


In The Cards

by LaufeyOfThay



Series: Cards Trilogy [1]
Category: Baldur's Gate
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:46:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 71
Words: 481,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24586333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaufeyOfThay/pseuds/LaufeyOfThay
Summary: This is the first part of my Bhaalspawn Trilogy, featuring Zaerini the redheaded half-elf bard and her blossoming romance with a certain snarky Red Wizard. It originally started with me wanting to build upon the storyline I created while writing the Edwin Romance mod, and then grew and branched into something far more elaborate. It is connected to my Thayvian Tales stories, and though you can absolutely read it independently of them they will elaborate on Edwin's backstory in such a way as to make it easier to understand some parts of the plot and some references in Cards. The story is finished through BG1 and BG2 and mostly through ToB and I am currently in the process of reposting it. Eventually it will all be available here. You will meet almost all of the npc cast, though obviously some of them are more important to the story than others.
Relationships: Female Charname/Edwin Odesseiron
Series: Cards Trilogy [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1777177
Comments: 66
Kudos: 21





	1. The Cards Are Dealt

**Chapter One - The Cards Are Dealt**

_The Chaltar deck of cards is used for sleight of hand, the conning of the trusting and the gullible. It is used for gambling, and the exchange of coins based on skill or luck. But occasionally, and in the hands of the right person, it may be used for something else entirely._

_Excerpt from 'Ruminations Of A Master Bard'_

"Oh, come on Rini! You know you want to, you really do! Pleeease!" Imoen scrunched her face up into her best appealing smile and directed the full force of it at her best friend and almost-sister. "And you're so **good** at it too", she shamelessly went on. "You predicted that Dreppin would trip and fall into the mud puddle, didn't you?"

"That", Zaerini said dryly, "was because Dreppin **always** trips over his own feet whenever you're around. Really Immy, a blind mole could have predicted that."

"What about the fact that you predicted Sarra would run off with that young guard of hers? **That** was genuine, wasn't it?"

"Ha! They'd been seeing each other on the sly for months, and she had started throwing up every morning. Either she'd run off or face her mother's wrath for getting pregnant. It was obvious." Zaerini pushed her bright red hair out of her eyes and nonchalantly shuffled the deck of cards using only one hand. She then gave her sister a friendly wink, her half-elven features mischievous. "What I do with this deck isn't exactly magic, Immy", she explained. "I just watch people and use the deck to explain what I see. That's all."

"All the same", Imoen persisted, "I'd really like it if you did a reading. Come on! It'll be fun."

"Oh, all right", Zaerini said. "Have it your way. I'll even do it for free, how's that for being generous?" The two girls were holed up in Zaerini's room, a small chamber in one of the highest turrets of the library fortress known as Candlekeep. Apart from the small bed and the table and two chairs, most of the space was occupied by a large bookshelf, overflowing with books and various oddments. A violin case rested in a prominent position on a shelf all of its own and there was sheet-music all over the bed. 

"Go ahead", Zaerini said, holding out the deck of cards with the backs toward Imoen. "Pick three."

The human girl eagerly reached out for the cards, her blue eyes alight with excitement. "Oh, this is great!" she said. "Make it a tall, dark and handsome stranger and a long journey would you, Rini?"

Zaerini rolled her eyes. "Just show me the cards", she said. She then studied the three cards intently, leaning her chin on her hands. "Hmmm", she said. "The Knight of Swords. The Archmage. And Death."

"Not very cheerful is it?" Imoen asked, biting her lower lip nervously.

"Oh, you mean Death?" Zaerini said. "I wouldn't worry about it. Generally, it just means transformation of some kind."

"Ah. So, what you're saying is that a tall, dark and mysterious stranger will turn my life around and take me into a new world of magic and mystery, rather than sweeping floors for Puffguts down at the inn?"

"Exactly!" Zaerini said, grinning. "See? It's so easy you can do this yourself!"

"Oh, very funny, sis. Now do one for yourself. A full prediction, with all the bells and whistles."

Still grinning, the half-elf shuffled the cards again and spread them out in a flower-like pattern in front of her. "Oh, spirits of the great beyond!" she moaned in a deep and solemn voice. "Hark and listen to my plea! Grant me your wisdom from beyond the dark veil!" Her lips twitched as she saw Imoen fight to suppress a giggle. "Grant me knowledge of my past, my present and above all my future", Zaerini continued. Her golden eyes sparkled wickedly. "And grant me knowledge of my True Love, while you're at it", she added. Imoen promptly lost her fight against the giggles, collapsing in a quivering heap onto the table where both girls were sitting. "Let him be handsome!" she pleaded. "Let him be wise, brave, intelligent, witty, charming, gallant and preferably rich. Oh, and handsome. Tall, dark and handsome. Did I mention handsome?"

Imoen was bright red by now and had tears streaming down her face. "Stop it!" she wheezed. "I - I can't take it, Rini!"

Zaerini shook her head in mock despair. "Children these days", she sighed. "No stamina at all." She then examined the cards, turning her full attention to the pattern in front of her. It was a strange one and her smile faded as she watched it. 

In the center was The Bard, an obvious representation of herself. But behind her was a weird combination of cards. The Archmage and Death, in conjunction. Then the Harp. It could mean music, but she wasn't sure. Death in her past, well no mystery there. She was an orphan after all, her mother lost as she was born, her father a great unknown. And the Archmage could be none other than her foster father, the old mage Gorion. 

Then the present. Again, the Death card, and the Archmage. And crossing them both lay the Knight of Swords, a dark and armor-plated figure with its head concealed by the visor of its helmet. Then the Harp again, and the Wanderer. Hints of a journey, perhaps?

In the near future, the Wizard of Coin, his face almost entirely hidden by the deep cowl of his robe as he raised his hands to cast a spell. Behind that card and almost hidden by it lay the Rogue, a shadowy figure cloaked by darkness. She had no idea what that was supposed to mean, since both tended to be solitary cards.

And at last the Death card again, overshadowing the entire reading, the grinning skull staring at her in what almost seemed to be mockery.

"Rini?" Imoen asked, her voice hesitant. "Are…are there supposed to be that many Deaths in the Deck?"

The half-elf shook her head, her hands trembling as she stared at the cards. "No", she murmured. "There should be only one. I…I don't know how…" Her voice faltered as she saw the images in the cards begin to move in front of her wide eyes, staring back at her. The Archmage watched her sadly, tears streaming down his ancient face as the Harp played a mournful tune. The Wizard of Coin gave her a sidelong glance from under his cowl, beckoning her forward impatiently as magic sparked in the air around him. Behind him the Rogue watched silently, an almost invisible presence among the shadows that surrounded him. And the Knight of Swords reared up towards her, a tower of rage and destruction with a sword almost as tall as she was. It arced towards her, a glittering lightning out of the darkness, and she shied back in fear. And as she saw the Knight approach, the skull visage of Death kept grinning without lips and laughing silently at her plight.

"Rini? RINI!" The half-elf gave a sudden jerk and was surprised to find herself being violently shaken by her best friend. Imoen was almost in tears by now, her normally cheerful face white with worry.

"I…I'm fine, Immy", Zaerini said, surprised at how shaky her normally smooth voice sounded. "I…I just felt a little dizzy for a moment I suppose."

"You were staring into empty space and muttering to yourself", Imoen said, her voice trembling. "I thought you were sick or something."

"I don't think so", Zaerini said, her face thoughtful. "I feel just fine now." She shrugged her shoulders. "It was probably nothing", she said. "But if you see any really big armored guys with huge swords hanging around, be sure to warn me to stay out of their way, OK? I only have so many spare pairs of clean underwear."

Imoen made a face. "Eeewww!" she exclaimed. "That is just so **icky**!" A sudden knock on the door interrupted whatever she was about to say next. Zaerini winked at her friend and went to open the door, pleased with how she had diverted Imoen's distress. She gave the servant standing outside the door her best smile, causing the man to blink and stutter.

"Ah…Miss?" he said. "Your Father wishes to see you at once, in the courtyard. H-he sent me to tell you that it's ur-urgent."

_And now Father probably wants to set me up with some really boring chore_ , Zaerini thought, rather ruefully. _Or quiz me on my latest study subjects or something. Oh, well. I've had enough excitement for today, anyway._

She nodded in acknowledgement to the servant, said 'Catch you later, Immy' and bounded down the stairs towards the sunny courtyard of Candlekeep, secure in her anticipation of the comfortably dull and familiar day that no doubt lay ahead of her. She was, of course, completely and utterly wrong.

-*-

"Five gold", Zaerini muttered to herself. "Gee, whatever am I to **do** with my suddenly increased wealth?" She slipped the coins into her money pouch, still shaking her flame-red head. "Rats", she said. "I'm a rat-killer. A slayer of dangerous killer rats. An erraticator. Scourge of rodents everywhere." It still didn't sound very impressive, but at least it was a start. _Maybe if I changed them to giant rats the size of horses it might make a better story,_ Zaerini thought. _Preferably fire-breathing too._

The young half-elf was getting a little impatient, and as always, her mood suffered from it. The fact that she had no idea what her foster father was planning didn't help. Gorion had told her little enough, simply that there was some kind of danger coming, and that they had to leave as soon as she had equipped herself with whatever weapons and armor she wished to purchase at Winthrop's Inn. Leave! Leave the great fortress library of Candlekeep, the only home she could remember having. The thought should have been an immensely frightening one. It still was, in a way, but the excitement at getting to see a bit more of the world overshadowed all.

_I am supposed to become a bard, after all,_ Zaerini thought. _And bards need to go out into the world, to experience things. Not just sit around a library reading about them, even if I do like books. I want to be able to tell my own stories._

She had bought herself a bow and arrows, as well as a plain but well-crafted sword. Briefly she had considered the suits of leather armor hanging off a rack at the back of the inn, then decided against it. She wanted freedom of movement. And there was also the fact of her magic. Gorion had started teaching her a few minor cantrips lately. Not much, but they might still be useful if she had no armor to hinder her. She hadn't spent all that much money, but she figured that earning a little extra couldn't harm. Gorion had told her that they wouldn't leave until evening anyway. Something about wanting to travel under the cover of darkness, a comment that **really** had Zaerini worried. She'd never known her foster father to be that apprehensive of anything, and the fact that he wouldn't tell her what was going on didn't help.

She had almost enjoyed throwing herself into the mundane and everyday tasks of running errands. Fetching mislaid scrolls and books, running around the keep after potion bottles, crossbow bolts and rusty old swords, and all for the benefit of people who were well equipped in the leg department and certainly capable of keeping track of their own belongings. Except perhaps for poor old Phlydia, an elderly mage who had somehow managed to forget one of her books in a haystack. Still, Rini hadn't really minded the errands all that much today. They gave her something to occupy her mind with, and tomorrow she would be gone anyway. The old dwarf Reevor's mission of clearing a storage room of rats had struck her as singularly ridiculous, since the cats were already on the job. _And I bet nobody ever used a longsword to kill rats before,_ Zaerini thought. _Poor little things. And five gold pieces! Reevor is so cheap. I should have thought to get paid in advance; I suppose. I'm sure Reevor wouldn't dare treat a **professional** hired killer like that. _

The girl sighed, squinting at the sun with eyes the color of golden amber. Evening was approaching, but the courtyard of Candlekeep was still unpleasantly hot and dusty. The faint voices of the chanting monks reciting their prophecies drifted towards her from the Keep gardens, as usual so intermingled that she was hard pressed to recognize any individual words. She could hear Alaundo mentioned, but that was hardly a surprise seeing that the man had been the founder of Candlekeep. For some reason, the chanting bothered her today, the inaudible words buzzing around her head like gnats. She needed to get away, just for a minute. To get inside, somewhere cool and quiet and get a moment's peace before returning to her father. The priest quarters were close by, she saw. That should be perfect. Relieved, she pulled the creaking old door open and went inside. 

The small house was dark and sparsely furnished, low of roof. There were a few beds and chairs, a table and not much more. That is, except for the man rifling through the contents of a dresser. Zaerini didn't recognize him, but she was willing to bet her hard-earned five goldpieces that whoever he was he wasn't a priest. Priests usually didn't smell that strongly of sweat, both horse and human. All in all, the horse smell was much preferable to the human one. Priests also usually didn't wear clothes stained with wine and other, more unsavory things, and they certainly didn't wear edged weapons like the dagger she spotted hanging from the man's belt.

"Oh, goodie goodie!", the man exclaimed, actually rubbing his hands. "I've gone and found ye first! You are the ward of Gorion, no doubt?" 

"I do not recognize you", Zaerini said, her voice polite but tinged with suspicion. "Who are you and what are you doing here?" She gave the money pouch the man was holding a pointed look. "Little bit of burglary?" she asked. "No wait don't tell me. You slipped and fell, and your hand just happened to wind up inside somebody else's drawer."

The man gave her a nasty grin, showing off a set of black and rotting teeth and a breath that could have stunned a black dragon. "Who I am is unimportant", he sneered, "but who YOU are is very much so. I apologize for this dirty bit of business, but I must seek your death. A pity, I know, but it would seem your head is worth an exceptional amount to me. I kill you myself and I need not share credit with anyone." 

He drew his dagger and advanced on the half-elf, waving the weapon about in a theatrical way that even Zaerini, with her limited experience of actual combat, could tell was vastly inefficient. However, that didn't mean that she wanted to take any chances, since this madman was clearly out to kill her. She backed towards the door and had almost reached it when it was pulled forcibly open and a second man entered. He was a little bulkier than the first one, with a slightly more intelligent look in his eyes, but Zaerini still didn't expect him to start spouting philosophy or solving complex equations any time soon.

"You! Shank!" the second man cried out in a hoarse voice. "What do ya think you're doing? That's Gorion's little whelp, that is, unless I'm very much mistaken. Or am I?" He turned to Zaerini as he asked this. She hesitated a second or two before answering. This fellow didn't look any more trustworthy than the other one, but she might just be lucky. He **could** be a wandering knight in disguise or something. It would have to be a **very** good disguise, of course.

"I am his child, if that is what you mean", she said, keeping her voice steady. _I **am** Gorion's child,_ she thought. _In all the ways that matter. I don't care if old Ulraunt calls me a baseborn half-breed orphan._

The new arrival shook his head. "Foster child", he said. "Gotta keep it straight. He raised you as his own, but you are not of his blood. Your head ain't worth nothing if you're actually his child. Nah, I know you're the right one. My ticket out of the gutter, soon as I snuff your lights."

_So much for the wandering knight theory_ , Zaerini thought. She struggled to draw her new sword, still awkward with it. Unfortunately, it wouldn't come out of its sheath. She could feel the sweat trickling down her back and her hair was falling into her eyes. She was going to die. She just knew it. Die alone, killed by a couple of morons who probably didn't know which boot to put on which foot without carefully written instructions. Outside she could hear the voices of the Chanters, suddenly far too loud. She shouldn't have been able to pick up on the words, but suddenly they echoed through her mind, cold and clear like falling chips of ice.

_The Lord of Murder shall perish…_

Zaerini felt the logs of the wall against her back. Nowhere to turn. No way to run.

_But in his doom he shall spawn a score of mortal progeny…_

She was feeling hot, as if she had fire running through her veins rather than blood. Imoen sometimes jested about the flamboyant color of her hair, calling her Firehead. Imoen… She would probably never see her friend again.

_Chaos will be sown from their passage…_

She would never see Gorion again either. She was no brawny fighter to charge gleefully into battle. How could she possibly hope to take on two grown men, even if they **did** look like the offspring of a village idiot and a rabid gibberling.

_So sayeth the wise Alaundo!_

And that was it. The plan sprang into life inside her head, fully formed and functional, her mouth speaking the necessary words before she had time to think about it. "Well, I guess this is it", she said, not needing to fake the tremor in her voice. "I suppose I'm done for. Good luck splitting the blood money, you bastards." 

The two would-be assassins froze, now regarding each other with narrowed eyes. "Splitting?" Shank said. "I'm not splitting with nobody!"

"Oh yeah?" the other man growled. "We'll just see about that! Nobody cheats Carbos and gets away with it!" Their prey now forgotten the two of them turned on each other, parrying and feinting with drawn daggers, now and then drawing blood. Shank grunted loudly as he lost the tip of his nose to a wild swing, Carbos was limping, his left leg bleeding profusely. And then his eyes rolled up into his head and he crumpled to the floor, dark blood trickling out of his nose and ears as a chair broke on his head. He gave a muted, gurgling sound, his breathing became wet and muffled. Then it stopped entirely. Shank stared at his rival in mute shock. He barely had time to turn around before a sword slipped into his guts, twisting and tearing. Before he died the would-be assassin just had time to see the girl he had come to kill stand over him. Her eyes burned hot and golden in her pale face; her mouth was twisted into a silent snarl. She didn't seem to notice the blood that had spattered onto her face and hands, her movements were graceful as she lifted the sword again and again. And as he died, for the first time in his mean and selfish life, Shank felt something akin to worship.

-*-  
There was a coppery smell to the air, hot and tingling. Zaerini felt she ought to recognize it, but something was wrong with her head. Her pulse was pounding through it like some giant drum and everything was blurry. 

_Must be coming down with the flu,_ she thought groggily. _Should be in bed._ Then she realized that her arms were aching horribly, as if she had been chopping wood for an hour. What was going on? Trying to gather her thoughts she took a step back and felt something metallic drop from her numb fingers and hit the floor with a clatter. She reached up to touch her aching temples and was surprised at feeling how wet and sticky her fingers were. Squinting she tried to take a closer look at them, but her vision was still not clear. Still in a daze, the half-elf was starting to feel very much afraid. Something was wrong, terribly wrong, and she had no memory of what had happened to her. There was something lying on the floor too, and for some reason the thought of looking at it made her want to scream. Her breath now quick and superficial the girl took another step backwards, tripped over something soft and fell heavily to the floor, hitting her head in the process. Zaerini groaned and opened her eyes. And as she did so she found herself staring into another pair of eyes, empty and already starting to milk over. There was a corpse right next to her, and she was close enough to kiss it.

"AAAGGHH!" Zaerini screamed, scrambling to her feet. The corpse was still there. Not just a nightmare, but really there. As her eyes darted wildly around the room, she spotted the other one and felt the bile rise in her throat. This second corpse was lying a little ways off, looking like it had been mauled by some huge cat. There was blood everywhere, and Zaerini knew just what the wet stickiness on her face and hands had to be. As she stared at the body in mute horror, she heard a low buzzing noise and saw the flies already starting to land on the dead man. Then she bent over and watched the remains of her lunch land on the floor. 

Shaking with nausea Zaerini started to remember what had happened. The two would-be assassins, Carbos and Shank, who had cornered her here, intending to kill her for some strange and unfathomable reason. She had tricked them into fighting each other. And then there were only strange, distorted images in her memory. Heat rushing through her body, a fierce joy filling her heart as she felt hot blood hit her face. Had she licked it off her lips as well? The taste wouldn't go away. Tears were streaming down her face now, trying to wash the blood away, failing. 

_I killed them,_ Zaerini thought. _I had to. But…did it have to be like that? Like I was losing my mind? Gods, I was actually **laughing** as I hacked that man to pieces, wasn't I? Like some cheap villain out of a story. What kind of a monster am I?_

Zaerini furiously tried to wipe her face and hands on the tablecloth. She had to get out of here, but she didn't want to walk about the Keep looking like some sort of ravening fiend. She had to see Gorion. He would know what to do. He always did. 

Imoen was wandering about the Candlekeep gardens, feeling very pleased with herself and her latest accomplishment. While she frequently bragged to Rini about her stealthy and silent ways she still got caught out with her pranks as often as not. Not this time though. Gorion had no idea that she'd managed to sneak a peek at that mysterious old letter of his, a letter that she couldn't wait to tell her friend about. If she ever turned up that was. Imoen scowled a little. Now where had Rini got to? She'd been looking for her **everywhere.** Shrugging a little Imoen decided that staying put would probably be her best course of action. She was right outside the Keep entrance, sooner or later Rini **had** to walk by. Satisfied with this Imoen decided to practice standing on her hands while singing, determined to beat her best friend at this game of dexterity. Not an easy feat, seeing that they were both agile girls, but she sure was going to try. She soon got so obsessed with her practice that she forgot all about what else she was supposed to be doing.

"A Wizard whizzes whimsically", Imoen sang at the top of her lungs, "as wise as he can be. And anyone who wants a whizz must serve him cake for three!"

"For tea", said a weary voice behind her back. "It's for **tea** , Immy." Imoen yelped and lost her balance, landing in a heap on the ground. 

"Rini!" she cried out. "Don't scare me like that!" Then her eyes widened as she took in her friend's disheveled appearance. Zaerini's wavy red hair was always wild and unmanageable, and she wore it at just above shoulder-length simply to spare herself the trouble of trying to keep it under control. But right now, it was also streaked with a darker red here and there, red turning slowly black as it dried. The same substance dotted her cheeks as well, where she hadn't quite managed to wipe it all off. No doubt her clothes were in equally bad shape, but it was a bit difficult to tell due to Rini's fondness for dark colors. But the worst thing was the eyes. Imoen had always secretly been just a little bit jealous of her friend's cat-like amber colored eyes, comparing them with her own more ordinary dark blue and finding herself lacking. They were usually bright and clear, sparkling with humor and mischief. But right now, they were haunted, as if Rini had seen something bad enough that she would never be able to forget it.

"What happened to **you**?!" Imoen said, getting to her feet. "You look like somebody dragged you backwards through a bramble hedge."

"Oh, nothing", Zarini said, her lips twisting into something that was obviously meant to be an encouraging smile. It came out as more of a grimace. "One of…one of the cats didn't like me petting it, that's all."

Imoen's eyebrows lifted almost into her reddish-brown hair as she looked at her friend. "Must have been some mean cat", she said. "That your blood or the cat's? You're so lucky the stains won't show much on those clothes of yours."

Zaerini gave her a weak grin at that. The clothes in question were new, a tight black vest and pants, and they clung to her body in ways that had almost made Gorion throw a fit when he saw what she had bought. Imoen preferred hot pink herself, and had bought a similar outfit in that color, except with a hood and a slightly lower neckline. Gorion hadn't approved much of that either.

"Oh, fine", Zaerini said. "You'll find out soon enough anyway, I suppose." Her face turned grim. "Somebody tried to kill me", she said. "No, make that **two** somebodies. But I…I killed them instead." Again, that half smile, half grimace. "You're right by the way", she said. "Black is good for hiding blood stains. Probably the only reason why half of Candlekeep hasn't already demanded to know why I look like I just came from a battlefield."

Imoen was doing her best to take all this in. " **Kill** you?", she asked, hearing her voice rise to an almost scream. "Gods, Rini, are you hurt? What happened?" She gripped her friend by the shoulder, her eyes scanning for injuries. 

"I'm fine", Zaerini said. "Or as fine as possible under the circumstances." Her eyes darkened. "Much better than **they** are, at least. I hope I never have to do anything quite like that again in my entire life." She seemed to make up her mind about something, her face taking on that determined look that Imoen knew so well. "I should go", Zaerini said. "Gorion will be waiting for me."

That made Imoen suddenly remember the reason why she had been waiting for her friend in the first place. "Rini?" she asked. "What did Gorion want? I mean earlier when he sent for you?"

The half-elf looked thoughtful at this. Then she smiled slightly. "Don't really have much to tell you 'little one' ", she said. "My foster father just told me to prepare for a journey, but he would not say where."

Imoen huffed. "Little one?" she said. "I'm bigger than **you** are, ya know. Even if you **are** a little older. I could take you with one hand tied behind my back."

"You **may** be bigger", Zaerini smirked, and now the glint in her eyes was back as she descended into familiar friendly rivalry. "But **I'm** faster and cleverer. Not to mention two years older."

"Yeah? But you're part elf, and elves age more slowly than humans. So, you're **really** just a baby compared to me. So there!"

"All right!" Zaerini said, chuckling a little. "You made your point. I'll ask if you can go with us."

"Oh, don't be silly!" Imoen said, shaking her head for emphasis. "Gorion would never even let you finish the sentence. Especially after what that letter of his said…" 

"Letter?" Zaerini gave her friend an intent look. "What letter?"

"I…I only had time for a quick look", Imoen explained. "I was afraid Gorion would come back and see me. It was a letter for him, from somebody called 'E'. Don't remember all of it, but it warned Gorion to leave Candlekeep as soon as possible."

"I see", Zaerini said. "Much the same as what he told me. Not that it says very much. I suppose I had better go see Gorion now. The sun is about to set. He'll be waiting for me."

"I…I suppose so", Imoen said. Suddenly she looked at her best friend as if she had never seen her before. It came to her that perhaps she would never see her **again.** Impulsively she reached out and gave the half-elf a big hug. After the initial moment of surprise, the hug was returned. 

"Just…just take care of yourself, Rini", Imoen said. "Be careful, OK?"

The half-elf smiled, her golden eyes lighting up as she did so. "I promise, Immy", she said. "I'll be home soon, I'm sure. And think how many wonderful stories I'll bring back with me! We'll have to stay up all night for me to tell them all." Then her voice turned more serious. "Don't you worry about me", she said. "I'll be with Gorion, remember? Gorion can handle **anything.** I'll be just fine." She turned to walk away, waving over her shoulder as she did so.

Imoen stood watching after her friend for a minute, thinking. Then she made her decision.

-*-

Her feet were hurting a little, unused as they were to walk this long a distance through darkened woods. She was starting to get rather hungry as well. Briefly Zaerini studied the gray-cloaked back of her foster father in front of her and wondered whether he might be persuaded to rest soon. Probably not. Gorion had been keeping a hard pace ever since they had set out from Candlekeep some hours earlier, as if he intended to walk the entire way to Baldur's Gate without stopping once.

It was really late now, probably past midnight. The sky was mostly invisible behind the black canopy of the dense treetops, so Zaerini couldn't tell for sure, but it felt late. She had no idea where they were, not being much of a wilderness person she had long since lost all sense of direction in the darkness. Now and then there were sounds in the shadows. Twigs snapping. Rustling noises. Howls. Not the sort of sounds that made you feel relaxed and at ease. Zaerini had her bow ready as she walked. Not that she thought she'd be very likely to hit anything, even with the aid of the infra-vision that came from the elven part of her heritage. She was exhausted and thought it much more likely that she'd shoot herself in the foot. Still, holding the bow was comfort of a sort. Comfort that Gorion was far too preoccupied to offer at this particular moment. As she watched his broad back and silvery white hair in front of her Zaerini wondered what he was thinking about.

Gorion had listened to her earlier when she had blurted out her tale of the assassins that had come after her and exactly how she had dealt with them. He had held her, and comforted her, and told her that she'd been very brave. He'd also healed a superficial cut that she'd barely noticed herself. And that was all well and good, but there had been one thing missing. He had displayed no trace of surprise.

_Even if for some reason he expected assassins to hunt for me, Zaerini thought, surely he ought to have been a little surprised at my being able to kill them instead? And particularly in that fashion. It's not as if I violently slaughter people on a regular basis. Gorion seemed worried, but not surprised. No, not surprised. He is keeping something from me, I am sure of it._ She had been prepared to confront her foster father about the matter then and there, but Gorion had been in such a hurry to leave that she thought it better to wait. He had paused only to tell her that in case they ever got separated she should head for the Friendly Arm Inn, an old temple-turned-inn to the north, and seek out two of his old friends, Khalid and Jaheira. 

_Not that that's very likely to happen,_ Zaerini thought, trying to ignore her aching legs. _Gorion is far too experienced a traveler to misplace me._ While her father was now an old man, she knew that he had gone on extensive adventures in his youth, and so she felt perfectly safe, despite the sounds of the night. As for her many unanswered questions, they would have to wait until they stopped to rest. Plenty of time to question Gorion then.

And then, as if he had been reading her thoughts, the old mage spoke, his voice terse with worry. "Let's hurry child! The night can only get worse so we must find shelter soon. Don't worry, I will explain everything as soon as there is time." Suddenly he stiffened and paused. His lined face had gone very grim, and he reached for his pouches of spell components. "Wait!" he said, raising his hand. "There is something wrong. We are in an ambush. Prepare yourself!"

Out of the ebony black shadows beneath the tall trees four figures confidently strode, heading towards the old mage and his foster child. Zaerini felt an icy shiver run down her back. Her fingers felt stiff and numb as she struggled to draw her bow and her heart was pounding wildly like the hooves of a galloping horse.

_Those are ogres!_ Zaerini thought as she stared at two hulking shapes. _Actual ogres! And they're huge!_

The two creatures were indeed both taller and broader than even the most powerful warriors that had ever set foot within the walls of Candlekeep. Their small eyes glinted in the darkness as they lifted a heavy club and an equally monstrous hammer. Then there was a woman, a slim armored shape who mostly kept to the shadows so that it was hard to get a good look at her. To the half-elf's eyes she glowed faintly, her body-heat the only hint to her stealthy and graceful movements. And then there was the fourth one. Zaerini couldn't look away from the large man who moved towards her, with a proud and menacing gait that reminded her of a lion. He was easily as tall as the Ogres, and almost as broad across the shoulders, she could tell that much despite the armor that covered him head to toe. Armor that, Zaerini thought, looked just a little bit unconventional. 

_Never trust a strange man with huge spikes all over his armor,_ she thought wildly. _People who decorate themselves with large, pointy spikes are not out to create a friendly impression!_ She couldn't see much of the stranger's face, almost entirely hidden as it was by his horned helmet. Just the eyes. Eerie, golden eyes, that seemed to be glowing in the dark. Eyes with a color resembling her own. She tried to look away from them and found it impossible, feeling transfixed by them. They were cold those eyes, despite their fiery color. Cold and measuring, studying her carefully. And there was even a trace of…recognition? _And glowing eyes too,_ Zaerini thought, feeling as if she were about to giggle hysterically at any moment. _Spiky armor and glowing eyes. Not a good sign._

As if on cue, the armored man spoke, addressing Gorion. "You're perceptive for an old man", he said, his deep bass voice calm. "You know why I'm here. Hand over your ward and no one will be hurt. If you resist it shall be a waste of your life."

"You're a fool if you believe I would trust your benevolence", Gorion responded, drawing himself up to his full height. "Step aside and you and your lackeys will be unhurt." His voice was firm, his hands steady, and Zaerini suddenly felt immensely proud of her father. 

But when the large man spoke again, he sounded not the least disturbed. "I'm sorry that you feel that way old man", he said, his voice dripping with mock sincerity. 

A burning pain lanced Zaerini's shoulder even as she heard the chanted words of magic from the slender woman in the shadows. Her breath hissed from between her teeth as she clutched at the wound, doubled over with pain and nauseous from the smell of smoking flesh. Dimly she could hear Gorion's voice, raised in a shout. 

"Run child! Get out of here!"

'No' she wanted to say, 'no Father, don't make me go. Please Father, let me help you.' But the words wouldn't come, and she could only stare mutely at the giant with the golden eyes who moved towards her, raising an enormous two-handed sword, almost as tall as herself. _The Knight of Swords!_ Zaerini thought, very close to panic now. _The Knight of Swords from my foretelling. He's real!_

And then the armored figure snarled in sudden surprise as glowing balls of energy struck him with a flash and a hiss.

"I said RUN, child!" Gorion roared, now sounding nothing like the scholarly old mage Zaerini knew. "NOW!" She ran then, without thinking, without reflecting, instinctively obeying her father's voice. Her shoulder still hurt, but run she could, and run she did. As she ran, she could hear sounds rising out of the darkness behind her. Ogres growling in sudden pain. The musical rhythms and words of magic accompanied by sudden brief flashes of light. Sounds of huge feet moving about, of armor clanking. Sounds of combat.

When she had reached partial cover behind a large oak tree Zaerini turned around. She had to see what happened. She had to **know**. And so it was that she saw Gorion draw his small dagger, his final spell exhausted. A pitiful weapon it seemed against the formidable sword of his opponent. The large warrior nodded once in seeming recognition of the futile bravery of the gesture. Then he raised his sword one final time and drove it home. And Zaerini ran once more, ran until her legs would bear her no longer. Then she huddled hidden by some thick bushes, hugging her own legs to keep from screaming, silent tears streaming down her face until at last she fell into uneasy sleep.


	2. Wizard and Rogue

**In The Cards 2 - Wizard and Rogue**

_Wizard of Coin - This card represents magic, often of a mercenary nature, coupled with powerful ambition. It may also represent ambition itself, the urge to excel no matter what the cost, to self or others. Under certain rare circumstances it may also mean unwavering loyalty, a reminder to the interpreter to be careful in his or her foretelling._

__

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_The Rogue - Apart from its natural function of representing thieves, murderers and scoundrels of all kinds, this card also means darkness, cunning, subtlety, schemes and secrets. Usually a solitary card, when coupled with another the connection will be extremely strong_.

_Excerpt from The Chaltar Deck of Cards - An Introduction_

To the north, in the woods near the monastery of Candlekeep where scholar monks peacefully went about their business collecting rare books, a half-elven girl was crying silently. In her mind's eye she saw her foster father cut down before her eyes again and again by an armored figure that seemed inhuman in its determination. This was going to be one of the longest nights of her life.

Further to the south, in the border town of Nashkel across the Amnian border, the innkeeper Turl Odipas was having a very long night of his own. It had started earlier that evening, with the arrival of the first two strangers. The elegant dark-skinned woman in her rich purple robes and with the quietly commanding voice had seemed the ideal customer at first. Quiet, orderly, probably wealthy. Her companion, a huge man with a hideous purple tattoo across his face was another matter. Obviously, a powerful warrior, Turl had thought. Possibly a troublemaker. He had made sure to provide the pair with his best room lest the giant find reason to forcibly complain. What he hadn't been prepared for was the warrior walking up to him, less than two hours later, shoving a small furry hamster into his face and then demanding a different room because 'Boo thinks this one is too dark and gloomy, and pretty Dynaheir agrees.' Turl didn't know whether 'pretty Dynaheir' was a reference to the woman or the hamster that glared so ferociously at him, and he wasn't sure he wanted to know.

So, he had gone to see the lady and been shocked to find her calmly reading a spellbook by a floating globe of magic light. A mage! The innkeeper shuddered at the thought. He should have stayed in Athkatla. The Cowled Wizards there made sure no decent man needed harbor…that kind of people beneath his roof very often. But here, so near the northern border… There were plenty of strange folk coming through these days. Had he dared to, he would have asked the woman to leave, but the warrior's bulging muscles and large sword made him decide against that. He had simply offered her a different room. She had declined politely, saying that she had decided that she and her companion would go and stay with somebody else instead.

When he pointed out that his was the only inn in Nashkel the woman just smiled. After the strange pair left, little Karul, the errand boy, had reported seeing them admitted inside the Mayor's Manor House. Not just a mage then, but one with connections. He had thought himself lucky to be rid of her, unaware that his troubles were just about to start.

By now the dark blue-black clouds that had been gathering all evening had drawn together into a formidable thunderstorm. Jagged lightning flashed across the sky, followed by near deafening rolls of thunder, and the wind was howling like a pack of rabid Dire Wolves. Most of the Inn's guests had retired to their rooms, but some remained in the Common Room, drinking. There was a certain lack of rowdiness though, probably because of the weather. When the door crashed open with a loud bang Turl was startled out of his reverie. Thinking that the door had been blown open by the wind he moved to close it, then froze in mid motion at the sight of the two new arrivals.

_Not another bloody wizard! What did I do to deserve this?_ The innkeeper felt something akin to despair. That one of the two new strangers were a wizard was obvious, even to a man with as little acquaintance with magic as Turl Odipas. This fellow didn't even have the common decency to try to keep his…condition…secret. Dressed in mage robes the color of fresh blood, with bags of spell components hanging from his belt, he rather seemed to want to advertise the fact. He pulled the cowl of his robe back and walked up to the counter where the innkeeper was standing. Turl was surprised to see that the man was rather younger than one would have guessed from the arrogant way he carried himself. He couldn't be older than in his mid-twenties, but he gave the inn and the other guests a cold sneer as haughty as any belonging on the face on an ancient Archmage. Dark eyes bored into Turl and the sneer increased a little as if the wizard weren’t particularly impressed with what he saw.

"You! Innkeeper!" the mage said. "My companion and I will rent your best room over an extended period of time. (And in this filthy hovel that probably means the room with less than three different species of bugs, but I suppose we have no alternative)" His voice was accented, and Turl couldn't place it. A traveler from far away, it seemed. The innkeeper wiped his face with his handkerchief. Nervous he might be but would try his best to avoid having another wizard under his roof. And he had a good excuse too.

"I…I am sorry, good sir", he said. "But all the rooms are already taken. I cannot help you." Then he cringed as the wizard took a step closer.

"You dare contradict me?" the mage spat, hands drifting closer to his spell components. "We have come a long way tonight; we need our rest and we will have it. Comply, or I'll see you sizzle like bacon over an open fire!" Another crash of thunder accompanied these words, and Turl closed his eyes, fully expecting to die.

"Now, now", another voice said. This one was smooth and very calm, and with no trace of accent at all. It was almost as if the speaker had deliberately obliterated all such hints of his origin. "I am sure there will be no need for violence. We are all reasonable men, after all." 

Turl dared open his eyes at that and then immediately wished that he hadn't. So transfixed had he been by the sight of the mage that he had hardly paid any attention at all to his companion. This second man was older than the wizard, probably in his mid-forties, though the lupine grace with which he moved made it difficult to determine. Dressed all in black as he was, he made Turl think uncomfortable thoughts about wraiths and specters, particularly since he realized that he hadn't heard the sound of footsteps as the man approached. Beneath the black hood Terl couldn't see more than faint glimpses of a sharp-featured face with a long nose, mostly hidden by shadows. The fact that there were no obvious weapons to be seen did nothing to reassure the innkeeper. The travelers who felt no need to show their weapons were the ones you really had to worry about.

"As my young friend said, we will require your best room", the man said, as if patiently explaining something to an incredibly young and very dull-witted child. "You will make certain that this is arranged."

"But…"

"Because if you do not, then I suppose I shall have to help you in creating a vacancy. Surely it would be better if you handled such matters yourself?" There was the faintest hint of a smile. "I wouldn't want to intrude on another man's turf, after all."

Turl felt the sweat trickling down his back. There had been no obvious threat, and still there was no weapon in sight. And yet he had the feeling that he was a heartbeat away from death. "I…", he began. "I…"

"Yes?" Nothing but polite inquisitiveness in that voice, and yet Turl was reminded of the door of a tomb slamming shut. 

"I…I suddenly remembered that the room in question has recently been vacated", Turl said. "T-two guests who were in a hurry. Of course, you shall have it."

"Excellent. See what a pleasant place the world can be when we all try to help each other?"

As the two strangers followed Turl to the room the wizard spoke up again. "If you gossip about our presence here you will not live long enough to regret it"; he said. "Now bring us some dinner, and not the slop you serve your regular customers either. We prefer food that actually tastes of something, and by 'something' I don't mean lard. And don't make the mistake of confusing salt with spices. Salt should be used in moderation. Spices should not be neglected, unlike what you westerner barbarians seem to think."

The black-cloaked man nodded approvingly. "Just so", he said. "And tomorrow we will require your presence. We are in need of information, and as you are an innkeeper, I am certain there are all sorts of interesting things you will be able to share with us. I hope you like to share."

Turl shuddered. There was no way **anybody** could be having a worse night than he was. Hoping to change the topic of the conversation he pulled the door of his best room open with a flourish. "H-here we are", he said. "I hope it will be satisfactory. I dare say it is a little dark and gloomy." His hopes of making these guests as dissatisfied as the previous ones were cruelly dashed.

"It will do", the wizard curtly said. "As long as the maid keeps her nose out of it unless specifically invited. We do not want to be disturbed."

"Dark and gloomy will be just fine", the other man agreed. "And you had better warn the maid. My young friend is fond of…research. A disturbance could have unfortunate consequences. For all involved. As for me, I am a light sleeper, and likely to be very disagreeable if disturbed. We don't want any accidents, do we?"

"Oh dear", Turl said, feeling his legs tremble violently. "The…the maid. She hasn't cleaned this room yet. Those two others, the foreign lady wizard and her large bodyguard with the tattoo, they left so hurriedly…" He caught himself just in time to see the long look that passed between his two new guests. Outside the rain was beginning to fall, violently hammering against the roof.

"Other two?" the wizard asked, stroking his short beard. "Lady wizard? Now isn't that interesting? Sounds strangely familiar too."

"Yes", the tall man in black agreed, his voice suddenly very cold. "Extremely familiar." Turl felt a strong grip on his collar as he was forcibly dragged inside the darkness of the Nashkel Inn's best room. "I do believe", the black-cloaked man said, "that we will have that little conversation right now. Take your time in answering our questions. We have all night."

-*-

Somebody was coming towards her. Now and then there was a faint rustle in the bushes, the crack of a twig underfoot. Not often, but often enough. Zaerini readied her bow and waited. Her shoulder still hurt atrociously, but she thought she could manage for a while. Maybe Gorion's murderer was coming for her, but she didn't intend to go down without a fight. Not that she thought she had any hope of actually winning one, she wasn't that delusional. No, she was still hiding in the bushes and planned to remain hidden if possible. But just in case it was the …Knight Of Swords…armored man heading for her hiding place she wanted to be prepared to defend herself if necessary. Sure, she probably wouldn't so much as dent that spiky armor with her arrow before he slaughtered her, but it was better than nothing.

And then there was a flash of pink between the trees and a girl's bright voice. "Rini? Rini, are you there?" Zaerini almost dropped her bow. _Imoen?!_ And so it was. The half-elf emerged from cover to see her best friend smile rather nervously at her, a bow of her own slung across her shoulder.

"Heya…", the human girl said, fidgeting with the small potion bag that hung at her belt. "Er…it's me. Imoen."

Zaerini tried to keep from gaping. She failed. "Immy, what are you doing here?" she asked. "How did you find me?"

For once Imoen neither smiled nor winked. "I…well, you know I read that letter Gorion got", she said. Her dark blue eyes were very serious. "So…I was worried 'bout you. Really worried. So, I…er…borrowed some stuff at the Keep and followed you both."

"You…you mean you were out there? Last night?" _Please don't let her have seen Gorion die_ , Zaerini thought. _Bad enough that I had to_.

Imoen bit her lower lip. "I…was tracking you", she explained. "I lost the tracks for a while, and then this morning I found…Gorion." Suddenly there were tears in her eyes, and the next second Zaerini found herself being tightly hugged. It took her a moment or two to respond, and then she awkwardly patted Imoen's back as the younger girl cried into her shoulder.

"Oh Rini!" Imoen sobbed. "I'm so sorry for you! I mean, sure I'll miss him too, but you two were always so close. And…and at first I thought you were dead as well! I almost couldn't find your tracks; it was sheer luck that I did. Rini, you're all I've got. Well, except for Puffguts, but you know what I mean."

"Sssh…", Zaerini whispered, trying to calm the other girl. Despite everything else it felt good to resume her role as the elder sister, the one to make decisions and plans, the protective one. It gave her purpose. It made her feel stronger, more focused. She was needed. She would have to make sure Imoen was all right. "I'll live", she said. "We'll both live. We've still got each other, right? Best friends, remember?"

"Yes", Imoen agreed, the light coming back into her eyes. "Best friends."

"Can you find the way back to…to Gorion?" Zaerini asked. "I need to see that letter in case he still has it. It's the only clue I have to what's going on. And I…want to say goodbye."

"Sure. I can do that."

Zaerini sighed with relief. "Good", she said. "On the way I'll tell you all about what happened last night."

"Whatever you say, sis", Imoen said, crossing her arms across her chest. "But we're going nowhere 'til you take one of my healing potions for that shoulder of yours. I felt you flinch just now when I hugged you."

She opened her pack and started digging around inside. Zaerini was surprised to see more than one healing potion, another that she recognized for a potion of Magical Speed and some sort of magic wand. "Immy?" she asked. "Where did you get all this stuff?"

"Oh, here and there", Imoen said airily, tossing her hair across her shoulder. "From the monks at the Keep."

"Uh-.huh", Zaerini said, grinning. "And I suppose they just up and gave them to you?" 

For a moment Imoen affected a wounded 'Who? Me?' look, and then she grinned as well. "Weeelll", she said. "I'm pretty sure they would have, had I taken the time to explain things. But I was in a bit of a hurry. I didn't want to bother them. They have so many important things to do, like cataloguing books…and…and stuff." She waved her treasured set of lockpicks about triumphantly. "Besides, I needed the practise." And despite everything that had happened during the past day Zaerini couldn't help but laugh.

As the two girls reached the clearing of the previous night's battle there was no more laughter however. Gorion still lay where he had fallen, looking so much smaller in death than he had in life. The massive corpses of two dead ogres flanked his still form like some horrible mockery of an honor guard. Merciless sunlight trickled down between the tree branches, making the scene all the more vivid. Zaerini felt her eyes moving back and forth between her foster father's pale face and the dark spots where blood had saturated the ground. Briefly she wondered whether the smell would draw predators. Probably so. There was nothing she could do about it. She had no spade, and no time to dig a grave. The murderer could still be close by, waiting for her to come back. But there was one thing she had to do. Slowly, as if in a dream, she moved towards her foster father's corpse and knelt by his side. She closed his eyes, then touched her fingertips lightly to her lips and held them to his brow in farewell. The gray robes were still moist beneath her questing fingers as she touched them, but she forced her mind to remain cool, detached. She had to. And there was the letter now, smudged but still legible.

_My friend Gorion,_

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_Please forgive the abruptness with which I now write, but time is short and there is much to be done. What we have long feared may soon come to pass, though not in the manner foretold, and certainly not in the proper time frame. As we both know, forecasting these events has proved increasingly difficult, leaving little option other than a leap of faith. We have done what we can for those in thy care, but the time nears when we must step back and let matters take what course they will. We have, perhaps, been a touch too sheltering to this point_. 

_Despite my desire to remain neutral in this matter, I could not, in good conscience, let events proceed without some measure of warning. The other side will move very soon, and I urge thee to leave Candlekeep this very night, if possible. The darkness may seem equally threatening, but a moving target is much harder to hit, regardless of how sparse the cover. A fighting chance is all that can be asked for at this point_

_Should anything go awry, do not hesitate to seek aid from travelers along the way. I do not need to remind thee that it is a dangerous land, even without our current concerns, and a party is stronger than an individual in all respects. Should additional assistance be required, I understand that Jaheira and Khalid are currently at the Friendly Arm Inn. They know little of what has passed, but they are ever thy friends and will no doubt help however they can_.

_Luck be with us all.  
I'm getting too old for this_.

_E._

"E?" Imoen said thoughtfully, chewing on a stray strand of hair as she pondered this new riddle. "I wonder who that is."

"No idea", Zaerini said, pocketing the letter. "But whoever he is he clearly couldn't be bothered to help. 'Remain neutral' Hah! Some friend." She pulled a hand through her flame-red hair. "We should go now, I think", she said. "I don't know what any of this means, but Gorion also mentioned these friends of his. Khalid and Jaheira at the Friendly Arm Inn. It's a start at least."

"I guess", Imoen said. "We can't very well go home, can we? The monks probably wouldn't even let us in without a valuable book, now that Gorion is gone."

Zaerini nodded. "And somehow", she said, "I doubt that my journal would count as a 'tome of great value'. Not until I get a great deal more famous anyway. Besides, old Ulraunt has wanted to get rid of me forever. With Gorion gone… No. There is no way we could go back, and it wouldn't be safe anyway, at least not for me. He's still out there somewhere."

"He?"

"The one I told you about", the half-elf said, her amber eyes distant. "Gorion's murderer. The Knight of Swords from the foretelling I did back in Candlekeep." Her even features suddenly contorted into a mask of pure rage. "He killed my father, Immy", she said, her voice all the more frightening for being so calm. "He cut him down before my eyes and I could do nothing to stop him. I can't even bury Gorion properly, but I can make a promise. Whoever that man is, wherever he is, I will find him. And then, one day when I am powerful enough, I will kill him." Then she smiled briefly, and the cold light faded from her eyes. "I know that sounds terribly dramatic", she said. "I still mean it though.” Her grin widened and took on a feline quality. "Ah, the joy of anticipation", she said. "Let's head for the road. If we're lucky we may even reach the Friendly Arm Inn before nightfall."

-*-

"Hold Montaron, this young wayfarer is in need. Someone has set about thee, stranger, and you have barely escaped with your life." The man who had spoken looked like nobody Zaerini had ever seen before. The grotesque tattoos that covered his face were only part of it. He was wearing dark green mage robes, so his profession was no great mystery, but there was a glint to his eyes that made her think of a dog coming down with the foaming sickness.

Rini had met more than one mage before, even excluding Gorion. It was not unusual for wizards to travel to Candlekeep to pursue research in the great library there, and she had always enjoyed speaking to them. Wizards tended to know things that interested her, and they were usually quite fascinating to talk to. The ones that would tolerate a precocious half-elf girl badgering them, that was. She had learned early on to stay away from the less sociable mages after a particularly bad-tempered old Necromancer threatened to turn her into an ant and step on her. Retaliation had been sweet though. The next day he had woken up to find his bedclothes infested with red ants and fleas, and the itching had been bad enough to keep him from casting spells for several days. Still, Zaerini had learnt her lesson. Some wizards probably would have carried out their threat. This tattooed stranger among them.

Oh, the man sounded polite enough. Helpful, even. But something about the way he watched her made her feel dirty, as if his eyes were caressing her skin, and sometimes he twitched as if he’d spotted something nobody else could. The leer on the face of his companion, a scruffy looking halfling, did nothing to improve her mood.

"Aye Xzar, looks to have been roughed up quite well", the little man grinned, making Zaerini acutely aware of the way the leather of her vest had torn across her shoulder. "'Course, some girls like it rough."

The mage's rich, fruity voice deepened a little at that. "Indeed", he said. "I wonder what this one…likes. I can offer you healing potions, if you wish, as a token of good will."

"No, thank you", Zaerini said, making her voice as cold as possible. "My father always taught me not to accept gifts from strangers. We will manage on our own." Out of the corner of her eye she could see Imoen nod vigorously. "Besides", she added, "as you have guessed I was attacked last night. I suspect it will be a while yet before I confide in mysterious strangers who turn up out of nowhere to offer their services for free. I assume you **were** offering them for free?" She watched the two men carefully as she spoke. The halfling snorted with amusement, and the wizard looked a little taken aback. But neither of them had reacted in any visible way to her mention of the attack. Probably they weren't among the people hunting her then. Probably. 

"You do not trust us?" the wizard asked, his tattooed face twisted into a sorrowful grimace. "I feel hurt. So, so hurt. And here I was going to offer you a ride on my dragon. Oh, the gibbous moon was bright last night and there were unholy stenches in the air, I tell you. The shapes! The horrible, horrible shapes, geometry unfathomable by mortals!" His eyes suddenly rolled back into his head so that only the whites showed. "Yr'Liäää!" he screamed. "The Great Devourer is coming! We must all grow gills and carry a rubber ducky!"

Zaerini and Imoen took a hasty step back as the wizard started to spin around in a circle, arms outstretched and making buzzing noises.

"Oh, bloody marvelous", the halfling snarled and yanked at his companion's robes. "Now you've gone and set him off."

"What…what's wrong with him?" Imoen asked in a near whisper.

"Little bit too fond of demonology", the halfling answered, then stuck out a leg to trip the wizard up. The tattooed face struck the cracked stones of the road with a loud smacking sound that made both the Candlekeep girls wince. It seemed to help him recover, however. Once he got to his feet again his eyes were more lucid than before.

"I shall not hold thee to a debt of honor for slighting my...good intentions, though your conscience may", he said as he started to brush himself off. "Perhaps as payment you would go with us to Nashkel. It is a troubled area and we mean to investigate some disturbing rumors surrounding the local mine. Some acquaintances are very concerned about the iron shortage. Specifically, where to lay blame in the matter. You would be useful, though I'll not hold you to it. We are to meet the mayor of the town, a man named Berrun Ghastkill, I believe."

Zaerini looked at Imoen and saw her friend discreetly shake her head. The half-elf felt she had to agree. "I don't think so", she said, carefully keeping her voice neutral. "We have business elsewhere at this time." And then she felt fingers gripping her arm, stroking it gently.

"Such a pity", the wizard purred. "We could have been very…beneficial to each other, I am sure." Resisting the urge to punch him in the middle of his fat, leering mouth, the half-elf simply assisted the mage in the brushing off of road dust. She paid particular attention to the area around the waist and was disgusted to hear him sigh with pleasure. But she wanted to avoid an unnecessary fight with what seemed like two thoroughbred pieces of filth if she could possibly avoid it. She had a better idea. 

"Perhaps another time", she said, her voice frosty. She walked off down the road, feeling the burning looks of the two strangers against her back until she was well out of sight. Then she stopped to vigorously rub her hands in the dirt along the road, trying to feel clean again.

"Rini, what were you doing?" Imoen asked. "How could you…touch that man?"

"Because", the half-elf said, "firstly we are tired and inexperienced. Had we fought them they might have killed us. Or worse. I'd do plenty worse to keep that from happening to either of us. Secondly, had we gone along with them they might have got it into their heads to make certain other demands than just going to Nashkel. Though that mine thing did sound interesting. We might want to check that out later." She grinned, a wicked light filling her golden eyes. "And thirdly", she smirked, displaying several folded spell scrolls with a deft flourish of her hand, "I thought it rather fun and profitable to pick that creep's pockets. Gorion always promised to teach me magic. I think I'm about to make a few efforts on my own. I could still use a real wizard to help though."

"Just not that one", Imoen said with a shudder.

"No", Zaerini agreed. "Definitely not that one. But we have some way to go yet before we reach the Friendly Arm Inn. Who knows what we may come across."

An hour later the two girls were still walking along the road heading east. Judging from the map she carried Zaerini thought that they must be very close to the crossroads where they were supposed to turn north. Then they wouldn't have very far to go.

"Not that far now, Immy", she said. "And no more insane wizards, thank goodness for that."

"I wouldn't be so sure of that", Imoen said, pointing at a figure approaching in the distance. "Look." 

The person coming towards them certainly looked like a wizard. No man would wear ankle length red robes unless he had magic to back him up against all possible mockers. The fellow was old, with a white beard that almost reached his waist, and his face didn't look insane. There were no tattoos either. But there was the fact that he was wearing a large and pointy hat, sort of like a red cone with a wide brim. 

"Yes, you may be right", Zaerini said, sighing. "Madman number two coming up." If the stranger heard her words, he made no sign of it. He simply raised his hand in greeting.

"Ho there wanderer", he said. "Stay thy course a moment to indulge an old man. It's been nigh unto a tenday since I've seen a soul walking this road, and I've been without decent conversation since. Traveling nowadays appears to be the domain of either the desperate or the deranged; If thou woulds't pardon my intrusion, might I inquire which pertains to thee?"

"Yep", Imoen said. "Number two."

Zaerini nodded. "Desperate or deranged?" she asked the wizard. "Neither desperate nor deranged enough to want to wear a hat like that, I can tell you that much."

"Thou wouldst question my fashion-sense?" the mage asked, eyes twinkling. For some reason that slightly smug and patronizing look on his face irritated Zaerini immensely.

"Why not?" she asked. "You question my sanity. And one more thing. You might get more in the way of 'decent conversation' if you show the courtesy of introducing yourself before you start interrogating people."

The mage chuckled, white beard jumping a little. "Point taken", he said. "But true names can be most dangerous on the road, something thou wouldst do well to remember, young lady. I shall detain thee no longer then, as I see that thou art in something of a hurry. To the north is the Friendly Arm Inn, and friends thou mayest indeed find within its walls. Fare thee well." He walked off down the road, still chuckling.

"Was that annoying or what?" Zaerini asked.

"What?" Imoen said. "The 'deranged' thing or the twisty talk?"

"Both. And most of all that 'thee' and 'thou'. Made him sound like an actor in a really old play. And not a very good actor either." That made her think of something. "Want to help me rehearse?" she asked. "I brought along 'the Complete Works of Avon Stratford'. The Bard, you know. I thought I might try to earn some money performing when we reach the Inn. We need all we can get."

"Sure!" Imoen enthusiastically agreed.

"I think 'Gimlet, Dwarf of Granithome' will do fine. Let's try the scene where Gimlet finally gets to kill his father's murderer. I think I can get into the mood without a problem."

Imoen frowned. "But Rini, Gimlet is a male. A male dwarf."

¨Zaerini shrugged. "Well", she said, "that makes it even better practice, doesn't it?"

The woods thinned out as the two girls continued north, giving way to rocky ground. So far, they had been able to travel in peace, the notable exception being a single, twisted little black creature that ran screaming at them from out of some bushes. For one brief second Rini had thought it was the halfling Montaron before she recognized it for a gibberling. Not a very healthy looking one either. Two arrows struck it and it went down, still with a snarl on its face. 

Zaerini had gotten halfway through the dwarf Gimlet's dying monologue by the time they heard the roar. There might have been some fainter sounds earlier, but if so, they had been drowned out by a half-elf girl trying to imitate the gruff voice of a dwarf in an axe-fight, complete with dwarvish swear-words. The sound made her break off in mid-sentence. Whatever that beast was, it was large. Then the roar sounded again, closer this time. "Immy?" Zaerini said. "What do you think that is?"

"Dunno", Imoen replied, sounding rather nervous. "But whatever it is I don't think it likes your acting."

"Critics", Zaerini muttered, shaking her head. "No way of satisfying them…" There was another roar. "On second thought, perhaps we'd better just run for it. Or at least start walking a little faster." The two girls picked up their pace after that. It was difficult to keep from running full speed, but Zaerini was afraid of risking exhaustion unless it was absolutely necessary. By now the sun was starting to set, and the shadows were lengthening by the minute. She could probably manage fairly well in the dark. Imoen might not be so lucky though. 

A third roar, awfully close behind them this time, and heavy footsteps approaching. 

"Is this the part where we run?" Imoen asked, panting heavily.

Zaerini turned around. A large shape came crashing out of the vegetation. A large shape with a bald head, arms as thick as a grown man's legs and a very large club. Skin a sickly brownish-green. Your ordinary, everyday ogre.

"Yes", the half-elf breathed. "This is the part where we run." And she set off down the road like a rabbit with its tail on fire, Imoen close behind. Unfortunately, it soon became apparent that running would do them no good. Fast as they were, the ogre's legs were much longer.

"It's gaining on us!" Imoen screamed. 

Zaerini was thinking furiously, a task not made easier by the fact that her throat felt raw and parched, her breath was coming in wheezy gasps and her heart had dropped into her stomach by the feel of it. The ogre roared again, and she could feel the stink of its breath, smelling strongly of rotten meat. It reminded her of Abduh, a big, mean and half-witted boy who had set out from Candlekeep a year ago to become an adventurer. No one had heard from him since, but while he lived there, he had been a big bully, always trying to pick on the two girls and always getting himself humiliated in the process. And that memory gave Zaerini an idea.

"Immy!" she cried. "Scatter! Like the mud fight!" She was referring to a memorable event when the two friends had kept Abduh chasing one of them at a time while the other one pelted him with mud. She could see that Imoen got her point immediately. The human girl veered sharply away from the road, dodging behind a group of trees. Zaerini took off in the other direction. The ogre hesitated for a moment, uncertain what to do. Then it grunted and took off after Imoen, probably because her pink clothes were easier to spot in the darkness. Zaerini could see Imoen crouching behind the trees now. Whenever the ogre turned to go around them, she immediately changed direction, always keeping the trees between herself and the monster. Perfect.

_Oh, please don't let me miss this time_ , Zaerini prayed to whichever god might be inclined to listen. And she didn't. The arrow hit the ogre square in the butt, making it howl with pain and fury. Then it turned around and Zaerini could see its small eyes glow red in the darkness as it turned its attention on her. Oh crap, she just had time to think before it came after her. She barely dodged an enormous fist that would have cracked her skull like an egg had it hit. Then she jumped across a pile of fallen logs, feeling warm spittle hit her on the throat as the ogre screamed with rage and frustration. Yuck, Rini thought. Almost as disgusting as Abduh.

The fight probably lasted for about a quarter of an hour, but it felt like an eternity. A hot, sweaty eternity of near deaths. Eventually one of Zaerini's arrows struck true. Straight in the monster's beady left eye it went, to burrow inside its tiny brain. The ogre smiled sheepishly, burped once and keeled over dead. There was a minute or two of extreme silence.

"Must be my elven heritage", Zaerini said as she drew the arrow out, sparing a moment to kick the dead ogre. "Elves are said to be great archers after all. I think I'll keep this arrow as a memento. Cover it with gold, one day when I get really rich and famous."

"Yeah, Firehead?" Imoen said, her face mischievous. "I suppose gold is better than ogre brains. But if you're such a great archer, how come you dragged it out like that?"

"Er… to make it more dramatic, don't you know. A grand climax to an epic fight." Zaerini bent to see what Imoen was doing. The human girl was kneeling by the dead ogre, fumbling with something. "What's that?"

"It was wearing two belts", Imoen said, holding them up. "And now that I got them off they've shrunk from ogre-size. Looks like they could fit."

"Probably magical then", Zaerini said, her amber eyes glowing with sudden interest. "They could be worth a fortune! Good going, Immy! But we probably shouldn't try them on yet. We don't know what they do."

"Guess not." Leaving the dead ogre behind the two girls headed back to the road, the darkness now feeling less frightening than before. They had killed an ogre, all by themselves. 

"Pity we didn't have our bows in that fight with Abduh", Imoen mused.

"It wouldn't have worked anyway", Zaerini said. "Abduh doesn't have a brain to hit."

Imoen giggled. "Know what else?" she said. "In a contest between Abduh and the ogre, I'd say the ogre was definitely cuter." Their laughter echoed long between the hills, for the moment free of care again, as it had been only a day before. They were still laughing silently when they reached the top of a hill and saw the dark and massive shape of a fortress silhouetted against the sky, the faintest traces of red sunlight still illuminating its tallest tower. They had arrived at the Friendly Arm Inn.  
-*-

The Friendly Arm Inn had a name that was rather misleading, in Zaerini's opinion. The word 'inn' made her think of a small, rather cozy building. This was a huge stone keep, surrounded by high walls. Not that she minded. It was quite dark by now, and she felt quite certain that those massive walls and the guards that patrolled them would be able to keep all but the fiercest of foes out. Which was something of a relief, considering that near fatal encounter with an ogre.

"Oooh, I'm getting really sleepy", Imoen yawned. "Sure will be nice to rest now." 

Zaerini nodded. "I hear it is quite a good inn too", she said.

"It's awfully big for an inn though."

"Oh, it wasn't always an inn", Zaerini explained as they made their way across the courtyard towards the Keep's main entrance. Low buildings, barracks and the like, surrounded the fortress, snuggling up against its walls as if for comfort. "I've read about it. It once belonged to a priest of Bhaal, actually."

"Bhaal?" Imoen shuddered. "The god of Murder? Doesn't sound like a very nice place to stay."

"Bhaal's dead and long gone", Zaerini shrugged. "He's not likely to walk up and bite you. And the priest was defeated by a group of adventurers. Their leader, the gnome Bentley Mirrorshade, cleared the Keep and turned it into an inn instead. Change for the better, I'd say, even if I've heard he overcharges."

Imoen wrinkled her nose. "If you say so", she said. "Let's just hope ol' Bhaal didn't leave any junk lying around. If we're shown to a room with skulls and bones on the decor, and instruments of torture on the walls, I say we split."

"You have my word", Zaerini grinned. "Come on! We're safe for the moment and tonight we'll sleep in a real bed. Race you up the stairs!" Giggling and jostling each other the two girls bounded up the stairs leading into the keep. So intent were they on their game that they almost tripped over the man who stepped out of the shadows in front of them. A fairly young man it was, with mousy brown hair and wearing dark mage robes. He had a placid face that seemed almost dull until you looked him in the eyes. They were intent and watchful.

"Oh, sorry!" Imoen exclaimed as the man took a step aside to avoid being bowled over. "Didn't see you there." The man ignored her, giving Zaerini an interested look.

"Hi friend", he said. "I've not seen you here before today. What brings you to the Friendly Arm?"

Zaerini was about to answer as she remembered the words of that strange old man that they had met on the road. True names can be dangerous on the road, he had told her. 

"Nothing much, really", she said, keeping her voice casual. "Just road-worn travelers, looking for a place to rest, maybe some work. Just walking wherever the road takes us, you know."

The man nodded to himself, still looking at her as if he was trying to memorize her features. 

"I see, I see", he said. There was an eagerness in his voice now that Zaerini didn't like at all. "Pardon my being too forward, but you've the bearing of someone I've been looking for. About your height, they were. Same style of dress, or thereabouts. I daresay, you seem to be the spitting image of them. Might you have traveled from Candlekeep, by any chance?"

Could this be one of the friends Gorion had told her to find? Khalid and Jaheira… There was no reason they had to be together at all times, certainly, and Gorion hadn't told her what they looked like. But there was something about the man that didn't ring true. His gaze was altogether too unblinking, his voice too earnest. He was lying, or at least not telling the whole truth. Rini was certain of it. She had played enough dice and cards with the guards of Candlekeep to recognize a bluff, at least when it wasn't more skilled than this.

"I may have visited there on occasion", she drawled. "What of it? It seems a right boring place, just books and monks. Nothing interesting ever came out of that place as far as I know."

"Oh, I disagree", the wizard said. He was smiling by now. "I think something interesting has come out of Candlekeep only recently. Or should I say someone? Your name wouldn't be Zaerini by any chance, would it?"

Zaerini snorted. "Silly name", she said. "Never heard it before in my life. Sorry, but you're wasting your time."

"Really?" The man stretched and flexed his fingers. "I would beg to differ. You fit the description, so I think it would be safe to assume you are the one I seek. Red hair, yellow eyes and bratty manners. And a half-elf too. Yes, I really do think you are the one. Don't move. I have something for you." With a swift motion he flung something into the air, then moved his hands in a wide circle as his voice intoned the words of a spell. And then there were suddenly four of him, four identical copies moving as one, indistinguishable from each other.

"Run!" Zaerini just had time to shout before the assassin launched his second spell. The hot rage that had overtaken her when she was attacked back in Candlekeep was struggling to reach the surface of her mind, but before it had time to do more than stir it was extinguished by icy dread. Shaking, shivering with icy fear she could do nothing but stare at the terrifying figures that smiled in certain triumph as they prepared for the kill. Vaguely she perceived Keep guards running towards them, swords at the ready. One of the images went down, then another, but two still remained. 

And then the mage screamed with pain as jet after jet of small, magical energy balls struck him, shattering the remaining mirror image and then causing the robes of the man himself to start smoking. Imoen had sprung from behind an empty barrel like a pink fury, wand in hand. The strands of her hair visible beneath her hood twisted like a nest of mating snakes, so charged was she with magical energy, and her cheeks were red with excitement. She moved with what seemed like inhuman speed, and the wizard screamed again as the wand was strained to the limit and pelted him with magic missiles enough to punch more than one charred hole in his chest. Zaerini half expected blood to come spurting forth, but there was none. Probably the wounds had been cauterized. With a final gurgle in the back of his throat the man subsided into a smoking heap. 

"Miss? Miss? Are you hurt?" The voice of the guardsman was closer now, filled with concern. Zaerini blinked once and saw a lined face, tanned from the sun. It was watching her with some worry. She wondered how long the spell had kept her shivering like a leaf.

_Pitiful_ , she thought to herself. _Just pitiful. Some adventurer I must seem. I don't think I'll be telling this story without a bit of editing, thank you very much_.

"I…I'm fine", she said. "Some sort of fear spell. It has passed now."

"Just you be careful now, Miss", the guardsman said. "And mind you don't get into any more trouble."

Zaerini nodded vaguely. Then she turned around to see Imoen. Her friend was watching the wand in her hands. It had charred into an unrecognizable lump of burnt wood, taxed beyond its breaking point. Imoen herself was as white as a sheet, and now it was she who was trembling.

"I…I guess it was a lucky thing the wand didn't break earlier, huh?" she said, obviously trying to sound brave. She was studiously avoiding looking at the dead mage though.

"Oh, Immy", the half-elf said, moving towards her friend on legs that still felt wobbly. "I'm sorry you had to do that on your own. That spell hit me, and I couldn't move, I was that terrified. I feel like such a jerk."

"It's not your fault", Imoen said, sounding astonished at the very thought. "I was just lucky that the spell didn't hit me too, that's all."

"Maybe", Zaerini said, nodding at the ruined wand. "That was more than luck though. You were great, Immy. I've never seen anything like that. How could you be so fast?"

"Oh, I used that potion I had. The one that makes you quicker." She grinned. "That part was really fun, you know", she said. "I felt like I could zip around the Keep in a heartbeat and not run out of breath. And then I figured that if I could just keep him from casting spells, we would probably be all right. Didn't have much time to think about it, really." Her grin faded. "It…it's just that I understand what you said about killing, now. I had no idea it would feel like that. First, I was all happy and thrilled, but now…" Her lower lip started trembling, and this time it was Zaerini who hurried to approach her friend and hold her until she had calmed herself.

"I think the first time's the worst", she said. "As with everything, I guess."

Imoen nodded silently.

"Speaking of first times", Zaerini said, her eyes thoughtful. "Seems an awful lot of people are out to kill me these days. First those two idiots back in Candlekeep and now a mage. This one was probably working for Gorion's murderer. And we do need to find out more about him…" She moved over to the still smoking corpse and swiftly searched the body, trying to keep from noticing the smell of burnt flesh. The search yielded a few spell scrolls that she eagerly pocketed. After witnessing the power of magic, she couldn't wait to learn some herself. Even so, the short letter carefully tucked into one of the man's belt pouches was even more interesting. Zaerini moved over to one of the torches illuminating the courtyard and motioned Imoen closer so that she could read it out while not needing to raise her voice.

_BOUNTY NOTICE_

_Be it known to all those of evil intent, that a bounty has been placed upon the head of Zaerini, the foster child of Gorion._

_Last seen in the area of Candlekeep, this person is to be killed in quick order._

_Those returning with proof of the deed shall receive no less than two hundred coins of gold._

_As always, any that reveal these plans to the forces of law shall join the target in their fate._

"Well now", Zaerini said, drumming a finger against her lip as she thought this over. "This is good news, in a way."

"Good news?" Imoen almost screamed. "Rini, there's a bounty on you! How is that good news?"

"Means I'm important", the half-elf explained. "Not just a nobody. Possibly even dangerous, or why would he bother to pay for my death." The word 'he' she spat out with utter contempt. Then she frowned. "Two hundred seems a little cheap though", she said. "I think I'm definitely worth more than that." The frown melted away as one of her lightning-quick smiles flashed across her face. "Pity I don't have his address, or I would write him a very sharp letter of complaint."


	3. Cards Reshuffled

**In The Cards 3 - Cards reshuffled**

_Over the course of my travels I have fought many a monster, sparred with many an enemy and traded many an insult with people who want to use me, imprison me, enslave me, torture me or simply kill me. I'm able to deal with plenty of stress. But one of the things that always manage to get to me is being called 'child'. I really, really, really hate that. I can't help it if I look younger than I am. And I'm not immature. So there._

_Excerpt from 'Ruminations Of A Master Bard'_

For such a large inn the Friendly Arm seemed surprisingly neat and orderly. True, the one inn Zaerini had seen before was the small one back in Candlekeep, but she'd read plenty of books. In the stories there were always fights at inns, and immodest performers, not to mention mysterious and sinister strangers lurking in the corners. She actually felt a little disappointed. The common room of the Friendly Arm was warm and brightly lit, with several small, round oaken tables, and a couple of groups of large armchairs at the far side of the room that looked immensely inviting. Plenty of people were up and about, talking and drinking, but everything seemed very quiet and orderly. Apparently, those guards she had met at the gate had known what they were talking about when they said that the Inn was neutral ground. She sighed. Adventuring wasn't at all as she had imagined it.

"Let's go get a room", she said. Imoen nodded, and the two girls made their way through the crowd. Behind the counter a gnome was sitting on a high stool, watching them with bright and glittering eyes. "Evening girls!" he said. "Good to see some more new faces. Second pair in the last three days, maybe the wind is changing. None too many travelers have been through lately, you see, what with the supposed troubles down south. I'm Bentley Mirrorshade, proprietor of this fine Inn. So, what can I do for ya?"

"How 'bout some supper?" Imoen asked eagerly. "And a room. Do you have one with a nice view? Maybe a bath?"

"Just a second, Immy", Zaerini said. Something the innkeeper had said had caught her attention. "What troubles do you mean, sir?"

The gnome leaned forward on the counter. "Troubles down in Nashkel" he whispered in a conspiratorial voice. "The iron mine what supplies this part of the Sword Coast. Something's happened to it. The iron has gone bad of late. Brittle, like day-old ice. And let me tell ya, if you're in the middle of a fight it's not a good thing to have your sword break on ya." 

_The Nashkel mine again_ , Zaerini thought. _That's where that disgusting mage and the ugly little halfling wanted me to go as well. Seems there must have been some truth to what they were saying. Interesting._ She gave the sword at her hip a considering look. Better not to put too much faith in it, perhaps. She really would have to do something about those spell scrolls, though. Then she recalled what else Bentley had said. 

"You mentioned other travelers", Zaerini said. "Another 'pair'. Who might they be? The customers here mostly seem to be farmers and guardsmen."

"They're right over there", the gnome said, nodding towards a corner a ways off. Two of those huge armchairs were standing there, and Rini could just make out the vague shapes of two people sitting in them. "Though I wouldn't talk to them much if I were you", Bentley Mirrorshade smirked. "He's not a bad sort, but that stutter of his will keep you up all night before he's had time to introduce himself. And her! Whew! That lady has a tongue that could be used to file iron!"

"Oh?" Zaerini said, raising her eyebrows. "Who are they?"

"Don't know much about them, except they're fighting folk. Adventurers, I'd say. They've stayed here once or twice before, though it's been some years since the last time. The fellow's name begins with a 'K', I remember that much."

"Really. Does 'Khalid' sound familiar to you?"

"Yes, yes of course. That's it. Khalid and Jaheira. You know them, then?"

"Not yet, I don't", Zaerini said, glancing towards the corner. "But something tells me I soon will."

As she approached the two strangers in the corner Zaerini felt she was in danger of staring like a yokel. The man was armed and had a sword at his side. He had a friendly and open face, if a bit nervous looking. The woman more than compensated for that. Rini suspected that those slightly slanted eyes probably could strike a man dead at twenty paces, simply by glaring. Golden-brown hair framed a face that was handsome, perhaps even beautiful. It wasn't the frail, flower-like beauty of a princess in a storybook, but the beauty of a lioness basking in the sun, her kill close by. Her hands never strayed far from the quarterstaff leaning against her chair. Most importantly, both the man and the woman clearly were half-elves, their mixed features were obvious, though she looked a bit more elfin than he did. Zaerini had rarely seen another half-elf and was intensely curious. Her own lightly pointed ears were hidden beneath her wild mane of short flame-red locks, and though her eyes were larger and more tilted than those of a human she knew that she could pass for either human or elf in a pinch. _Part of both, yet fully a part of neither_ , she thought, a brief wave of regret washing over her. She had never met a full elf, but she knew that they frequently felt as much or more contempt than many humans did for those of mixed blood. She wondered how these two had handled the hostility that they must have faced at times, and she felt sympathy. A feeling that rapidly evaporated as soon as the woman opened her mouth.

"Greetings, child", the woman said, giving Zaerini a hard stare. "You look familiar. In looks, but mostly in manners. That insolent stare could belong to nobody else. You are Gorion's child, Zaerini, are you not? I have seen you before when you were a good bit younger. I hope you have outgrown your habit of biting people by now."

Zaerini felt her cheeks turn hot at this. Embarrassment turned to resentment and resentment quickly turned to anger. "Mostly", she said. "I reserve the biting for people who insist on calling me 'child'. That right belonged to Gorion alone."

"H-he is not with you?" the man asked in a worried voice. "I am Khalid, and th-this is my wife. Jaheira." As he spoke the last word, he give the woman a look of such utter adoration that Zaerini almost giggled. She swore to herself that she'd never let any man make her that silly.

"What has happened?" Jaheira asked. "We are old friends of Gorion. He would never let his only child wander the wilderness without him. And the other one must be Imoen. Infants, both of you. You are lucky to still be alive. Where is Gorion? Surely you are not reckless enough to run off without him?"

"Yes and no", Zaerini said, now feeling extremely angry. Her hands were trembling, and as she suddenly tasted blood, she knew that she had bitten her own lower lip without even feeling the pain. "We sort of had to leave him behind. Seeing that he was murdered last night. Pity his 'old friends' weren't there to help us, or he might still be alive." She saw the other woman blanch a little at this remark and knew that she had scored a hit. Maybe it was a rather underhanded one, but she was too angry to care.

"Gorion? Dead?" Jaheira asked. "How? Explain at once!"

"Please, tell us", Khalid intervened. "If...if he has passed, we share your loss. Jaheira speaks bluntly, but we truly are old friends. W-we want to help."

Zaerini felt the burning heat inside her mind subside a little at that. Briefly she told her story, with Imoen cutting in now and then. "…and when we arrived here there was another assassin waiting for on the very steps of the Inn", she concluded. "One carrying this." She handed over the bounty notice to Jaheira. The woman had already read the note found on Gorion's body, more than once and with much frowning and humming. 

"You are in great danger, Zaerini", Jaheira said, her green eyes thoughtful. "Not that it comes as a great surprise. Gorion often said that he worried for your safety, even at the expense of his own. He also wished that Khalid and I would become your guardians, if he should ever meet an untimely end. However, you are much older now, and the choice of your companions should be your own."

"We could t-travel with you until you get settled", Khalid agreed, "help you find your l-lot in life."

Jaheira nodded. "It would be a fitting last service to Gorion, though we should first go to Nashkel. Khalid and I...look into local concerns, and there are rumors of strange things happening at the mine. No doubt you have heard of the iron shortage. You would do well to help us. It affects everyone, including you. We are to meet the mayor of the town, Berrun Ghastkill."

Opposing thoughts rushed through Zaerini's mind, fighting like kittens over a piece of string. Khalid seemed nice, and they both looked like competent warriors, if not legendary ones. But could she get along with Jaheira? That was the question. The woman seemed to have made up her mind to treat Rini like a child with an attitude problem. On the other hand, Gorion had trusted these two. In the end that was what made her decide. "Gorion trusted you", she said. "And I trust him. Yes, I would like your company. With all the people out to kill me I can use some help." She gave Jaheira a pointed look. "But forget about the 'guardian' thing. I will be the one to make the decisions", she said. "Speaking of which, this is the third time I've heard Nashkel mentioned today. Since I don't know where Gorion would have taken me I might as well do as you ask. We will go there as soon as possible."

"E-excellent!" Khalid exclaimed. "We will see you both tomorrow then. W-we were just about to retire." He gave his wife a fond look. 

"Yes", Jaheira said. "You should get some rest too. This is serious business, not to be taken lightly. We should be able to start early tomorrow."

"Maybe", Zaerini said. She was starting to feel irritated once more. "Unless I want to stay in bed all morning of course. I haven't actually slept very much for a couple of days."

"You should keep the accommodations simple", Jaheira said. "It would be foolish in the extreme to waste money on needless luxury."

"Oh, really?" Zaerini asked. Irritation was escalating into severe annoyance. "Well, when I want your advice on how to spend my money I will ask for it." She abruptly stood up and stalked over to the innkeeper. "I'd like to rent the best room you have for me and my friend", she said, taking care to speak in a voice loud enough that Jaheira couldn't fail to hear it. "How much is it?"

"Eight gold pieces", the gnome said. "But are you really sure that…"

"Of course, I'm sure", Rini snapped. "Just give me the keys already." She then forced a smile onto her face. "I am sorry for my rudeness", she said. "I have a lot on my mind. A question for you if you please. I am a bard, and I wonder if you think your guests would be up for some entertainment once I've had time to eat and refresh myself?"

"Oh, certainly", the gnome said. "Just come down later on, and we'll arrange it."

"Thank you", Zaerini said with a warm smile. She grabbed the keys and walked back to her companions, dangling the keys triumphantly under Jaheira's nose. The woman just snorted with disgust.

"We will see you tomorrow then", Rini said. "Unless you want to watch my performance, of course. Right now, me and Immy are going to enjoy some needless luxury."

Two hours later Zaerini was feeling very satisfied with her decision. She'd had a lovely bath and an excellent dinner in her room. And a very nice room it was too. There was a huge four-poster bed, almost as wide as it was long, with fluffy pillows and clean sheets. There was a table and a few comfortable chairs, soft carpets on the floor and a bookshelf in the corner.

"Pity we're not going to stay long", she said. "I could easily get used to this."

"Me too!" Imoen agreed. She was sitting on the bed, gently bouncing up and down. 

"Still", Zaerini said, "if we want to be able to continue renting rooms like this one, I suppose I'd better get to work."

"What are you gonna do?"

"No acting, I think. I'm only one person, after all. Music will be better, and some sleight of hand should go down well."

"Card tricks?" Imoen asked. "Are you really sure that's a good idea, Rini? After…after what happened last time, I mean."

Zaerini pulled out her Chaltar deck and gave it a long, hard look. "I think it'll be OK", she said. "But I've been thinking… I think I really should try to do another foretelling." She raised a hand to forestall Imoen's words of protest. "I know, I know. It wasn't very pleasant the last time. But the Knight of Swords did turn out to be real. And…so did Death. Maybe if I could do it again, it would be helpful. I could learn something important, even about Gorion's murderer." Her amber eyes were glittering with determination. "I have to try. Just keep an eye on me, and if it seems to go wrong you wake me up." She deftly shuffled the cards, let them flow through her fingers like running water, split the deck and let the two halves merge again as they leapt from hand to hand. Then she swiftly chose her cards and spread them out in front of her. "Show me what I need to know at this moment", she said in a thoughtful voice. "The present and the immediate and near future, and how to affect them to my benefit." She turned the cards over and studied them carefully.

In the centre lay the Bard, obviously representing herself. The Star and the Harp closely flanked it. Then came the Fool, twice. After that, Judgement coupled with Death. Further off and closer to the edge of the reading were the Wizard of Coin and the Rogue, still linked. In direct opposition to those two cards she could see the Wizard of Rods and Strength, and Judgement lay between them. Finally, the Death card once more, alone.

Rini stared at the cards, puzzling over their meaning. The Star and the Harp were close companions to her own Bard card. The Star was a smiling child, glowing brightly with white light, the Harp a stylised image. Something about the Star reminded her of Imoen. Perhaps it was the cheerful, innocent expression. Then perhaps the Harp represented her new companions? But they were obviously warriors, not musicians. She could make no sense of it. 

Twice the Fool, capering side by side in different shades of motley. There were plenty of fools and madmen in the world, but it meant nothing to her at the moment. 

Judgement and Death next. That hinted at her being forced to make an important decision fairly soon, probably in a matter of life and death. It didn't say what about, but at least she could be prepared.

And two different wizards in the future it seemed, and a choice to make between those two as well. She just hoped Xzar wasn't one of them, but the Fool seemed more suited to that one. 

Then Zaerini turned her eyes to the Death card. The skull grinned at her, its empty eye-sockets were pulling at her, dragging her closer. Her vision narrowed to a black tunnel, with the skull waiting at the end of it, mouth open. She was rapidly spinning towards it, out of control. As she passed between its skeletal jaws she screamed - and then fell silent. She was floating. Floating in the darkness, looking down upon an immense field illuminated by a faint silver glow, coming from no discernible source. Black blades of grass swayed silently in time with a wind that could be seen, but not felt. Beneath her the Cards waited. But they were also moving, advancing towards each other, then pulling apart. She thought she could almost see patterns to their movements. 

And now the Cards reared up, no longer cardboard, but ghostly images of people. The Bard was in the centre, a slim figure standing still as all the others spun around her. The Star was twinkling mischievously, its light bright, but the tune played by the Harp was one of war, stern and solemn. 

The two Fools were trying to reach the Bard, but kept getting into each other's way, tripping each other up and falling over again. One was wearing golden jester's clothing, the other silver, and the one in silver was the bigger one.

Judgement stood facing Death, holding out her scales. They held what seemed to be gems…and a human skull. 

The Wizard of Coins stood cautiously watching his opposition, not moving but seemingly ready to pounce. The Wizard of Rods was similarly wary, and for some reason Rini knew that this one was female. By her side Strength patrolled, a towering giant of a man. Behind the Wizard of Coin, she could just barely glimpse the Rogue, the dark figure slipping in and out of the deep shadows as it moved, staying hidden more often than not. All of them were slowly drawing towards the tall figure of Judgement in their midst. 

And then there was Death. The skull was laughing at her, a deep and satisfied chuckle. SO, YOU HAVE FOUND YOUR WAY HERE, it said. VERY CLEVER OF YOU. BUT YOU SHOULD KNOW THAT I AM EVERYWHERE. IN THE END, YOU WILL SERVE ME. YOU ALL WILL. 

The laughter was still ringing in her ears when Zaerini came out of her trance, the cards now lifeless once more. She had a feeling that no matter how soft the bed, her dreams this night would not be pleasant ones.

-*-

Now that the time had come Rini couldn't help but feel just a little bit nervous. All of those faces around the room, all of those eyes watching her. Suppose she tripped and fell on her face? She took a deep breath and hoped that her legs weren't shaking visibly. 

"Greetings, Ladies and Gentlemen!" she called out, surprised at the sound of her own voice. _This is it_ , she thought. _I'm actually standing here, performing for real_ "Allow me but a moment of your time, and I will divert your worries, lift your spirits, gladden your hearts and lighten your purses." There was general laughter at this. Rini smiled. She had them now, and as she went on with the performance her stage-fright evaporated. She played the audience like a finely tuned instrument, and she felt ready to take on the world. 

She had calculated that music would be a good way to get the audience in high spirits, and she was right. A lucky thing that her precious violin was kept in a lightly enchanted case, or it would never have survived the rough journey. She started out with cheerful tunes, common ones that the people would recognize and want to play along with and stuck a sad one in here and there for contrast. Between songs she would talk to the audience, take requests and tell jokes. After a while she put the instrument aside and asked for the tables to be moved towards the walls. While she wasn't a fully trained acrobat yet she was good enough to make her audience go 'Oooh!' and 'Aaah!' in all the right places, especially when she did a backwards flip over four raised swords that some guards held out at her request. She thought she could see Jaheira scowl darkly at that. Much to Zaerini's surprise both Jaheira and Khalid had come to see her perform.

_Or maybe just to keep tabs on me_ , she wryly thought. After some more playing and singing she decided to switch to sleight of hand. Her cards served admirably, and she varied herself with some other simple tricks, like extricating coins from behind people's ears or making other small items disappear and then reappear in unexpected places. All the while she felt like she was floating along, carried forward on a warm wave of approval from the audience. Well, mostly. One particularly funny joke about a Harper and a Drow Matron had the audience in stitches, except for Jaheira. The woman turned quite red in the face and looked ready to pop an artery at any time. _No sense of humor_ Zaerini thought. _Figures_.

She shrugged and filed the thought away for further reference. It was about time to wrap things up. Picking up her violin once more she fell silent and struck a pose until the audience had quieted down. Her golden eyes turned introspective and dreaming as she started to play. It was an old tune, and a sad one, written by another half-elven bard long ago. It spoke of being an outsider, of never fully belonging anywhere. As she concluded she could see tears in more than one eye and knew that she had done well. 

_And who are you_

__

__

To loathe me so

And treat me with such scorn

For listen well, both Men and Elves,

_This child of love was born_

She held the final note for a moment, then bowed low to the audience. There was a moment of brief silence, and then the walls shook with thunderous applause. She stood, beaming with pride. Imoen scampered around the room, collecting the generous donations of the crowd, pausing momentarily to wink at her friend. Zaerini returned her smile, and then she met Jaheira's eyes across the room. The warrior woman had a very strange look on her face, as if she were chewing the inside of her lips. And were those tears in her eyes? Then Jaheira became aware of the bard watching her and composed herself, her face regaining its familiar scowl. She turned to Khalid and said something, and they both disappeared in the crowd. Zaerini thought about going after them, but then Imoen came up to her and slapped her heartily on the back. 

"That was great Rini!" the human girl exclaimed, smiling brightly. "Will you tell me some more Harper jokes before we go to bed? Pleeeeease?"

"Sure!" Rini said, pulling a hand through her red hair to disentangle some of the worst snarls. "I'm feeling kind of tired right now, actually. It was worth it though. How much did we make?"

"Fifty gold, or thereabouts."

"Not bad", Zaerini said. "Most of these people aren't very wealthy, so that's not bad at all. All right, let’s call it a night. I want to check out those spell scrolls before we go to bed though. And then I'll tell you the joke about the Harper who found a trapped genie."

Sometime later both girls were upstairs in their room, getting ready for bed. Imoen was stretched out across the bed, lying on her stomach with her chin resting on her hands. Zaerini was curled up in one of the chairs, looking at her spell scrolls.

"Hello!" she said. "I didn't see this one before."

"What is it?"

Zaerini didn't answer immediately, being busy interpreting the mystic runes on the scroll. If they were saying what she thought they were saying this was a rare find indeed. A small drawing in the upper left corner confirmed her suspicions. 

"It allows a wizard so summon a familiar", she said. There was a very wide smile on her face by now, and an eager glint in her eyes. "I can't believe that the wizard you killed hadn't used it yet. This is really lucky."

Imoen frowned. "But Rini, you're not a wizard", she said. "You can't use it. Can you?"

"Oh yes, I can. Well, I'm not skilled enough yet to actually write it into my spellbook. But I can cast it from the scroll. Isn't this great?" Not waiting for an answer Zaerini swiftly pushed the other scrolls out of the way and made sure the light was good enough for her to read all of the words on the scrolls. "G…Gorion let me practice magic, using scrolls", she explained, her voice catching a little at her mention of her foster father's name. "He said it was a good way to learn. And I've always dreamt of having a familiar. They're really marvelous. Magical animals, or other creatures, much smarter than their natural counterparts. Some of them even have special powers, and all of them can talk. They're very useful, and excellent company. And it will help me with my magic, you'll see!" 

She forced herself to slow her breathing down. She was so excited she had started to hyperventilate and was feeling quite dizzy. Once she was certain her voice was steady, she started reciting the spell, reading it out from the scroll. As she did, she could hear strange noises echoing her voice, animal voices calling for her. Growls and hisses, barks and twitters, whines and snarls. All of them calling her name, calling it loudly. And somehow, she knew that one of them would be different from the others, be right for her. Then it was there, amidst the cacophony, and she knew that it was coming for her. With a triumphant smile on her face she finished the casting and waited. And waited. And waited some more.

"Didn't it work?" Imoen said. She sounded really disappointed.

_Strange_ , Zaerini thought. _I could have sworn I did it right_. She kept expecting for something, anything to happen. A flash of light. A loud noise. Something to reassure her that she hadn't made a complete and total fool of herself. 

_What do you mean, 'made'?_ a voice spoke inside her mind. It was a quiet female voice, a little haughty. And it definitely wasn't Zaerini's own. _Don't gape_ , it continued. _That isn't very dignified, and I want a proper Mistress. If you can't show some true intelligence you could at least try to fake some. Still, you smell kind of nice. I suppose you will have to do. Feed me, pet me when and where I tell you, don't bother me when I'm sleeping, and we should be able to get along._

At this the half-elf felt something soft twist itself around her left ankle. She choked back a yelp and looked down. A small black cat stared at her with unblinking green eyes. The superior look on its face corresponded perfectly with its words. She could have sworn that it wasn't there a second ago.

_That's because you are about as stealthy as an ogre_ , the cat said inside her head. _There is such a thing as moving silently you know. Even if few humans are able to grasp that concept._

__

__

_I'm not a human. I'm a half-elf, or can't you tell?_

It shouldn't have been possible for a cat to shrug, but somehow the meaning of the flick it did with its tail translated perfectly. _Whatever_ , it said. _You all look alike to me. You may pet me now_.

Zaerini didn't exactly like the animal's tone of voice, but she picked the cat up anyway. Its fur felt very soft beneath her fingers as she stroked it.

"Rini?" Imoen asked. "Is that…?"

"Yes", Zaerini said. "Apparently it is."

"What's its name?"

Zaerini realized that she had no idea. _Do you have a name?_ She was starting to get the hang of this mindspeech thing now. 

_Of course I do. You didn't think I'd let somebody else name me, did you?_

__

__

_That's the way we do it._

_I know. And why you two-legs are the rulers of the planet really puzzles me_.

_So what is your name?_

The cat purred as Zaerini scratched behind its ear. _Little more to the left… Yes. That's the spot. My name is She-who-walks-the-shadows-and-pounces-on-her-prey-to-devour-it-after-playing-cruelly-with-it._

__

__

_Er…That is just a little long_.

_Oh, fine. If that is too complicated for your limited intellect you may call me Softpaws. And if you ever shorten that to 'Softy' you will find dead mice beneath your pillow for a month._

Zaerini laughed silently at this. The cat sounded arrogant enough, but its loud purring hinted that it was more pleased with her than it wanted to let on.

"Softpaws…", she said. "I have a feeling this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship." She paused to think. "Either that, or the beginning of a nice fur hat."


	4. Midnight Plotting and Breakfast Pantaloons

**In The Cards 4 - Midnight Plotting and Breakfast Pantaloons**

_The Wizard of Coin coupled with the Rogue is an unusual combination, and a dangerous one. It adds stealth and subtlety to the Wizard's ruthless magic as well as dangerous weapons and magical force to the Rogue's schemes. Beware these cards, for they thrive on plots and secret machinations. If they are arrayed together against you your best course of action would be to try to win them over to your side rather than oppose them directly. But take this warning to heart. Should you fail, the danger will be even greater than before._

_Excerpt from 'The Chaltar Deck Of Cards - An Introduction'_

Midnight in the small town of Nashkel. Heavy darkness lay across field and wood, enveloping them as if in the folds of a dark cloak. The night-air was crisp and chill this far north, and heavy with rain, even if none was falling yet. From the tavern light drifted out along with drunken laughter and sounds of off-key singing. Everywhere else the worthy farmers and townspeople slept the heavy sleep of honest people. Turl Odipas, the Innkeeper, was having yet another nightmare about being gutted and then fried to a crisp by the guests inhabiting his finest room. And in that very room a red-robed wizard sat, thinking. 

Edwin Odesseiron was feeling annoyed. This was his chance to prove himself to his superiors among the Red Wizards of Thay, to show them just how capable he was. The mission was an extremely important one, initiated by Zulkir Nevron himself. Edwin, being yet untried when it came to practical fieldwork, had had to use all his powers of persuasion in order to be entrusted with it. But he was stuck. Hopelessly stuck. True, he wasn't the only agent deployed to the Sword Coast, but he fully intended to be the one to succeed and be showered with riches and glory. Unfortunately, that now seemed extremely unlikely to ever happen. He tapped his fingers irritably against the open spellbook that he was meant to be studying. How was he supposed to concentrate when all he wanted to do was to tear his beard out and scream with frustration? So far, he had made no progress at all in finding his quarry, much less in carrying out the mission. Besides, even in this supposedly luxurious room there were rats to disturb him. He'd heard them scratching inside the walls at night, keeping him awake. Some luxury! 

_I wish I knew a spell to let me turn that fat innkeeper into a rat_ , he thought. _A nice, plump rat. Then I'd be more than happy to feed him to a cat, one inch at a time_. In fact, there was a rat scurrying along the wall right now, its claws making tiny clicking noises. Edwin smirked and waved his hand. Red balls of energy flew from it, hitting the animal and incinerating it on the spot. "That should teach you", he muttered.

"In a temper, are we?" a voice said from the window, causing the wizard to startle. As he turned around, he thought he saw a hint of amusement in his companion's black eyes. Vadrak Dekaras, the Odesseiron Family Assassin, slipped inside the open window making no more noise than a shadow. A booted foot turned the still smoldering rat over. "Yes", the assassin said. "That dirty rat will never again be a menace to society. A commendable action, almost paladin-like in its dedication to a cause and its total disregard of common sense." He raised an eyebrow. "In other words, overkill. There are such things as mouse-traps after all, and spells should not be wasted when in potentially hostile territory."

Edwin sighed. Having been his tutor throughout childhood the assassin still was capable of making him feel approximately six years old, even without making an effort. "I was getting bored", he admitted, hoping he didn't sound too whiny. "Were you able to learn anything while you were gone?"

"Yes", Dekaras said. He casually sat down and propped his long legs up on the table, letting the chair lean back against the wall. "But first tell me how you did. This is your assignment after all. I only came because you asked me to."

Edwin had been curious about that. "You don't approve, do you?" he asked. 

"Not really, no. But that makes no difference. The mission was given to you and it must be carried out, or you will find yourself in very deep trouble. I have no intention of seeing all the effort I put into your education go to waste. So. How was your day?"

"The Witch and that giant idiot with the hamster left early this morning, heading west. I had words with one of the servants at the Mayor's manor-house. He had overheard them discussing some sort of fortress to the west, something regarding a prophecy. They haven't returned yet."

"I see", the assassin said. "Interesting. And it should make things easier for us if we don't have them breathing down our neck all the time. That should spare us the effort of killing them for the moment."

"It makes no sense", Edwin said. "From what I've been able to gather that fortress is swarming with gnolls. Why would they want to go there? It cannot possibly have anything to do with…what we're seeking."

Dekaras smiled. "No", he said. "But I fear the poor dear Witch is laboring under a misconception. You see, I know of the prophecy of which she spoke. It refers to a child coming out of the west, and out of a lonely fortress. That much is true. But hardly a ruin ruled by gnolls, a fact I suspect she is sadly unaware of. She should have done her research better before she rushed off. There is another prospect, and a much more likely one."

Edwin thought about this for a moment, trying to recollect the layout of their map. Then he remembered something. "Candlekeep", he said. "That is what you mean, isn't it?"

"Yes. It may be a library rather than a traditional fortress, but I am certain of it. Fortunately, we need not worry about gaining entrance to the place. It seems our quarry is on the move."

Edwin eagerly leant forward. "The girl is coming here?" he asked. "How do you know?"

"I don't. Not for certain. But it is a definite possibility. She has been spotted on the road, some distance to the north. The description matches the one we were given."

"Who told you?"

The assassin grimaced. "Some tattooed mage and his scruffy halfling companion that I met at the tavern", he said. "The wizard was thoroughly insane, and rather unsavory, but not stupid. He was going on and on about how the girl had robbed him blind when he met her."

"Did he know who she was?"

"Possibly. I would not be surprised if he has an agenda of his own. Of course, I couldn't seem too interested or he would have become suspicious. He was paranoid enough as it was. But the important thing is that she was travelling with another girl of about the same age, and with no experienced guide. This mage mentioned Nashkel to her, and the problem with the iron ore. It may interest her enough to draw her here, and otherwise we will have to travel north to locate her. At least now we know the approximate area in which to search."

"Perfect!" Edwin said. At last, a breakthrough. "And once we find her, we simply need to gain access to her."

"I wouldn't underestimate her if I were you", Dekaras warned. He tossed a throwing dagger from hand to hand as he spoke, and moonlight glinted off the blade in brief flashes. "If she is one of the Children, she could be very dangerous."

"But she's just an untrained girl, isn't she?"

"Perhaps. But who knows what she will have learnt by the time we catch up with her? And we do not know much about the Children. They could have hidden powers. Please, for once in your life, try not to be so reckless. And you are the one who must get close to her, not I. You wanted to do this on your own, remember?"

Edwin nodded. "I will handle it", he said. "I will offer her my services as a wizard on some pretext. She should be eager for a skilled companion. After all, I am a much more talented wizard than any other she is likely to meet in these barbarian woods. And once I've proven my worth it should be a simple matter to use my powers of persuasion to make her see the benefit of working for Thay. It will work like a charm, you'll see."

"If you say so", Dekaras said, not sounding particularly impressed. "Though I seem to recall a certain charm spell you cast two weeks ago that made you temporarily fall in love with a mule. I advise you to exercise some caution lest a similar fate befall you again."

"That was an accident", Edwin muttered a trifle sullenly. "It won't happen again. I can do this. Just give me a chance. I won't let you down."

"I hope so. And you recall what your orders are if she will not cooperate?"

"Yes", Edwin said, trying to look as impassive as his mentor. "To kill her. We can't let the Witches get her, or so Zulkir Nevron said."

The throwing dagger struck the wall with a loud * thunk *. "Yes", Dekaras said. "To kill her. Now listen to me. If for some reason, any reason, you find yourself unable to do so, you must get in touch with me. I will take care of it." He sounded extremely serious.

"Why wouldn't I be able to handle it?" Edwin asked, feeling genuinely surprised. "I may not be an Archmage yet, but I know my business. You've even said so yourself. Well, you hinted at it. Occasionally."

"Yes. You have reached a certain basic level of competence. But you are not trained to be an assassin. You may be travelling with this girl for some time, and in such a case there is a danger of getting too attached to the target. The Profession requires a certain mindset, an ability to detach yourself from personal feelings. Now, I would not like having to kill that girl. I do not approve of killing a person simply because they refuse to be drafted into service. You know that. But I will do it all the same if that is what it takes to keep you alive. You may count on that." He stood to retrieve the dagger. "Just keep your head, stay in control of your emotions and try not to antagonize her unnecessarily. I will keep my distance once you make contact with her, so you will have to manage on your own most of the time."

Edwin was about to say that he was fully prepared to do so when a heart-wrenching roar sounded outside. It was followed by another and yet another. 

"Dyyynaaaaheeeeirrrr! Minsc is sorry! Minsc is so sooorrry!" As he hurried to the window Edwin could see lights springing into life around the village at the terrible sound. He looked down, trying to see what was going on. It was the giant Rashemani warrior who had been travelling with the Witch. Edwin had managed to stay out of their way so far, and he didn't think they knew of him, but he certainly recognized them. The tattooed man with the large sword was walking along the village street, his sword dragging in the dust behind him. There were tears streaming down his face. "Minsc will save you, Dynaheir!" the berserker cried. "He will find help, and he will save you. Boo is his witness." Then he passed out of sight, but his roars were still clearly audible.

"So, the madman has misplaced his Witch", Edwin said and stepped back from the window. "If we are lucky the gnolls may have eaten her."

"I wouldn't count on it", Dekaras said with a sneer. "I think gnolls have better taste than that. But at least she is out of the way for now. And that makes our task easier. Now listen to me. We need to device a way for you to approach that girl, Zaerini. And I just so happen to have a couple of ideas…"

-*-

Zaerini felt extremely satisfied with herself as she and Imoen walked down for breakfast the next morning. It was a great relief that her first real performance had gone so well.

_Next time you should sing a few songs about cats_ , Softpaws suggested inside her mind. _I know all sorts of great songs about cats, I'll teach them to you._

_By all means_ , Rini responded. _But I have to warn you that I don't think I'll be able to find an audience willing to listen to songs that are all about cats._

_Barbarians. I suppose they'd prefer songs about dogs._

_I think they'd prefer songs about people._

_So? Cats are people. And lots better at singing and dancing than any of you._

_Whatever. Oh, there's Khalid and Jaheira now. I'll introduce you._

Zaerini had been fully prepared for another tongue-lashing from Jaheira. When it didn't come, she was extremely surprised. 

"A cat is at least a natural creature", Jaheira said. "It could be worse."

"Y-yes", Khalid said. "And she is very p-pretty." Softpaws purred and rubbed herself against his legs at that and then sat down in the middle of the table to carefully wash herself.

"We should get going soon", Jaheira said. "The sun is up, and it is a beautiful morning. If we start soon, we will be in Beregost before noon."

"Beregost?" Zaerini asked. "I thought the two of you wanted to go to Nashkel."

"Beregost is on the way", Jaheira said, sounding just a little bit impatient. "It is a good place to stop for supplies. We may be on the road for a long while, and there are some things simply not available at the Friendly Arm."

"B-b-besides", Khalid cut in, "we met a dwarf the other night who owns a house in B-beregost. There has been an infestation of s-s-spiders there, and she is willing to pay well to whomever kills them and brings back one of their bodies as proof."

"Seeing that you are so prone to waste your money on expensive rooms we thought you might be interested", Jaheira said in an accusatory voice.

Zaerini thought about this. She was in no particular hurry to get to Nashkel and earning some extra money and fighting experience sounded like a good idea before checking out the iron mines. "All right", she said. "We'll do it. Even if I did earn quite a bit of money last night. The joke about the Harper and the Red Dragon seemed to go down particularly well." She was intrigued to see Jaheira's scowl deepen even further at this, and also noticed Khalid's nervous glance at his wife. _I wonder…_ Zaerini thought. _It would make some sense, actually. We'll see what we can find out later_. Her train of thought was suddenly interrupted by an all too familiar voice.

"Hey! You're Gorion's kid, ain't ya? Still as ugly as ever. Has that red hair set the roof on fire yet?"

"Oh no", Imoen moaned silently. "Not him!"

Zaerini looked up to see her worst fears confirmed. A large human stood there, and she recognized him easily. He was very tall, if not as tall as her father's murderer, and heavyset. It was more fat than muscle though. He was sadly lacking both in the neck and forehead departments. Small, watery blue eyes stared out at the world from beneath bushy black eyebrows that met in the middle. His mouth was large, very pink and wet and the lower lip looked somewhat floppy. He was wearing chainmail that shone like silver and had a large sword at his side. Apparently, he was pretending to be an adventurer rather than the simple bully Zaerini remembered from her childhood in Candlekeep.

"Abduh", Zaerini said in her most icy voice. "I'm surprised to see you here. I'd have thought you'd be afraid to set foot in an inn. Somebody might pour salt on you and make you melt like the slug you are. Where did you come from anyway? No, wait. Don't tell me. I'll just follow the trail of slime, shall I?"

"Hunh!" Abduh snorted. "I've more right to be here than you, half-blood. Now, just scram. I'm a real human, and you make me sick." At that moment Zaerini heard the steely sound of a sword being drawn.

"You were saying?" Khalid asked. For once there was no trace of a stammer, and his normally so kind and almost timid face wore a look of utter fury.

"Yes", Jaheira said. "Please do go on." Her knuckles were white where they gripped her quarterstaff and Zaerini almost thought she heard her growling.

"Huh?" Abduh said. He had been so intent upon his bullying that he had paid no particular attention to anybody but his target. Now he did, but unfortunately for him his miniscule brain transmitted the information of an attractive golden-haired female but failed to register the fact that she looked like she wanted to eat him alive. "Say", he said, and Zaerini noticed with more than a little disgust that he was drooling. "You're really pretty. What say you? Want to play a little? Ditch these losers, then you and me can do a little…" His voice turned into a high-pitched shriek as the quarterstaff struck him in a highly sensitive area. It turned into a gurgled moan of excruciating pain, and he became quite gray in the face. With a final squeal of agony Abduh slumped to the floor, unconscious. More than one of the male customers winced at the sight of his pale and sweating face.

"Hmmpf", Jaheira said. "No stamina. And here I thought you asked me to play."

"I think perhaps he meant another kind of playing, my love", Khalid said in a fond voice, sheathing his sword.

Jaheira simply shrugged. "So?" she said. "Can I help it if he has a poor vocabulary? That is how I like to play when it comes to filth like that. At least I managed to decrease his ability of ever fathering children and unbalancing the world further with his exaggerated stupidity. There are far too many fools already, the balance can do without anymore." Then she seemed to notice Imoen and Zaerini again. "I suggest you go get your packs", she said. "I do not think this great ox will awaken any time soon, but we will keep an eye on him to make sure he causes no more trouble. We will meet you outside."

Zaerini nodded. "Right", she said. "Come on, Immy." As they walked up the stairs she turned to her friend. "You know", she said. "I think I'm going to like her after all."

"Yeah", Imoen agreed. "Anybody who does that to Abduh can't be all bad." 

They went to the third floor, gathered their belongings and locked up the room. Zaerini sighed a little as she turned the key. She had really enjoyed spoiling herself a little. And now it was back to the road again. They were just about to go downstairs again and were passing by the door to one of the other guestrooms when it was pulled open and she heard a voice.

"You there!" it said. It was a male voice, speaking with a nasal whine that made the half-elf want to grind her teeth. As the door was opened more fully, she could see that the voice belonged to a young nobleman, a true fop. He was wearing the latest fashion with striped purple pantaloons, a pink satin jacket and a wide-brimmed hat with a large yellow plume. As he spoke, he kept wiping at his nose with a perfumed handkerchief, as if to rid himself of some kind of nauseating smell. He squinted at her in a way that suggested that he was horribly nearsighted. 

"About time you showed!" he huffed. "Here, I need these tunics cleaned and pressed by this eve and be EXTRA careful with the golden pantaloons! It took 15 women and a small boy from Calimshan 12 days and 4 nights to weave them, so careful on the seams! Well? Get going! Are you servant-girls stupid as well as lazy?" He pressed a pair of pantaloons into Zaerini's arms. It was a truly ridiculous garment, she thought. Obviously, the idiot thought she was one of the girls working at the Inn and thought he could get away with ordering her about. She could tell from the way he squinted that his eyesight was bad, probably bad enough that he wouldn't recognize his own mother. A monocle hung from his lapel, but obviously he was too vain to use it. She was just about to tell him what he could do with his stupid pantaloons when she had another idea.

"Sir, yes sir! Pantaloons pressed and ready by tonight or breakfast is free, sir!" She curtsied and smiled brightly at the nobleman and was pleased to see his face soften a little.

"Service with a smile and a snap in your step", he said. "That's what we like to see. Now get going damn you! Not a coin for a tip if there's even ONE tear!"

"Yes sir! Of course, sir! Whatever you say, sir!" Zaerini curtsied again. "Oh, sir?" she asked as if she had just come to think of something. "A man of your stature deserves only the best. Won't you let us take your other clothes as well? All of them?" She smiled seductively and lowered her voice to a purr.

The nobleman turned as pink as that jacket at this. "Ah…", he said. "Er…certainly! Jolly good service at this place!" Zaerini just kept smiling at him, her golden eyes glowing faintly in the gloom of the corridor. 

"Just pass your clothes out to us, sir", she said. "We'll take good care of them. And then I'll take good care of you. My Master, the great warrior Abduh, has taught me much of men like you."

"Really?"

"Really, really."

"Er…won't he mind?"

"Oh, no. He sent me here, in fact. He is impressed with you and this is his way of showing his admiration. He gave us specific orders." Zaerini wondered if perhaps she was laying it on a bit thick. Apparently not. The nobleman simply beamed at her.

"Right", he said. "Just a second." Once her arms were holding a wide assortment of expensive clothes in all the colors of the rainbow Zaerini turned to the crack in the door. "Won't be long, sir", she said. As she walked off, she had to bite her tongue to keep from laughing. She was afraid of looking at Imoen for fear of exploding with mirth.

"So, sis", Imoen said with a wide grin, her blue eyes sparkling. "What's the plan? And aren't you afraid he'll tell on us?"

"The golden pantaloons I think I'll keep", Rini said. "They're gaudy enough to use for stage props. He can't tell on us; didn't you see him squinting? The man has no idea what we really look like. Now, I have a great idea. Here's the plan…"

Five minutes later Imoen was downstairs, talking animatedly to the gnome Innkeeper. "It's true!" she said. "He's walking about upstairs without any clothes on right this moment. He says he was fooled into giving them to him." She pointed at the unconscious Abduh who was still lying in the middle of the floor. "You think he's insane or something?"

The gnome frowned. "Sir Sarles?" he said. "Well, he's not very bright, but I've never thought of him as insane, even if he is an Amnian. Still, we'll need to sort this out, I suppose. I'll ask my wife to see to him and make sure he does himself no harm. She knows several stunning spells, good for subduing lunatics. And just in case he's telling the truth I suppose we'd better keep this fellow for questioning. He doesn't look smart enough to be a thief, but you never know. We'll clap him in irons right now in case he gets violent when he wakes up."

"Oh good!" Imoen said in a bright voice. "I feel ever so much safer now. Bye-bye!" She waved at the gnome and ran to meet Khalid and Jaheira who were waiting by the steps of the Inn.

"Where is Zaerini?" Jaheira asked, sounding suspicious.

Imoen was just about to answer when she was interrupted by a loud cacophony of squealing and grunting noises. Something pink and round came around the corner of the Inn at full speed, almost bowling Jaheira over.

"W-was that a pig?" Khalid asked. "A pig wearing a pink jacket?"

"Certainly looked like it", Zaerini said. The half-elf girl strolled nonchalantly up to her companions, grinning in a way that Gorion would have recognized and found highly alarming. 

Jaheira looked about the courtyard. "Strange", she said, her voice stern. "I also seem to see a cow wearing a hat, a flock of chickens nestling in a pair of purple pantaloons and more than one pig with a taste for finery. Do you have any idea how this might have happened, child?"

"Nope", Zaerini said. "None at all." There was a scream of despair from inside the inn and she thought she glimpsed a head sticking out of one of the third-floor windows. The sun was reflected in something that could have been a monocle. "I think we might want to get going though." Ten guards ran past them into the inns, carrying some heavy iron chains, followed by a tiny gnome woman dressed as a healer. "I think we might want to get going right now as a matter of fact. I've had enough of pigs and fools for the moment."

-*-

Beregost wasn't a particularly large town, nor a particularly exotic one, but Zaerini was intrigued with it, nevertheless. It was a new experience and new scenery, and she was all for that. Most of the houses were in two or three stories, and many of them had flowerbeds out in front, creating the impression of a neat and moderately prosperous small-town. It was a calm and sunny day, and she was in a good mood after the events at the Friendly Arm and the short walk south. The journey had been uneventful, except for the finding of a destroyed caravan. According to what Khalid and Jaheira had said there were plenty of bandits plaguing the roads these days, far more than usual. And they weren't after gold alone, they were seemingly just as interested in iron. That coupled with the taint of the Nashkel iron ore was giving the inhabitants of the Sword Coast more problems day by day.

Zaerini shrugged. Nashkel was still a ways south. They wouldn't make it there today, and besides, they had promised to clear out those spiders. That shouldn't take too long.

_Confident, aren't we?_ Softpaws said. The small black cat gave her that sidelong, superior look once more, as if the cat knew a thousand secrets she didn't and wasn't about to share them.

_What's that supposed to mean?_

_Oh, nothing. Just that there are all sorts of spiders. And some of them prefer larger prey than flies, if you know what I mean? Still, I'm sure you know best. Just waltz in there and get killed. Don't worry about who's going to feed your poor familiar once you're a spider snack._

_I'll be careful, OK?_ It was then that Rini noticed that the cat was carrying something small and shiny in her mouth. _What's that?_

_What's what?_ The familiar sounded suspiciously innocent.

_That thing you're carrying._

_Oh. That's my shiny thing. And you can't have it! I found it in the bushes, and it's all mine! You can get your own._

_If you give it to me I'll buy you some cream later._

Softpaws thought about this. _And some fish?_

_Deal._

_Fine, you can have it. But don't try to renege on the deal or I'll use your boots for a toilet facility tonight_.

The cat dropped a small and round object into Zaerini's outstretched palm. It was a ring, a gold ring with tiny runes that twisted their way around it. It felt heavier than it ought to.

"Oh, that's pretty", Imoen said as she saw her friend examining the ring. "Put it on, why don't you?"

"Not right now", Rini said. "I think it's magical. See these runes? I recognize most of them, but not all. What I wouldn't give for Candlekeep's library right now, I could look it up so easily then… But anyway, I don't think I want to wear it just yet. Who knows what it does?"

"Yeah, I suppose you're right", Imoen grinned. "There could be some sort of powerful evil spook looking for it or something. A Dark Lord who channeled all of his power into it and then managed to lose it."

The girls looked at each other and then shook their heads at the same time.

"Nah."

"No Evil Overlord would be that silly."

By now they had made their way to the southern part of the town and stood before a small and ramshackle house that looked like it had been abandoned for some time.

"This is it", Jaheira said. "This is the place that the dwarf spoke about it. Here, each of you take one of these." She handed out a small bottle per person. Rini shook it and could hear something sloshing about inside.

"It will work against most venoms", Jaheira said. "Hopefully the giant spiders infesting this house use one of them."

_See?_ Softpaws sounded rather satisfied. _Told you they wouldn't be regular garden spiders_.

"J-Jaheira? Are you sure the girls should come inside? It w-will be dangerous." Khalid gave Zaerini and Imoen a worried look as he strapped on his shield.

"Perhaps you are right", Jaheira said. "You children can…"

"No", Zaerini interrupted. "I'm not getting left behind like some sort of useless luggage. And don't call me child."

"Yeah!" Imoen said, pulling an arrow out of her quiver. "We can handle ourselves." She had bought herself a set of soft leather armor at the Friendly Arm Inn and was very impressed with it. The fact that she had dyed it pink detracted just a little bit from the warlike impression though.

"Very well", Jaheira said with a sigh. "But stay behind the two of us, your bows will be of no use at close quarters."

Imoen nodded good-naturedly at this. Rini simply shrugged, and she had a stubborn look on her face.

"Ready?" Khalid said. "L-let's go then."

Afterwards Rini and Imoen agreed that the noise the spiders made was the worst thing about them. It was a persistent chittering noise that sounded very hungry and more than a little hostile. There were four of them, each the size of a large dog, with hairy legs and more eyes than Rini wanted to think about. At the sight of the four intruders they immediately charged towards the door. Khalid moved to engage the fastest one, keeping the second away by bashing it with his shield. Zaerini and Imoen fired their arrows as quickly as they could and a second spider shuddered and went down, all eight legs still twitching. Meanwhile Jaheira had raised her hands and was starting to chant in a loud and commanding voice.

_She's a priest_ , Zaerini thought as she fired another arrow. _No, a druid! I wonder what else she hasn't told us_. Between the cracks in the floorboards tiny leaves and vines were shooting up, caught by the half-elven woman's spell and coaxed into rapid growth. Clinging vines caught one of the spiders and held it fast, an easy prey for the incoming arrows. As it died the plants fell upon it, putting down new roots and tearing it apart. Khalid had almost finished off his spider, and Jaheira attacked the last one, batting at it with her quarterstaff, trying to keep the length of wood between her and the poisonous teeth. And then the spider leapt into the air, a final desperate bid for victory. It landed on Jaheira's staff and ran up the length of it before the surprised druid had time to swat it away. She grunted with sudden pain as it sank its teeth into her hand and wouldn't let go. The poison was already inside her bloodstream, weakening her, and while unable to use her hand she couldn't get to her bottle of antidote.

"J-jaheira!" Khalid shouted. "No!" He was still battling his own spider and couldn't turn aside.

Zaerini didn't have any time to think. All she knew was that she had to get that spider off Jaheira fast, or the woman would likely die. But she didn't dare touch the thing with her bare hands. Hurriedly she looped her bow around the beast, using the weapon to scrape the spider off and fling it aside. She must have used more force than she thought, for the spider hit the wall with a wet sound and was still.

Jaheira was gray in the face and sweating heavily, but somehow, she had managed to stay on her feet. Rini couldn't help but admire such sheer stubbornness. "Antidote…" Jaheira croaked.

Khalid had just run the final spider through and now he hurried to his wife's side and held her steady as he helped her open the potion bottle and raised it to her lips. After a few seconds she stopped shaking. "That is better", she said. She still sounded a little tired, but no longer ill.

"B-but Jaheira, your p-poor hand…"

The wound was bleeding a little, but the swelling had already gone down, and it was no longer as angry a red as before. "It will heal", Jaheira said. "Nothing worth wasting a spell on. Now, we are supposed to bring back a spider as proof that the deed is done."

"Well", Imoen said. "Rini sort of squished one, and the plants ate one. That leaves either the one that Khalid split in two or the one that looks like a pincushion." 

"We'll take this one", Zaerini said and started pulling arrows out of the shot spider. "It's the least gooey one. But I'm not carrying it in my pack. I don't want spider gunk all over my spell scrolls."

_Or in my fur_ , Softpaws said. The cat had stayed invisible during the entire fight, but now she came sauntering out from under the bed. _I'll allow you to carry me when I get tired, after all._

_You could have helped, you know._

_Why? You were having so much fun on your own. Are you going to buy that cream any time soon?_

"I'll c-carry the spider", Khalid said. 

"Just one more thing", Jaheira added. She almost looked like her old self now. "The dwarf wanted us to bring back a pair of old boots and a bottle of wine." She pulled the items in question out of a bureau drawer. "If you ask me, she has had far too much wine already if she wants to keep these smelly old boots, but that is her business. Now we are done."

"Good", Zaerini said. "Let's take a closer look at the town, see what sort of inns are available and so on. Me and Immy need to buy some more arrows as well, and I heard some people in the street mentioning a smithy."

_And some cream. Don't forget the cream._

_Yes, yes. You'll get your cream. Stop nagging me_.

"You did well in there", Jaheira admitted grudgingly as they walked outside. "Perhaps you are not completely helpless after all."

"Why, Jaheira!" Rini said with a teasing smile. "That almost sounded like a compliment. Guess my bow wasn't completely worthless at close quarters, was it?"

Jaheira's only response was her trademark glare. 

A short visit to the smithy later the party was walking about Beregost, trying to decide what inn to stay in. Apparently, there were four. Feldepost's Inn being the most expensive, The Red Sheaf being the roughest and the Burning Wizard and the Jovial Juggler somewhere in-between. They were just about to go inside the Burning Wizard to take a closer look when a young man stepped up to them.

"Hail, adventurers", he said. "I have a proposal for you. I have heard that you're an excellent group of warriors. How would you like a well-paying job as bodyguards for my mistress?"

Zaerini thought he was really rather good-looking, what with his curly brown hair and large expressive eyes. The foppish voice detracted from the general impression though.

"Much as I enjoy flattery", she said, "I really don't see how you could have heard of us, seeing that we only just arrived."

"Oh!" the man laughed. "Silly me." His laugh sounded rather empty-headed and the way he batted his eyelids at Zaerini didn't help endear him to her. What a fool, she thought. Still, the work may be worthwhile.

"Well-paying sounds promising", she said. "What exactly is it that you want us to do?"

"I'm Garrick", the man said. He sounded as if he expected her to know the name and looked a little disappointed when she gave him a blank look. "I am a bard, and I work for Silke Rosena. She's the most skilled musician and actor along the Sword Coast; in fact, she's to play at the Duchal palace before the month's done. But....she's been having some problems of late." He was pink in the cheeks with righteous indignation by now. "Some thugs have been hired by Feldepost to hurt her bad, because she didn't perform at his inn when she was supposed to. You can't blame her for not showing up, what with a villain like Feldepost running the place. She needs mercenaries to protect her until she's ready to go to Baldur's Gate. She's willing to pay about 300 gold. What do you say?"

"A bard", Zaerini said. "That sounds interesting. Since I am one myself I should very much like to meet the 'most skilled musician and actor along the Sword Coast'. Why don't you introduce us to her, and then we can talk this over?"

"Excellent!" Garrick gushed. "I just know we're all going to be great friends. Come with me then, I will take you to her."


	5. Four Inns in Beregost, One Inn in Nashkel

**In The Cards 5 – Four Inns in Beregost, One Inn in Nashkel**

_Every day we make decisions. Small ones, like what to have for breakfast. Large ones, like which profession to chose. Some of those decisions affect other people as well, perhaps in a very serious way. And the decisions that greatly affect others are often the ones that make us choose our direction in life. Therefore, when the Judgement card is before you, remember not to be hasty in your judgement. For how you judge others will determine how you yourself are judged._

_Excerpt from 'The Chaltar Deck Of Cards - An Introduction'_

Zaerini wasn't sure exactly what she had expected the 'most skilled musician and actor along the Sword Coast' to look like, but it wasn't anything like this. Silke Rosena was a woman in her late thirties, attractive with her dark blonde hair and sultry blue eyes, but there was a hard look in them, and that hardness was beginning to leave its marks. She leaned on a beautiful white quarterstaff that almost glowed in the sun, and she studied Zaerini and her companions carefully from behind long and fluttering eyelashes that Rini privately suspected were as fake as her smile.

"So, you are the only mercenaries my little Garrick could find", Silke said in a flute-like trill that she no doubt thought sounded sophisticated. "I guess you'll have to do.  
You look to be worth about 300 gold, that's what my little Garrick offered you isn't it?"

"I offered them 300 gold, just like you told me", Garrick hastily assured the older bard, sounding for all the world like a boy begging his mother for a sweet. Zaerini had to suppress a grimace of disgust. She couldn't stand fawning.

"Well then", Silke continued, "I assume that Garrick has explained what your duties are. You must simply dispose of the ruffians when they come to threaten me. They shouldn't be too hard to deal with, but I would advise you to strike fast. Whatever you do don't speak with them. One of them is a mage whose mystic words can sway even the wisest of men."

"Mage?" Rini asked. "You didn't say anything about a…"

Before she had time to continue, she saw three men approaching. They were dressed in servants' livery, and as far as she could see they weren't armed. Not that that had to mean anything of course.

"Greetings Silke…" one of them began.

"Don't let them speak!" Silke screamed. "Kill them! Kill them now!"

Zaerini couldn't be certain, but she thought the man looked genuinely surprised.

"What?" he asked. "We are simply here about the jewels that…"

"Lies!" the bard interrupted, turning to Zaerini. "What are you waiting for! Kill them!"

Zaerini knew that she didn't have more than a split second in which to make her decision. Silke looked upset enough to do something rash. On the other hand, this entire situation was smelling extremely suspicious.

"Not so fast", she said, raising her bow and pointing it at the other bard. "First I want you to tell me all about these jewels." Behind her she could sense her companions readying their own weapons, but she dared not look away, not even for a second. Silke was snarling contemptuously at her now, and her eyes were as cold as winter.

"You little fool!" she said. "You have no idea who you're dealing with." Hands raised, she began chanting a spell. Rini had no idea what it was, and she didn't want to find out. The arrow flew, but rather than hitting the other bard in the chest as she had intended it struck one of the raised hands. It pierced the palm completely, nailing Silke to the wall of the house she was standing in front of. With a scream of agony, the woman broke her spell off as blood slowly trickled down her arm. Her staff fell to the ground, no longer a pure white, but stained with red. The three servants looked rather pale at the sight.

"Hold!" Zaerini shouted to her friends, flicking her red hair out of her eyes to better be able to stare her opponent down. "She can do no harm like that." Much to her relief they did as she said, even Jaheira, even if she thought she could hear the druid muttering something about 'reckless child'. She carefully approached the other bard, and once again she felt that magical fire coursing through her blood, a boiling rage that threatened to overcome her as it had done with the assassins back in Candlekeep. She grabbed Silke by the collar and stared directly into her eyes, feeling a certain satisfaction at seeing those of the other woman widen with fear.

"I could kill you right now, you know", Zaerini said, her golden eyes glinting maliciously. Her voice was soft, like a low purr, but inside her head another voice was roaring. That other voice was the growl of a rabid beast, the rush of spilt blood and it spoke of the joy of murder. _Kill! Kill her! Kill her NOW!_ And it was tempting to obey it, so very tempting. It was the voice of Death, as the Card had spoken to her during her foretelling, and with a sudden flash of insight she remembered how that card had been paired with Judgement. She would have to decide on more than one life today, and she had better choose carefully.

_NO! I kill when I say so! Not by her bidding, nor by yours, Death or whoever you may be! The decision is mine to make!_

With a dwindling scream of rage the insistent voice subsided back into the darker recesses of her mind, and Zaerini felt her head cool a little. She was still very angry though. "I could kill you and nobody would stop me", she said. "Not after what you just did." Silke was trembling by now. "I don't like people trying to use me", Zaerini continued. "It makes me really angry. Do you know what I do to people who make me really angry?" Silke mutely shook her head. Rini smiled. She then proceeded to whisper into the other woman's ear, describing the remains of the two assassins in Candlekeep, down to the last grisly detail. At the end she was actually forced to support Silke to keep the other woman from fainting. "But you're lucky", she said. "I'm in a good mood today. Tell me the truth, and I may let you live."

Silke stared at her for a moment, with tears in her eyes. She opened her mouth, and then she began to babble. "P-p-please don't hurt me!" she pleaded. "I'll talk, I promise. Feldepost had nothing to do with this. I just said that to keep you from asking questions. It was Travenhurst. Gerard Travenhurst."

"Who's he?" Zaerini said, frowning.

"He is a local council member here in Beregost", Jaheira interjected. "He lives in that manor house up the street."

Silke nodded desperately. "I was in his employ for a while", she said. "And I was his l-lover as well. I t-thought it would help my career, you see. He gave me some jewels, a gold necklace of some value, and a ring. But he didn't do what he had promised, he never used his influence with the town council to help me. I-in the end I broke it up."

"I think I see where this is going", Rini said. "He demanded the stuff back, didn't he?" 

"Oh!" Imoen said. "That is so cheap!"

"Yes", Silke agreed. "Naturally I refused. But he gave me an ultimatum. Said I h-had until today to hand them over, or he'd call in the Flaming Fist and accuse me of theft. They'd believe him too, you know. A council member's word against a street performer's? No contest."

"Really", Zaerini said. She turned to the three servants, and now it was their turn to look more than a little nervous. "Is this true?"

"I…I don't know anything about gifts", their leader said, "but Mr Travenhurst did say that Miss Rosena had some jewels that belonged to him. If she didn't give them over, we were to let him know."

"Hm", Zaerini said. "What do the rest of you think? Is Silke telling the truth this time?"

"She seems awfully scared", Imoen said. "I'd say so."

"I agree", Jaheira said and gave Silke a hard look. "But she is still not to be trusted." Khalid just nodded.

"Oh, I wasn't planning on trusting her", Zaerini said. "I still don't like being used", she told the other bard. "I'm taking this as payment for keeping the Flaming Fist out of your hair." She tossed the elegant quarterstaff to Jaheira who caught it in the air and gave it an incredibly pleased look. "And this", Zaerini said, "is the bonus I deserve for taking on more than we agreed on, and for you trying to trick me." She rifled through the other woman's pockets and pulled out a heavy money pouch, as well as a pretty gold necklace with a matching ring. "Don't be too upset. Your purse may be lighter, but at least I'll let you live to steal another day. Now be off with you!" With that she yanked the arrow out of other woman's hand and gave her a hard kick in the backside that sent Silke stumbling off down the street. Silke started running before she had even turned the street corner, and Garrick dove out of his hiding-place inside an empty barrel to follow her.

"Silke! Wait!" he whined. "What about the finder's fee you promised me?"

"Ha!" Imoen said. "Don't expect we'll ever see them again, right Rini?"

Zaerini didn't answer. She waved the bloody arrow in the general direction of the three servants who took a few steps back. "Tell me where Travenhurst lives", she said. "And then take the day off. You've never seen me, and you don't know anything about me."

Two of the men just gaped, but their leader was a bit quicker on the uptake.

"Of course not, Miss", he said after he had finished giving her directions. "Er…seen whom, by the way?"

Zaerini smiled. "Good man", she said. Then she strode purposefully off in the direction of Gerard Travenhurst's house.

"I must warn you, Zaerini", Jaheira said. "I will not condone murder in cold blood, not even from my friend Gorion's ward."

"N-no", Khalid agreed. "E-e-especially not from you."

Zaerini snorted. "Murder?" she said. "Who said anything about murder? Not me. Did I, Immy?"

Imoen shook her head. "Nope", she said. "Not that I heard. But what are ya gonna do?"

_Yes_ , Softpaws asked. _What are you doing?_ The black cat had disappeared out of sight during the fight and now came nonchalantly strolling out from under an empty wagon as if she had never been missing in the first place.

_Playing with my prey_ , Rini answered. _You should understand about that_. The cat didn't answer, but there was a sense of amusement from the other side of the link.

"I'm just going to talk to him", Zaerini told her companions. "But you Immy, you can help me out with something once we get inside that house." She whispered her plan into Imoen's ear, and was pleased to see a wide smile spread across her friend's face. 

"I like that!" Imoen said, almost skipping down the street.

Then Zaerini told Jaheira and Khalid their parts, much the same as she had told Imoen, but leaving out just a couple of minor details that they really didn't need to know about at the moment.

"I suppose it will be acceptable", Jaheira agreed. "It has a certain sense of balance to it. We will not interfere."

"H-he did treat the woman badly", Khalid nodded.

"Good. It is decided. When we get inside, I will do the talking. Khalid, Jaheira, just look threatening, alright? And promise not to interfere, no matter what. Don't worry. I won't kill him. Immy, you know what to do."

Gerard Travenhurst turned out to be a fairly old and skinny man, with bushy eyebrows and a red nose. The house was elegantly furnished, and the two burly guards at the door looked rather less than friendly. However, they were more than willing to let Rini in once she had shown them the gold necklace, and Travenhurst was equally eager to see her.

"Ah, yes", he said. "Poor Silke. You have done well, very well, and you deserve a reward. Where is she now?"

"Oh, her body's lying on the other side of town", Zaerini said with a pleasant smile on her face. "Right behind Feldepost's Inn. You might want to send your two friends to take it away. She did talk a bit before she died, and in a loud voice too. Surely it would be better if she disappeared quietly and without a fuss? As it is, I don't think anybody saw the fight, but somebody could stumble over her at any moment. Who knows? She could be carrying your love letters or something. People can be such gossips." She gave the old man a mournful look as she said the last and saw him blanch.

"Absolutely", he said. "You two! You heard her! See to it at once!" The two guards nodded and walked out the door. Rini estimated that it would be a while before they returned. Plenty of time. She had seen Imoen slip quietly upstairs a few minutes ago, even if Travenhurst hadn't.

"And now", she said, "I think it's way past time we finished this. You see, I don't like people who try to set the Flaming Fist on their ex-lovers and think they can get away with it because they're 'pillars of society'." She drew her sword and pointed it at the man's chest. "I'll be taking that necklace now, thanks. And the ring."

"But…but you can't! That's robbery!"

"No, it isn't. Those jewels belonged to Silke. You gave them to her, and she has given them to me. Wasn't that nice of her? Now hand them over." 

"It is as she says", Jaheira said. "You have no right to them any longer."

The council member sputtered with indignation, but he did give Zaerini the items in question. "I'll see you hang for this!" he fumed. "The Fist will hear about it!"

"Actually", Zaerini said, "I don't think so." She raised her voice. "Are you done yet?" she yelled. 

"Yup", Imoen said as she came sliding down the railing like a pink lightning bolt to land on the carpet with a soft thump. "All done."

"W-what have you done?" Travenhurst stammered.

Zaerini smiled again, and this time the smile wasn't quite so pleasant. "Right now, there is a large quantity of Black Lotus hidden in your house", she said. Behind her she could hear Jaheira gasp. She just hoped the woman would have the sense to keep her mouth shut. "Highly illegal stuff, in case you didn't know. Look for it if you want to, but you won't ever find it. My friend here is as good at hiding things as at finding them. If you breathe a word of me to the Flaming Fussies I'm turning you in, and then you will fall lots harder than I do. Your choice. Nice meeting you." She waved and walked out the door without turning around, but she thought she could hear the council member begin to sob faintly.

"Look Rini!" Imoen said once outside and well out of hearing. "This guy was really loaded, see! A couple of gems, a potion of invisibility, and take a look at this! A magic wand!"

"That's great, Immy!" Zaerini agreed, slapping her friend on the shoulder. "Now why don't we…"

"How could you do that!" Jaheira said in a highly indignant voice. "Black Lotus! Do you children have any idea how dangerous that is? Where did you get hold of something like that?"

Imoen and Zaerini looked at each other and then they both started laughing hard enough that they were forced to bend over double. Jaheira looked so very stern and reproachful.

"This is not funny!" the druid said.

"But it is!" Rini wheezed once she finally found your voice again. "Of course we didn't have any Black Lotus. Never even seen any in my life."

"But…"

"But Travenhurst doesn't know that, now does he? See what I meant when I told him he'd never find it? Doesn't mean he'll ever be able to relax though."

The look on Jaheira's face was quite priceless as indignation fought with appreciation.

Khalid started chuckling quietly. "I-I think e-even some of our more e-e-experienced friends could l-learn a thing or two from these two", he said, putting his arm around his wife's shoulder. "Don't you agree, m-my love?"

Jaheira tried very hard to maintain her dignity. In the end she lost the battle. "Oh, I give up", she said, smiling. "You might have told me though."

"Sorry. But then it wouldn't have been as much fun."

The druid sighed. "How Gorion ever kept himself sane throughout your childhood I will never know", she said. She didn't sound as exasperated as her words hinted at though. "Now I think we should see about finding an inn to stay the night. The Red Sheaf is right around this corner."

They pulled the door open, still in high spirits. The first thing they faced was a dwarf walking towards them. He had a nasty smile on his face and the large axe he carried told Zaerini that he was unlikely to be the local welcoming committee.

"You're at the end of your rope I'll wager", the dwarf said with an unpleasant smile. "Not that it's anything personal, you understand, but I'm afraid your time on this here ball of mud is just about done. I'll just collect your head and then my commission." He was wearing heavy chainmail and wielded a large axe that looked like it could chop a person's legs off with a single blow. Zaerini knew better than to underestimate him simply because he was a great deal shorter than her. She'd read about dwarves, and if old Reevor back at Candlekeep was anything to go by this fellow wouldn't take no for an answer. As a matter of fact, he looked as if in his vocabulary the word 'no', when used by others, simply meant 'Please lop my head off and kick it down the corridor'.

"Er…can't we talk about this?" Zaerini tried. "Make a deal or something? Tell you what. Let's play dice. If I win you have to give me all your money. If you win, you can have my head, if you really want it."

The dwarf snorted. "Yeah, right", he said. "And then I suppose you'll tell me that your neck wasn't included in the bet and that I'm not allowed to damage it. That's an old trick, you know."

_Damn. I didn't think he'd know that one._

_Well, he is a dwarf_ , Softpaws said. _And it was a dwarf who fell for it the first time, after all. Dwarves have long memories._

"No", the dwarf said, "I think I'll just kill you right now. Nothing personal, as I said. I'm sure you're a great kid, but business is business."

"Y-you shall not harm her", Khalid said, drawing his sword. He had a very determined look in his eyes. 

"No", Jaheira agreed. "Boast all you like, but if you value your life you will back away at once."

The dwarf didn't answer. He simply charged the druid, roaring like a raging bear and swinging his axe. The blow would have taken Jaheira's head off, had it hit. As it was, she jumped to the side and the axe got stuck in the door. The dwarf cursed in a loud voice and tried to yank it free. Rini saw Imoen look very impressed with the words he used, obviously filing them away inside her head for future reference. Then the dwarf broke off in mid-swearing as Khalid ran him through. "Bollocks", he grunted as blood spurted from his mouth. "I wish I'd h-had some good, dwarrrrven mail instead." Ironically, as soon as his dead body hit the floor the axe was pulled free. It came crashing down on top of him and neatly lopped his head off.

"Yeeewww!" Imoen said. "That is so disgusting."

"Yes", Jaheira said and turned the body over. "I have never seen a beard with so many different foodstuffs stuck in it before. Now what is this, I wonder?" 

The dwarf had been carrying a piece of parchment. The druid read it through once, and then wordlessly handed it to Zaerini.

_BOUNTY NOTICE_

_Be it known to all those of evil intent, that a bounty has been placed upon the head of Zaerini, the foster child of Gorion._

_Last seen in the area of Candlekeep, this person is to be killed in quick order._

_This offer has been extended to all appropriate guilds._

_Those returning with proof of the deed shall receive no less than three hundred and fifty coins of gold._

_As always, any that reveal these plans to the forces of law shall join the target in their fate._

"This is getting to be something of a habit", Rini said with a slightly shaky smile, and put the bounty notice inside her pack with the other one. "At least the price has gone up a little. I wonder if Mr Spiky Armor will offer a free cuddly toy along with the money next time. This guy looked grumpy enough to be in bad need of one. Though I don't suppose being an assassin is likely to make you very cheerful. Then again, who am I to know? The ones I've met so far haven't exactly been out to socialize." Then the half-elf felt a firm hand on her shoulder and looked into a pair of slanted green eyes.

"Child, you are babbling", Jaheira said. Her voice was stern, but not unkind. "You are in need of some rest, and I do not think this inn is the best place for it."

"N-n-no, I quite agree", Khalid said and shuddered as he looked at the headless body in the corner. Judging from the sounds of a vicious barfight emerging from the interior of the inn, a fresh corpse wouldn't be a new experience to the proprietor. 

"The Burning Wizard is almost next door", Jaheira said. "Let us try that one." Zaerini was too tired to argue. She allowed herself to be gently steered out the door. 

Unfortunately, the Burning Wizard turned out to be the haunt of a halfling pickpocket. Once she caught him with his hand in his pocket and a feeble excuse on his lips Rini felt ready to explode. She grabbed the little thief by the collar and shook him like a rat.

"I. Just. Want. Some. Rest.", she snarled between clenched teeth. "And if I don't get it soon this town is going to regret it. Now bugger off!" With a final shake she threw the small thief to the ground, and then collected the coins and other small but useful stolen items that had dropped from his pockets. The halfling scurried off, still looking a lot like a frightened rodent. 

That little encounter was enough to sour Rini's mood as far as the Burning Wizard was concerned. She slammed the door closed after her on her way out and headed for the Jovial Juggler instead. At least the name sounded promising. However, they had hardly gone inside before a man came walking up to them. He was fairly young, with blond hair and sparkling blue eyes, and his armor was very shiny. 

"Hail, friends!" he said. "Have you the time and inclination for a noble quest?"

"I suppose by 'noble' you mean free of charge?" Rini asked, giving him a thin smile. She was really tired by now, and that always made her patience extremely limited. "And the last stranger who called me 'friend' then tried to kill me. I'd choose my words more carefully around me if I were you."

"Fair flower of womanhood, it grieves me that you could possibly confuse me with such an evil miscreant", the man sighed. His eyes took on a vapid expression that Rini recognized all too well from conversations with some of the more fanatical priests she had met in Candlekeep. "For I am the Paladin Bjornin, recuperating here after my encounter with a band of vile half-ogres to the southwest of Beregost. They are setting up camp there, it seems, and they need to be cleared out. Alas, my wounds prevent me exacting justice upon them myself, but if you would do so I would be pleased to reward you."

"Really?" Zaerini asked. There was a certain look in her golden eyes that Gorion would have recognized. She had never been one to take things for granted. "And what is so vile about them? Have they been attacking travellers?"

"Well, not yet", the paladin said.

"How long have they been there?"

"Oh, I don't know. Two or three months."

"I see." Rini found herself gripping her sword very tightly, so hard that her hand hurt. "And don't you think they would have attacked by now, had they intended to? Not all half-breeds are uncivilized, you know."

Bjornin tossed his head back with a gesture calclated to make his golden locks tumble attractively across his forehead. "You have a good and trusting heart, dear lady", he said in a preaching voice that set the half-elf's teeth on edge. "But you are mistaken. They did attack me after all."

"Yes, I'd been wondering about that. How exactly did that happen?"

Bjornin gave a proud laugh. "Why, I challenged them of course", he said. "I walked up to their camp and said 'Have at thee, evil ones. In the name of all that's good and pure I challenge thee to combat." He blushed a little. "And then they all fell upon me at once. Very unsporting."

"Yes", Imoen said. "You'd think they'd stand still and let you beat them up one by one, without defending themselves."

"Oh, yes", Zaerini agreed. "I mean, I'd certainly be happy to let myself get killed as long as a demented tin-can had decided to label me as 'evil'." She felt Jaheira nudge her warningly, but by now she was too angry to care. "Tell me something, dummy", she said. Does it please you to know that by now those half-ogres are probably mad and suspicious enough to try to kill anybody who gets close to them? Did you get extra holiness points with your buddies for that? Boy, it must feel so good to be you. I'm sure the next person to get killed by those half-ogres will remember you in their prayers. Of course, those prayers will probably involve requests for you to be slowly nibbled to death by feral squirrels, but there is a bad side to everything." By now Khalid and Jaheira were pulling her out the door. "And another thing!" Zaerini yelled at the stunned-looking paladin. "Your roots are showing!" She was very pleased to see the man reflexively cover his head with his mailed hands.

"Well", Jaheira said once they were outside, "much as I agree with your sentiments I do not think it would be a good idea to choose that particular inn tonight."

"N-n-no", Khalid said. "We d-don't want any trouble."

"Says who", Rini muttered. "Oh, fine. There's still that other place. Feldepost's Inn. There must be one place to stay in this mad town where there are no jerks hanging about the place."

Feldepost's Inn was at the western edge of Beregost, and it was both larger and more luxurious than the other three inns. At last, Zaerini thought, sighing with anticipation. A nice clean bed, and some peace and quiet. She stepped inside, and immediately faced a large and extremely drunk man. His face was red, his nose purple, and his eyes glared angrily at her.

"'Ere now, get out!", he growled. "I don't like your type in here!"

"Heh, you tell 'em Marl", a second man chuckled from one of the tables.

_Oh, just great_ , Zaerini thought. _Another idiot with prejudices against half-elves. Just what I needed right now._

"No, I don't think I will", she said in her most haughty voice. "And exactly what do you mean by 'my type'?"

"You know damn well what I mean!" the man spat. "You 'adventurers'! Armed to the teeth, poking through ruins, and stirring up creatures better left alone! Jokers like you blow through town with monsters in tow, and then out again leaving us locals to clean up the mess!"

"Fine!" Zaerini snarled. "They should be used to it. If you're a typical local, then they're pretty messed up already. Now leave me alone or I'll make you do so!"

The man shifted from deep red to purple. Spittle flew from his mouth as he raised his fists. "You're threatening me!? Practically where I live, and you threaten me?! You sure must think you're tough with a blade on your belt! Why don't ya drop that armory you're carrying and put your hide where your mouth is!" Then he rushed at her, grasping for her throat. 

Zaerini didn't have the time to think. Her sword was out of its sheath before she knew what she was doing, and defensively held out in front of her. Marl was furious, and very drunk. He did see the weapon, but as he tried to veer aside, he tripped and fell. Zaerini stared at the widening red spot on the drunkard's brown tunic, unable to look away from it. The sword slid out of his chest with a wet sound and he dropped to the floor, dead. The last look in his eyes was one of surprise.

"I…I didn't mean to", Zaerini whispered. "It…just happened." All the customers in the bar were staring at her now, some with anger, others with obvious fear. She wondered what they saw in her face. She was telling the truth; she hadn't meant for the man to die. And yet, there had been that brief rush of satisfaction at the sight of his blood, that inhuman glee that she had felt before. "He…he wouldn't leave me alone! Why won't you all just leave me alone!" Behind her she heard Jaheira and Imoen whispering rapidly with the frightened innkeeper, and then Khalid was assisting her upstairs, helping her into a quiet bedroom and onto the bed. He helped pull her boots off and then held her tightly, allowing her to cry herself out before she fell into an uneasy sleep.

When next Zaerini awoke it was dark outside, but there was a fire in the fireplace. Somebody had put a soft quilt over her. Probably Khalid. He had left while she slept though, and she was alone.

_Of course you're not alone. I've been watching you sleep for over an hour. It's getting very dull, and you still haven't bought me that cream you promised_. Softpaws came strolling up from the lower half of the bed. The black cat nestled into the crook of her Mistress' arm, her green eyes glowing in the darkness. 

_Sorry_ , Zaerini said. _I was sort of indisposed._

_That is alright. You can do it tomorrow. Right now you'd probably faint and fall down the stairs, and then I still wouldn't get any_ There was short pause. _Why are you so unhappy?_ The cat put her front paws on Zaerini's face and stared directly into her eyes. _I don't like it when you're unhappy. It feels bad inside of me._

_I don't know… Because I'm good at killing, I think. Very good at it, even when I don't really mean to. I don't think I want to be like that._

_Why not?_ Softpaws sounded genuinely surprised. _Being good at killing is good. I am good at killing too. Then you can hunt and defend. Fight for a mate and protect your kittens. Any cat should try to be as good at killing as possible._

_But I'm not a cat._

_In a way you are. You are far too noisy, but otherwise you're not a bad cat. I like the color of your fur, and your movements are not bad. But you're like a kitten swatting at butterflies. A proper cat only unsheathes her claws when she plans to use them. I will teach you to be a proper cat._

Zaerini smiled and stroked her familiar, invoking a satisfied purr. _Thank you, Softpaws._

_It is the way of cats to teach their kittens_ , came the pleased response. _I will teach you. I still will not let you forget about that cream, though._

Zaerini was just about to respond to that when the door opened, and a strange man came inside. He was young, younger than herself, and had a shock of reddish-brown hair falling into his terrified blue eyes. The strangest thing about him was that he was dressed in pink leather. 

"You've gotta help me!" he pleaded in a light tenor voice. "Please! I can't get it off!"

"Hold it right there, mister", Rini said, reaching for her sword. "I have no idea who you think you are, but for that sort of help I think you'd be better off trying your luck out on the street. Unless you want to get a broken nose, that is."

"No, you don't understand! It's me! Imoen!" The man was almost in tears. Rini stared at him, wondering if she had heard him correctly. There was a certain resemblance to be sure.

"Imoen?" she asked in an incredulous voice. "What's going on?"

The man in pink closed the door behind him and flopped down on the carpet in a very Imoen-like manner. "It was an accident waiting to happen!" he said in a dejected voice. "I was so bored waiting for you to wake up, and then I thought of those magic belts…"

"You went through my pack, didn't you?"

"Uh-huh. And then I thought, why not try one of them on? I know you said not to, but I figured it would be alright. Except well…" Imoen vaguely gestured at her now male form. "And then I couldn't get the belt off. Still can't." Her eyes were filling with tears again. "Rini, what am I gonna do? I'll never meet any cute boys looking like this. Or if I did, they'd be the sort to be interested in other boys, and then what would they say when I changed back, if I ever do change back and then…" She…or rather he was rapidly getting hysterical.

"Immy, it will be alright", Zaerini promised. She hoped she sounded reassuring. "Maybe Jaheira can fix this. If she can't, then we'll find another way. Maybe ask at the Beregost Temple or something. Don't you worry. We'll get you back to normal."

_Or so I certainly hope_ , Zaerini thought. _Poor Immy. This is just too weird. And she looks so outlandish, I don't suppose I'll ever see a stranger sight in my entire life. Then again, who knows? If Beregost is filled with assassins, fools and madmen, Nashkel will probably turn out to be the home of a Red Dragon or something._

-*-

As soon as Zaerini saw the Flaming Fist soldier purposefully walking towards her she knew that he was going to be trouble. He had that certain look of zealousness combined with stupidity about him, and his two subordinates followed his lead.

"You there!", he said in an imperious voice. "You're under arrest for banditry, and highway robbery! We know you're part of that bandit group who's been terrorizing the Coast Way. Give yourselves up or there will be.......trouble."

"Oh, come on", Zaerini said. "We're not part of any bandit gang."

"Really now, and why should we believe you?"

"A very good question", the bard said, "and one deserving of an answer." She had no idea what she was going to say, but she kept talking anyway, hoping that it would come to her eventually. "How, indeed, can one divine the truth in a case such as this? After all, anyone can be a bandit. I assume you attack and kill everybody you meet, just in case. I mean, why should people be allowed to walk peacefully down the road when they might just be bandits?"

"Uh…yes", the man said, looking dazed and more than a little confused.

"And isn't it said that every person is a criminal, it's just that some people haven't had the time to commit any crimes yet? So that means you should try to kill everybody in the world."

The mercenaries nodded. When it was put that way, it sounded very reasonable.

"Except of course that makes you criminals as well, right? Conspiracy to murder or something like that. Tell you what. Why don't the three of you just fight it out between yourselves right now?"

Rini could see the tiny wheels turning inside three very thick heads. She wasn't about to let them make what passed for their minds up though. While the three soldiers still eyed each other suspiciously she attacked. She had finally been able to inscribe some spells into her spellbook, and now was the perfect time to try one of them out. A green ray struck the first soldier in the chest, and he gasped with pain, obviously weakened.

_Great!_ Rini thought, as she felt some of the man's lifeforce enter her. _That fixed the chafing wound on my big toe. Old Larloch knew his business_. She followed up with her bow, joining Imoen in peppering the soldiers with arrows while Khalid and Jaheira charged them with sword and staff. It wasn't long before all three soldiers lay dead in the road.

"Very…creative", Jaheira said. "But are you certain it was a wise thing to do?"

"Oh, come on", Zaerini said, and grinned in a way she knew would infuriate the druid. "Serves them right for molesting innocent people on the road, after all." She handed Khalid one of the dead men's suits of platemail. "Here, try this on. Looks like your size."

"B-but suppose the Fist find out?" he protested.

"Why would they? It's not as if there was a nametag inside the armor."

"I think he meant the dead bodies", Jaheira icily remarked.

"Oh", Rini said, absentmindedly chewing on a lock of bright red hair. "I guess you have a point. Hey, I know! Remember those hobgoblin bandits that tried to attack us before?"

"Yessss…" Jaheria said, still not willing to take anything for granted.

"Well, some of them ran into the bushes, remember? I'm sure they wouldn't mind disposing of the bodies for us."

"Yuck!" Imoen said. "That's disgusting!"

"Not really. They're already dead, and hobgoblins aren't human, so it's not cannibalism. Just part of the Great Circle of Nature, right Jaheira? Isn't that what you always say?"

Jaheira didn't respond. She just gave the half-elven bard a very dark glare, grabbed one of the soldiers by the ankles and started dragging him into the bushes, in the general direction of the hobgoblin camp. Khalid took hold of one of the others and followed her with an apologetic glance.

Zaerini spread her arms wide and shrugged. "Did I say something wrong?" she asked innocently.

The journey from Beregost had been a mostly uneventful one. The party had taken a detour to the Friendly Arm Inn, to get their reward for the spider killing, after they had taken the opportunity to get Imoen decursed and returned to normal. The priest at the Lathander temple east of Beregost had explained that the magical belt would switch the gender of whoever wore it. Jaheira had wanted to throw the thing away, but Rini had insisted on keeping it. She didn't know when she was going to use it, but it was a prank too precious to be wasted. Imoen had agreed, once she was back to her normal self. 

The rest of the enchanted items had turned out to be a belt that offered some protection against attacks, a wand that could shoot lightning bolts, and a ring to enhance a wizard's magical powers. Rini was wearing the belt, and she was saving the other two items for later. She couldn't use them herself, but sooner or later they might meet up with a wizard willing to join them. Some extra magic would be useful, she was still very limited herself.

And now, after plowing through a large group of hobgoblin bandits and fighting off a couple of ogrillons they were almost in Nashkel. Zaerini sighed with relief. She was getting better at fighting day by day, but it sure was going to be nice to get back to civilization. To sit down in a pleasant inn, put her feet up and relax. That mine thing could wait a day or two, certainly. 

Nashkel turned out to be a lot smaller than Beregost, a village with but a single dusty street, and a few houses along it. For a place plagued by mysterious trouble it seemed remarkably peaceful. As they passed over the small bridge leading into town Rini could see fields on the other side of the river, and a rooftop here and there. Apparently, this was as much a farming community as a mining town. 

_Such a pleasant place_ , Zaerini thought. _It's hard to imagine anything sinister going on here._

"We should go see the Mayor at once", Jaheira said. "He needs to know that we have arrived safely."

"Sure", Rini said. "Just as soon as I've had something to drink and a little rest. I'm positive he'll be able to manage without our company for another hour or two." Not waiting for the druid's response, she walked inside the first house on her left, proclaimed by the sign above the door to be the Nashkel Inn. It was dark inside, and it was a moment before her eyes adjusted. Then she saw the armed woman on the other side of room, staring at her. The woman pulled a scroll out, read it, and then looked at the half-elf again, grinning.

_Maybe I'm just being paranoid_ , Zaerini thought, _but something tells me that woman isn't simply out to deliver a letter_. She put a hand on her sword as the woman came closer.

"Just fancy my luck seeing you stroll in here, bold as day!", the woman smirked. "I expected a hunt and a chase from the description, but who am I to argue easy coins in the purse. May the Lord of Shadows guide you swiftly to your death!"

_Oh, great,_ Zaerini thought. _Another assassin. I'm surprised they don't trip over each other, their job market must be very saturated since they all seem to insist on going after little old me_.

"Hey!" Imoen yelled. She had walked in the door just in time to hear the death threat, with Khalid and Jaheira behind her. "That's not a very nice thing to say! Who are you anyway?"

The woman didn't respond immediately. She simply murmured a few words, and a large glowing hammer appeared in her hands. "Who I am is unimportant", she said, "though my name is Neira. What I am, is a hunter of bounties, and on your head is a lovely little sum. Does this satisfy your request? I thought it wouldn't. No matter." Her voice rose again, chanting out another spell, and Khalid stumbled in the midst of raising his sword, a vacant look on his face. Zaerini thought she saw Jaheira jump in front of him, staff raised to attack, but then she felt the world slow around her. It was like trying to move inside taffy, and her limbs wouldn't obey her. Her mind screaming with sudden panic she froze in mid motion, unable to defend herself. The assassin turned towards her, her eyes glinting with sudden triumph and she raised her magical hammer.

_NO!_ Zaerini screamed inside her head. _This can't be happening! I have to get free, I have to!_ But she was held completely immobile by the power of the spell, unable to so much as blink. Her mind provided her with a terrible vision of being beat to a pulp by that glowing hammer, still conscious and able to feel pain, but helpless and unable to defend herself. Where were the others? Had they been caught as well?

The assassin moved closer, smiling. And then the smile turned into a stunned look of surprise and pain, and a red fountain spurted out of her throat around the throwing dagger that had embedded itself there. She dropped to her knees, her weakening hands feebly attempting to claw at the weapon. Then her eyes glazed over, and she lay still in a rapidly widening pool of blood. 

Zaerini's eyes were starting to water from not being unable to blink. It was hard to see properly, but she tried to follow the path of the dagger, nevertheless. It had come from behind the assassin, from the top of the stairs, she thought. Then she finally felt the spell dissolve, and she was able to move once again. Not pausing to think she ran up the stairs, determined to catch the unknown rescuer. But whoever had been there was gone already, leaving only shadows, silence and closed doors behind. In the end she was forced to give up her search. 

"Zaerini?" Jaheira asked. "Are you unharmed?" She sounded worried.

"Yes, I'm fine", the half-elf murmured. "Thank you. Did any of you see where that dagger came from?"

"N-no", Khalid said. "I'm a-afraid that spell made me act very s-stupid."

"So it did", Jaheira said and patted him on the arm. "But I forgive you for it. And no, I saw nothing either. Imoen?"

"Uh-uh", Imoen said, shaking her head. She was going through the dead woman's belongings and had already set a very pretty helmet aside for further investigation. "Rini, look at this!" She held out the scroll that the assassin had been studying earlier, and Zaerini read it, having a fairly good idea of what it was going to say already.

_BOUNTY NOTICE_

_Be it known to all those of evil intent, that a bounty has been placed upon the head of Zaerini, the foster child of Gorion._

_Last seen in the region of Beregost, this person is to be killed in quick order._

_The subject is to be considered a formidable foe, and is likely to have well-equipped traveling companions._

_This offer has been extended to all appropriate guilds._

_Those returning with proof of the deed shall receive no less than six hundred and eighty coins of gold._

_As always, any that reveal these plans to the forces of law shall join the target in their fate._

"So, I'm up to six hundred and eighty now, am I?" she said. "At this rate I'll be worth my weight in gold before next Winter Solstice. And a formidable foe to boot. I kind of like that."

"Don't forget the well-equipped traveling companions", Imoen said with a grin. 

Zaerini smiled and pulled the throwing dagger out of the neck of the dead woman. It was a well-crafted weapon, sharp and deadly, and well-balanced. Black hilt. No identifying marks. _Well, what did I expect?_ She thought this a little ruefully. _Anybody good enough to turn up out of nowhere, kill a woman with one hit and then disappear into thin air isn't going to have his weapons marked with his initials. I wonder if that fat innkeeper knows anything, though._

She approached the bar and gave the innkeeper her most charming smile. For once it didn't seem to work as intended. The man paled and stared at her, trembling like a leaf. _Nervous fellow_ , Zaerini thought. _What's wrong with a friendly smile anyway?_ "Hello", she said politely. "I was just wondering if you could help me with something, Mr…?"

"O-Odipas. Turl Odipas, at your service M-m-miss."

"Did you see who threw this dagger?" Zaerini asked, tapping the weapon against the counter. "Or do you know who might have?" She didn't know what she had been expecting, but not this particular reaction. The innkeeper turned as gray as a corpse and stared at the dagger with complete terror in his eyes.

"NO!" he almost screamed. "I…I know nothing! Nothing at all! It's none of my business, anyway. I…I became an innkeeper because I wanted a nice and quiet life!" He was almost sobbing.

Zaerini frowned. The man was obviously lying, but she didn't see any way of making him tell the truth. Somebody must have scared him badly. "All right", she said. "I'll just rent your finest room then, for me and my friends." For some strange reason this seemed to agitate the innkeeper even more.

"N…n…no!" he stuttered. "That…that one is t-taken already. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm…"

"Yes, yes", Rini interrupted. Was the man insane? "We'll take whatever you have. Just stop blubbering and give us the keys already."

_You didn't ask **me** what I saw_, Softpaws said, flicking her tail with annoyance.

_I'm sorry. What did you see?_

_Nothing much. Just a shadow at the top of the stairs, moving very quietly. No details_. There was actually a hint of approval in the cat's voice.

_When you say, 'very quietly', just what do you mean by that?_

_Very quietly. As a cat would when hunting. On paws making no sound, unseen in the shadows. Claws and teeth at the ready. The way it should be_.

Zaerini wasn't sure she liked the sound of that. Sure, the mysterious rescuer had saved them this time, but somehow, she couldn't imagine that he had neglected introducing himself simply because he was shy. No, there was something going on, and she just hoped it wouldn't blow up in her face.

_Well, keep your eyes open, would you?_ she told her familiar. _I don't want that strange 'cat' to surprise me if I can avoid it_ Uneasily she wondered just what she could do about that.

Meanwhile a conversation was taking place upstairs, in the Nashkel Inn's finest room.

"She is here already?" Edwin asked with surprise and anticipation, almost dropping the scroll he had been studying. "Is she alone? Should I approach her at once?"

"No", Dekaras said, carefully locking the door behind him. "She is agitated and suspicious at the moment, and small wonder. Some assassin just tried to kill her, and almost succeeded. I was forced to intervene, or our mission would have been a lost cause already. Pity I could not get a closer look at the corpse. It would be useful to find out which other agency is competing with us, apart from the Witches."

"She didn't see you?"

The assassin gave the young wizard a withering look. "Of course she didn't see me!" he snapped. "I'm not some clumsy berserker after all, to charge blindly into battle."

"Sorry."

"That's all right. But unfortunately, it means a change of plans. Obviously, I couldn't allow myself to be seen, but that also means that she will be suspicious and wary of all strangers. You cannot approach her directly, so we must use one of the backup plans."

Edwin wondered just which plan his mentor was referring to. Then he saw the crooked grin on the assassin's face and knew which one it had to be.

"Oh, no!" he said. "Not that one! I absolutely refuse! It's…it's undignified!"

"Suit yourself. I am only trying to help, but if you insist on being ungrateful and unprofessional…"

Edwin sighed. He didn't like it much, but he knew that the assassin was right. That particular plan was the one most likely to work. That didn't mean he had to like it though. "Can we at least order some dinner while we wait?" he said. "If I am to suffer, I should at least be allowed to compensate in advance."

"Certainly, my dear boy. Certainly. Just make sure not to upset the innkeeper too badly. The man seems to get more nervous day by day. You would almost think he was unused to demanding customers. And do not stay up too late. You'll need to be rested and clearheaded tomorrow."

Edwin smiled. At last he was approaching his goal. _You need wait no longer, Zaerini_ , he thought. _You are about to see some real magic at long last._


	6. First Impressions

**In the Cards 6 -First Impressions**

_First impressions matter, that much is true. Then again, sometimes it really proves worth it to hold out for second and third impressions before you dismiss the rude stranger you just ran into. Once in a while, even fourth or fifth._

_Excerpt from ‘Ruminations Of A Master Bard’_

That first night in Nashkel Zaerini slept uneasily, haunted by dreams. Yet for all the nightly terrors that plagued her it was a dream of home that truly stood out in her mind afterwards. 

Candlekeep. In the dream she stood outside the great fortress, its mighty walls rearing up high above her, making her feel like an insignificant ant. She knew somehow that she was dreaming, and yet it felt impossibly real. I have to get in, Zaerini thought. Must get help. Must help Gorion. She pounded on the gate, screamed for the Watchers to come and aid her, to aid her father. There was no reply, and the gate remained closed, mocking her with its silence. The walls were far too steep for her to climb, smooth and barren, offering no handhold. "No!" Rini screamed. "Gorion needs help! Let me in!" 

_You cannot go inside, kitten._ Rini looked down to see her familiar calmly watching her from the ground. Softpaws watched her with unblinking glowing eyes, her tail neatly coiled around her paws. _Look_. 

Zaerini pushed her wild red hair out of her eyes and looked across the wall in the direction the cat had indicated. She could see a light, faint and dim. The light inside her old room. Even as she looked the bricks of the walls drew together closing it off. "No…", she whispered. "I want to go home…"

"You cannot go back this way, child. You must go on." The voice was a familiar one, a beloved one, and one she had never expected to hear again. The half-elf spun around with a sudden hiss of breath to see her foster father standing next to her. But he was no more than a shadowy image, a mere ghost of his former self, almost invisible in the quiet darkness. Still, his voice was calm and kind, his eyes gentle. Smiling, he reached down to pet the small cat who was rubbing herself against his ankles. Zaerini couldn't help but wonder just how that was possible.

_I'm a cat_ , Softpaws said. _We live partly in the shadow worlds. Really, you should know that. Now pay attention. This is important._

Gorion smiled again and pointed towards the woods. Rini watched the dark trees with some trepidation. This was how the woods had looked on the night of Gorion's death. She had no particular desire to go inside. "I have to go, don't I?" she said. "Candlekeep…is no longer my home. I can only go forward from here."

As if in answer to her question a path formed before her, broad and smooth, safe and secure. The trees moved aside, offering her passage. The road called out to her, offering her safe passage, the goals of all her dreams. It pulled at the very core of her being. And yet she hesitated. It was all just a little bit too convenient. She looked at her familiar again. The cat was watching something behind the trees, something that Zaerini couldn't quite make out, and she was hissing softly.

_A cat does not allow herself to be pushed or prodded_ , the familiar stated. _She goes only where she wishes!_

_Yes_ , Zaerini thought. _You are right. I will make my own path_. She turned away from the broad road, pushing inside the forest, and she felt hot tears rising in her eyes at the sight of Gorion's proud smile of approval. As the trees closed in behind her, she could her a whisper following her, ancient and malevolent. It spoke three words only, words that nevertheless filled her heart with cold dread. YOU WILL LEARN…

"No!" Zaerini exclaimed as she sat up in bed, her eyes wild and her bedclothes a hopeless tangle. 

"Rini? What's wrong?" Imoen sounded worried as she too awoke, shaken out of sleep by her friend's distress.

"I…had a dream", the bard explained. "A bad one." She described it, leaving out no detail. "I don't know what it all means", she said once she had finished. "Except that we really cannot go home again. I know I said so before, but I don't think I really understood it."

"Yeah, I know. I miss it too, even if adventuring is fun and all." Imoen suddenly smiled. "Hey, what d'you think they'd say back home if they could see us now? Great adventurers, living the free life of the road. You'll become a master bard of course, a real artist. And me, I'll become a great and dashing rogue!" She grinned. "Think there's a Thieves Guild in Nashkel?" she asked. "I've read about them. They sound like really nifty places."

"I hardly think so", Zaerini said, feeling more lighthearted already at her friend's casual banter. "This place is way too small. What do you want with a Thieves Guild anyway?"

"Oh, you know… I figure I could do with some tips to improve myself. Help me get the hang of things, show me the ropes."

"Just be careful not to get yourself hanged. Walking up to people and asking them for the closest Thieves Guild is a great way to accomplish that."

Imoen laughed. "I promise I'll be careful", she said. "Anyway, we'd better go downstairs. Jaheira wanted to go see the Mayor today, remember? And she's the sort to be up at the crack of dawn to greet the rising sun…"

"Hmmpf", Zaerini muttered. "That's her problem. Nobody says I have to go along with her insane notions…" She did rise however and started to slowly pull her clothes on. She was rather hungry, and right now breakfast sounded like a very good idea, even if it meant having to tackle the druid.

Khalid and Jaheira were almost finished with breakfast when the two girls came downstairs. The druid looked up to give them both an irritable look.

"There you are", she said. "I thought you intended to sleep the entire day away."

Zaerini took extra care too present the other woman with a wide and insolent yawn. "But Jaheira", she said in an innocent voice. "Our bodies spoke to us, and they told us that we needed the rest. And isn't it the natural thing to listen to your body?"

"And do you apply that same principle when it comes to choosing your food?"

"Of course. The body knows best. And right now, it would like some bread and cheese, possibly an egg. Oh, and hot chocolate is always welcome."

"Well, you will not get it." The druid sounded both angry and strangely triumphant at the same time. "There is nothing except porridge today. The supplies are short now because of the troubles with the bandits and the mine. Apparently there were some eggs and bacon, but some other guests snagged those before we got here." She gave the fat innkeeper a hard glare that caused the man to start twitching gently. "And he says that room service is not a regular feature and that it is some sort of private arrangement with some earlier guests. He would not give in, even when I was firm with him."

"Th-there is some blueberry jam to go with t-the p-porridge though", Khalid interjected, his brown eyes a little worried as he watched his wife. "I-it's really quite g-good."

Zaerini sighed as she seated herself and watched the gray lumpy mass in the bowl in front of her. Jam or not, she had never been that fond of porridge. Well, at least it wasn't poisoned. Probably. 

_Nice dreams tonight?_ Softpaws asked and leapt onto the table. _Remember the pretty and clever familiar you dreamed about? Do you have any treats for me?_

_What do you mean?_

_Treats. Goodies. Food._

_No, I mean about the dreams. Were you really there? Inside my dream?_

_Of course I was. Like I said, cats walk freely in shadows and dreams. I'm not about to let a confused kitten like you blunder about there unsupervised. Now listen up. The angry one is talking to you._

"Huh?" Zaerini said, immediately regretting that.

"I said that we really should get going", Jaheira said in an exasperated voice. "How can you sleep so long without getting rested? You look like you are about to drop headfirst into your porridge. The Mayor is expecting us. Now come." Without turning around the druid rose and strode out of the inn, Khalid following close behind. Imoen and Zaerini gave each other a look.

"Tetchy", Imoen said with a wink.

"Yes. You'd think somebody had shortchanged her bed or something."

Imoen's blue eyes were glittering with mischief. "Oh, good idea!" she said. "Maybe something else as well?"

"Nettles in her clothes?"

"Oh, that's a good one! Remember when we did that to old Ulraunt?"

Zaerini's smiled was blissful and her eyes dreamy. "Oh, yessss…." Then she shrugged. "Well, guess we'd better go before she decides to come back and drag us along."

The Mayor of Nashkel turned out to be a middle-aged man, with a rather nondescript face and thinning hair, but with an intelligent look about him. "Hello there!" he said. "I recognize Jaheira in your group, so you must be the adventurers I was expecting. I am Berrun Ghastkill, mayor of Nashkel, and I am happy to welcome you. I am sorry we had to meet under these circumstances."

"What exactly is the trouble here?" Zaerini asked, eager to show herself as the leader of the group before Jaheira could take over the conversation.

"I can't believe you haven't guessed. Have you heard of the iron shortage? Well, Nashkel is in the thick of it. Our mine is all but shut down because the workers continually go missing, and what ore we do get is tainted somehow. I would send in the town guards, but we need them to protect our citizens from the bandits that raid our caravans. We need you to find out what is wrong in the mines southeast of town."

"I've heard about that", Rini said. "Have you no idea at all about what is causing the trouble?"

"None. Oh, I daresay the miners and farmers around here will provide you with all sorts of fanciful rumors, about demons and dragons and whatnot. But nobody really knows what is going on, and I had better warn you that other adventurers have tried to look into the situation already."

"Well? What did they say?" Imoen asked.

The Mayor looked grim. "Nothing", he said. "They never returned. What do you say? Do you think you can help us?"

Zaerini hesitated a moment. The whole thing sounded more than a little ominous. And yet…intriguing. She admitted to herself that she was curious to find out the truth. Unbidden, the images from her dream floated into her mind. _No way to go back_ , she thought. _Only forward._

"Very well", Zaerini said, feeling as if she was about to jump off a cliff. "I accept."

Berrun Ghastkill looked immensely relieved at that. "Thank you!" he exclaimed. "You will be the toast of the town if you can help. Now, do you have any next of kin you would like me to notify? Just in case…"

Having told the Mayor that no such precautions would be necessary the group continued on their way. They were just passing the town barracks when a strangely accented voice called out to them. Zaerini turned her head to see the largest man she had ever seen swiftly coming towards her. Strangely enough, it wasn't his enormous size that was the most worrying thing about him, or even the huge sword strapped across his back, but rather the fact that there was a small and fluffy hamster perched on top of his shoulder. 

_If that turns out to be another assassin, I'm going to scream out loud_ , Zaerini thought. _One per day is quite enough thank you_. 

The stranger looked even larger up closely, as huge as Gorion's murderer, Zaerini thought. She doubted this fellow had ever had a malicious thought in his life though. He was completely bald, his face was partially covered with a large purple tattoo, and his eyes were glowing with friendly enthusiasm that was just a little bit frightening. 

"I agree Boo, they look to be friendly", the man said, addressing the small hamster on his shoulder. The animal stared at Rini with unblinking black eyes, and she couldn't shake the feeling that she was being weighed and measured. Then the stranger turned to her, a wide smile on his face. "Greetings", he said, "we are Minsc and Boo. We have traveled far to explore this land, but now my charge Dynaheir has been taken from us. 'Twas gnolls, and once we have tracked them, I will beat sense into their heads until they release her. Accompany us and bards will sing the deeds of Minsc and Boo....and friends."

_I don't know about songs_ , Zaerini thought, _but I think you could at least inspire me to a minor verse or two, my large friend. I wonder where you come from_.

"Excuse me", Jaheira said. "But are you talking to a rodent?" The druid looked as if she wasn't quite sure what to make of all this.

_That is a rat!_ Softpaws said hungrily. The black cat was riding inside Rini's pack, her eyes and front paws sticking out as she watched Boo with obvious interest. _A nice, plump, juicy rat!_

_Don't you even think about it!_ Rini admonished her familiar. _Do you really want a man that large to be furious with you for eating his pet? And besides, it's a hamster_

"Boo is no mere rodent!" Minsc said, sounding a little affronted. "He is my faithful animal companion, the only miniature giant space hamster to walk the Realms! After my…my head wound I was lost for a while, until I bought Boo off a kindly little halfling merchant who told me of his unique lineage and noble ferociousness. And Boo has been fighting at my side ever since, as well as guiding my steps with his wise words."

"Oh", Jaheira said, sounding a little dazed at this explanation. "I suppose that explains everything."

"Y-yes", Khalid said. "But who is this D-Dynaheir that you speak of?"

"Dynaheir is Minsc's Witch", the huge man said, beaming proudly. "And a very good Witch she is too! One of the best in Rasheman. She almost never gets impatient with me, and she is doing very important work! And Minsc is doing important work too, by guarding her. It is my _dejemma_ , my way of getting into the proud Ice Dragon Berserker Lodge!" His face fell. "But now I have lost her, and she must be rescued before the evil gnolls do her harm. You will come to help, won't you?"

Zaerini thought about this for a moment. She had read a little of Rasheman. It was a distant and mysterious land to the east, wild and beautiful and inhabited by many strange creatures and spirits. The Witches of Rasheman, a local order of mages were apparently incredibly important people. Obviously a Rashemani Witch travelling so far from home would have to be a powerful magic user. Perhaps this Dynaheir would prove a valuable ally, assuming she was still alive. Then too, nobody deserved to be savaged by gnolls.

"All right, Minsc", she said. "We'll see what we can do to help you. I am Zaerini, this is Imoen, this is Khalid."

"What about the mines?" Jaheira insisted. "We said we would go soon."

"Oh, come on", Rini said. "We can't leave the poor woman to rot, can we? The mines aren't going anywhere." She turned to Minsc again. "And this is Jaheira, our resident grouch. You'll get used to her. Maybe."

"We r-really should try to help a damsel in d-distress", Khalid agreed. "I-it won't take long, surely."

"Yeah", Imoen agreed. "That's what heroes do, isn't it?"

"Oh, very well", Jaheira agreed. "I suppose you are right, even if I am afraid the unfortunate woman is likely to be dead by now."

"Dynaheir is not dead!" Minsc protested. "She is alive and well and held captive in the Gnoll Stronghold to the west of here! But now she will be free! Minsc and Boo and friends to the rescue! Tremble, evil dog-men! We are coming to make you housebroken!"   
_I really could have done without that mental image_ , Zaerini thought. "Right", she said. "No sense in delaying it. Let's head south out of town and then west. I remember the Mayor mentioned something about a bridge leading out of town…"

Meanwhile, Edwin Odesseiron was having a bad start to his day, a fact that was mostly his own fault. Now that his assigned target had arrived in town all that remained was getting close to her. He had discussed various strategies with his mentor the evening before. Eventually they had decided that he should make no attempt to hide his origin, since that was almost certainly going to fail anyway. Rather he would present himself as a Red Wizard travelling the Sword Coast for reasons of his own, and in need of armed companions to make his journey easier.

_Red Wizards are known for their secrecy anyway_ , Dekaras had said. _It is only natural for you to be closemouthed._

_Suppose she insists on knowing though?_

_Then you will just have to make something up. I suggest modifying your story according to your impression of her. Make the lie something that will be palatable to her. And do not overcomplicate it. The best lies are the ones that are almost entirely true. Oh, and do your best to 'accidentally’ impress her with your skills. Something nice and flashy._

_Surely you don't expect me to perform like a trained monkey?_ Edwin had asked, feeling indignant.

_I **expect** you to do whatever it takes to get yourself into that girl's good graces. You will stand on your head juggling eggs with your feet while singing the Thayvian National Anthem if that is her price for letting you into her group. You do want this mission to succeed, don't you?_

And so it was that Edwin was currently standing on the small wooden bridge leading out of Nashkel, waiting for an opportunity to make his move. He had glimpsed the half-elf and her group from a distance earlier and had overheard them mentioning the mines. This would be the logical route for them to take out of town. Now he just had to make his preparations. Something flashy…

Eventually he settled upon a conjuration spell. A small horde of xvarts materialized out of nowhere, little blue men with shrill and piping voices who eyed him warily. They would make the perfect ambush, and then he could 'accidentally' pass by, incinerating them with a lot of accompanying bangs and flashes. If that didn't impress Zaerini he didn't know what would. Waiting was getting a little slow though. And then the most dangerous thing that could possibly have happened to Edwin happened. He got bored. As always, this spelled disaster. 

_I wonder which spell would be best_ , Edwin mused. _Magic Missiles are good, but perhaps Agannazar's Scorcher is more graphic. Now how does that one go again…_

He hadn't intended to actually cast the spell. Not really. It was just that he was a little preoccupied with his upcoming delicate mission, and so he not only spoke the words as he had meant to but performed the appropriate hand gestures as well. A jet of flame shot out of his palm, causing him to spit out a surprised oath as it burnt one of the Xvarts to a crisp. And then he saw two dozen tiny blue faces turn towards him, their eyes glittering with bloodlust.

"Uh-Oh…" Edwin said. Then he ran, a screaming and yipping blue mass hot on his heels. No way to stop to cast another spell, they would be on him in moments. Frantically rushing across the bridge as fast as his legs could carry him, he wondered how things could have gone so wrong so quickly. He also cursed the idiot who had first decided that mages should wear long robes, a garment hideously unsuited for running.

Whoever first stated that the important, life-changing events in our lives tend to take us completely by surprise was certainly right. Rini was walking casually along, chatting with Minsc about Rasheman. It sure sounded like an interesting place, she thought. She was just about to ask him a question about the Witches as she turned the corner of a building and was instantly bowled over as somebody collided with her at exceedingly high speed, knocking her flat on her back. She found herself gasping for air like a fish on dry land, trying to determine which of the many sets of arms and legs were her own and which belonged to the jerk who had run into her. 

"Hey!" she protested. "Just what do you think you're doing, you moron!"

"Get off me, you stupid woman!" the stranger snarled, showing no intention of apologizing. "They are coming!"

Zaerini managed to stumble to her feet, just in time to be faced by a blue midget that tried to impale her kneecaps with the smallest sword she had ever seen. She swatted it aside with the flat of her own sword and was satisfied to see it hit the wall with a splat. 

"Who are you calling stupid, stupid?" she asked. "At least I watch where I'm going." Out of the corner of her eye she could see Khalid and Jaheira mowing the small blue men down like grass. The blood was blue too, she noted. Minsc roared with fury as one of the midgets bit his leg. He scraped it off, then stomped down heard, and there was nothing left but a wet spot on the ground. Then the lifted his large sword and started swinging it around like a lethal windmill. Imoen, who had been trying to get behind him to find a safe spot from which to shoot her arrows, had to leap backwards to avoid getting decapitated. 

"Much good that will do you if you don't shut up and let me do my work", the stranger retorted. He started muttering to himself, twitching his fingers. Then a faintly glowing golden cloud enveloped the screaming blue midgets, instantly sending them all into a deep sleep. "What are you all waiting for?" the man asked impatiently. "Kill them quickly, before they awake."

"You want us to kill them while they're all asleep?" Imoen asked, sounding a little horrified.

"No, I want us to sit around here telling each other amusing fairy tales until they all awake to bite our toes off. Of course, I want us to kill them while they're asleep. That **is** the purpose of a Sleep spell, you know."

Zaerini didn't much like this fellow's attitude, but she had to admit that he had a point. The remaining little monsters were quickly disposed of. Then she gave the inconsiderate stranger a hard look. He was wearing wizard robes of a deep, dark red, the exact color of fresh blood, and with a cowl that partially covered his face. She could tell that he was fairly young though, probably no more than a few years older than herself, even if that small beard was probably intended to make him look older. It didn't work very well. For somebody who had just insulted a group of armed strangers he looked remarkably confident, arrogant even. Dark eyes stared into Zaerini's own golden ones with intent interest, as if he were trying to decide whether to deign to speak to her. Then he took in the others, looking just a little bit alarmed at the sight of Minsc, though he hid it quickly enough.

"Well", he said, in a not unpleasantly accented voice. "It seems you are not entirely worthless in combat. I may have some use for you after all. I am the wizard Edwin Odesseiron and I require the services of a skilled group of mercenaries to assist me in my travels. However, it seems I will have to make do with you."

"Oh, really?" Rini asked, her voice heavy with sarcasm. "I feel so honored. Why should we be interested in joining up with you, your worship?" 

The wizard shrugged. "I am a conjurer of peerless skill", he said, with no trace of modesty. "You will find no better in these barbarian woods, and I doubt you will survive long without my magic to aid you."

"You!" Minsc roared. "You are one of the evil wizards. Boo knows you!" 

"If you don't stop pointing that rodent at me, Rashemani, you will soon find it stuffed down your gaping mouth", the wizard sneered. Minsc's armor creaked as his muscles bulged, and only the combined efforts of Khalid and Jaheira kept him from attacking Edwin outright.

"Will you stop provoking him!" Rini yelled.

"Watch out, Zaerini", Jaheira warned as she gave the wizard a wary look. "I recognize his garb and demeanor. He is a Red Wizard of Thay, assuredly not to be trusted. There will be much he has not told you."

"Maybe", Rini said. "But he wouldn't be alone in that. Right, Jaheira?" And she gave the druid a pointed look that eventually caused the other woman to look away.

_An interesting male, that one_ , Softpaws commented as she emerged from her hiding-place inside Zaerini's pack. _The ones that carry their tail very high are usually good fun, even if you have to scratch them a time or two to put them in their place._

_I'm sure I have no idea what you are talking about._

_Whatever you say, kitten._

"Have you made up your minds yet?" Edwin asked. "I have better things to do than to stand around here all day waiting for you to kickstart your braincells."

"Well, I guess we could use a wizard", Zaerini reluctantly agreed. "You can come. But it will be a trial period at first, to see how things work out. And I will be the one to give the orders, is that understood? Just nod if 'yes' is a too complicated word for you."

"It is agreed", Edwin said. "For now. Make sure not to let my acquiescence go to your head though. I will expect you to perform superbly now that you are in my service."

"What?! I'm in **your** …" Zaerini bit the words back. She had the feeling that strangling the infuriating wizard in the middle of the Nashkel main street would do nothing to make the local citizens impressed with her. She vowed to make him eat his words at the soonest possible occasion, however. Preferably raw.

_That's the way, kitten_ , Softpaws said. _Keep your claws sharp, then smack him to make him run squealing. He will be all the better for it, you'll see._

Once the group had passed the small bridge across the river Zaerini noticed that they had left the proper Nashkel town behind. There was a simple farmhouse here and there, surrounded by fields. Now and then she could see a human at a distance, but they never approached. Probably the recent bandit attacks made them wary of strangers. She was therefore a bit surprised to see a man come walking straight up to them, a wide and amiable smile on his face. He looked to be in his thirties, but there was something about the open and innocent look on his face that reminded her of a small child.

"Hi, I'm Noober", he said. "Nice place, huh?"

"Er, sure", Rini responded. "Do you live around here? Can you tell us anything about the area?"

The man just grinned.

"So, killed any monsters yet?" he asked, ignoring her question. "Ever been to Baldur's Gate? I've been to Baldur's Gate."

"I've killed some monsters, yes. But I've never been to Baldur's Gate. Is it nice?"

Noober stared vacantly at her for a minute. Just as she thought he was about to answer he stared at his own feet instead. "Ugh, I think I stepped in something", he said, sounding mournful. Behind her Rini could hear Imoen giggle.

"Oh, dear", the half-elf sighed. "We'll just be going now." Obviously, the man was the village idiot. She turned to leave. Unfortunately, Noober would have none of that. He grabbed her arm and clung to it adoringly.

"Everyone in town used to throw rocks at me and tell me I was annoying", he said in a solemn voice.

"Oh, I wonder why", Zaerini could hear Edwin mutter behind her. 

Noober was oblivious to the sarcasm. "What time is it?" he asked. "I haven't had a conversation this long, well... ever!"

"That's wonderful", Zaerini said, trying in vain to yank her arm free. "Now would you just let go?"

Noober paid no attention. He had caught sight of Minsc and stared at him with open admiration. "What's that big weapon for?" he asked, sounding admiring. 

"That is Minsc's trusty sword", the giant berserker proudly explained. "It is for the slashing and chopping of evil villains into tiny, tiny villain-bits. I would show you, but my new friend Zaerini says I mustn't hack the wizard's head off, at least not now. And Minsc always keeps his word, or he would not be Minsc."

"And we would all be immensely grateful if you were anybody else but a great, lumbering ape of an imbecile", Edwin sneered. "You could almost be related to this other, more common idiot. (In fact, it wouldn't surprise me if they are. Certainly, they both have that certain inbred look and the same sparkling wit.)" This last was uttered in an aside half-whisper, that Zaerini wasn't sure whether he intended for any ears but his own.

"I would not say such things if I were you", Jaheira warned. "Minsc may have promised to keep his peace, but I think he may forget himself if you provoke him too far."

"Oh, that's very fair and just, that is", the Red Wizard retorted. "I am supposed to just stand here and swallow the insults of that brainless dolt?" Whatever Jaheira's reply would have been she never got the chance to utter it. Noober chose that moment to clutch at Edwin's robe with his free arm, yanking the wizard closer as he stared with great fascination at the red cloth. This also had the added effect of banging the heads of the bard and the wizard together, something that annoyed them both immensely.

"Would you quit that!" Rini growled, trying her best to clamp down on her rapidly rising anger. She really had no wish to see this poor fool slaughtered like those assassins in Candlekeep. She could tell he meant no harm but if he kept this farce up much longer she didn't know if she would be able to control herself. _Mustn't…kill…poor innocent fool…_

"Unhand me, oaf!" Edwin ordered. "You would not wish to make me truly angry." He smirked as she said that, and probably would have looked very menacing if it wasn't for the fact that he, Noober and Zaerini were currently bundled together in something resembling a group hug.

"Those colors look pretty stoopid on you..." Noober said, still staring at the red robe.

"O-Oh dear", Zaerini heard Khalid whisper quietly. "I-I don't think he should have said that. I r-really don't think so."

"Take that back right now!" Edwin hissed.

Noober crossed his arms across his chest, shaking his head defiantly while sticking his tongue out. 

"That does it", the wizard said in a low voice, his dark eyes flashing with violent fury. This time he really did look and sound menacing, particularly once he reached for his spell components. "You're dead."

"What are you doing?" Rini yelled, clutching the wizard's arm as persistently as Noober had hers. "You can't just kill him like that!"

Edwin paused, looking genuinely puzzled. "Why not?" he asked. "Don't tell me he wasn't annoying you too."

"Well, yeah! But I usually don't kill people simply because they're annoying. It would have been different if he'd been a real threat."

"Fine", the wizard said, sounding rather cold. "If you don't appreciate my efforts you can just deal with him yourself. (That should teach her to be respectful to her betters.)"

"Fine! I will." Zaerini thought for a moment. Then an idea came to her, something that she had done when she was very young and wanted to temporarily get rid of the 'baby' Imoen. "Noober", she said, smiling at the man. "We're going to play a game."

"Oooh!" Noober said, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "Is it a fun game?"

"Of course it is. It's called 'Hide-And-Seek'. You will run away and hide as best as you can, and we will wait here. Then we will try to find you. I'm sure you're very good at hiding."

"I am!" Noober squealed. "IamIamIam! My Ma says I'm a great runner and hider." 

"Good. Now, off you go. And if you can stay hidden all day without us finding you, then you will have won the game. Good luck!"

Noober jumped up and down with excitement like an overeager puppy, and then scampered hurriedly off across the fields until he was completely out of sight.

"See?" Rini said, grinning triumphantly to Edwin. "It isn't always necessary to go haywire and lose your temper with people. Being calm and reasonable has its good points too." She was then startled to hear Jaheira snort loudly, Khalid chuckle in a half-choked voice and Imoen scream with hysterical laughter, pounding her hands on her knees. Minsc just watched them all, looking very puzzled.

"What?" Zaerini demanded. "What! Would somebody tell me just what the joke is here?"

"Oh, nothing, sis", Imoen said, tears streaming down her face. "Nothing whatsoever." 

"Pleased to meet you, Lady Pot", Edwin said triumphantly. "You may call me Lord Kettle, and it would appear that we are both roughly the same attractive shade of black, or possibly red in this case."

"Hmmpf", Zaerini said. "Seems everybody thinks they're jesters these days. Now perhaps we can get going before he decides to come back? Right, Minsc? You seem to be the one sensible person around here."

The large man didn't answer immediately, but cupped Boo closely to his ear for a moment or two. Then his face split into a huge smile. "Minsc understands now!" he bellowed with laughter. "Very funny joke, once Boo explained the funny part!" Then he too started laughing. In the nearby field a small herd of sheep bleated with terror and stampeded off like fluffy comets.

"Great", Rini muttered. "Just great. Didn't we have some gnolls to hunt or something?"

_Don't sulk kitten_ , Softpaws said, her mental voice sounding amused. _Cats don't like getting laughed at, but if they trip over their own paws, they have only themselves to blame._


	7. Wizard In The Hole

**In The Cards 7 – Wizard In The Hole**

_They say that Hell is being trapped inside a small room with your friends for eternity. I still say it must be worse to get trapped with one of your enemies. And I've been to Hell, along with my friends, if not for eternity. I should know._

_Excerpt from 'Ruminations Of A Master Bard'_

The walk through the woods eventually cleared up Zaerini's bad mood and almost made her forget the unfortunate encounter with Noober. It was a beautiful day, calm and sunny. The soft moss made her feel as if she were floating along on a cloud, her feet making hardly any sound at all. Birds chirped cheerfully in the trees. Yes, it was a fine day, a beautiful day. It even seemed as if her group of mismatched companions were starting to get along. There hadn't even been any need to mention what to do. She and Jaheira had exchanged a single look, and then taken it upon themselves to keep Minsc and Edwin separated as much as possible. That had managed to gain them a sort of uneasy truce.

Jaheira and Minsc had taken the lead, the large ranger showing the way towards the Gnoll fortress. For all his great size and ferociousness, he was also surprisingly gentle, and took great joy in observing and befriending any small woodland creatures they came across. Currently there were three rabbits, five squirrels, a badger and an uncountable number of mice trailing him.

_Actually, there are exactly forty-seven mice_ , Softpaws said as she emerged from the undergrowth. _No. Make that forty-six._ She licked her nose and mouth in a very satisfied manner. 

_Better not let Minsc see that_ , Rini warned.

_No problem. I don't think he can count that high anyway._

Zaerini sighed. Well, at least her familiar seemed to have decided to leave Boo alone for now. That was something. 

After Minsc and Jaheira came Imoen and Khalid. The human girl was chatting animatedly, apparently interrogating the half-elven warrior on the Big Wide World.

"I-I am s-s-sorry", Khalid said. "I r-really don't know that m-many thieves. You'll have to a-ask somebody else." He sounded sincerely apologetic, as if the ability to produce a thief out of his pocket was a grave fault on his part. 

"Awww…", Imoen sighed. "What a shame. I really need some training, you know. I mean, sure I've learned plenty on my own, but suppose I'm making lots of stupid mistakes and don't even know about it? I could be doing things the wrong way without even knowing."

"S-surely as long as it w-works…", Khalid said, giving the girl a reassuring pat on the arm.

"But that's not the point! I wanna look really cool and stylish too! A really good rogue should be able to hang upside down and disarm a deadly spike trap with one hand while juggling the spare lockpicks with the other! And pull off a snappy one-liner afterwards! And besides, it doesn't always work…"

Zaerini grinned to herself. Immy sure was going in for this. Well, that was probably a good thing. They should both take every opportunity to improve themselves if they were ever to be able to deal with Gorion's murderer, not to mention get Jaheira to take them seriously. And in fact, she had a perfect opportunity right now. She was making up the rear of the group together with Edwin. His obvious faults aside, the wizard at least seemed to know a thing or two about magic. But she had a feeling that appealing to his better nature and simply asking him to help her out would be a doomed effort. She gave him a long and considering look, her golden eyes narrowing.

"What?" Edwin said. "Why are you staring at me, girl? (Obviously, my prowess has dazzled her beyond words.)"

"Oh, I was just wondering…" Zaerini said in an innocent voice. _Girl?! Really! He's hardly older than I am_.

"Wondering what?"

"Just how good you are at magic anyway. I know a few spells myself. I bet I know more than you do."

"Ha! I am a Red Wizard of Thay, a master of magic, a wiz of a wizard, and a king of conjurers. (And also, an excellent cook.) You are an inexperienced little girl who's hardly out of her cradle. I accept your bet. What are the stakes?"

Rini flashed her teeth at the wizard. This was almost too easy, like stealing candy from a baby. Not that she'd steal candy from a baby, of course. On the other hand, surely a baby shouldn't be eating candy in the first place? "If I win, I'll give you a nice present." She twirled the Ring Of Wizardry between her fingers, letting it flash in the sunshine and then used some sleight of hand to pretend to make it disappear. Then she faked plucking it from behind the wizard's ear. Much to her satisfaction she saw Edwin's eyes light up with sudden greed at the sight of this treasure. It was the perfect bait. He wouldn't be paying attention to her words now. "But if you win you get the privilege of sharing your knowledge with me, helping me approve my spellcasting. Deal?" She spoke fast but casual, careful not to sound too excited. She wanted him to hear what he expected to hear, and not what she actually said. It worked beautifully.

"Yes, yes, yes!" Edwin said, still transfixed by the sight of the ring. "It's a deal! (At last! An artifact to make me rival the most powerful of mages!)

"Excellent", Rini said, tossing her red hair back. "Now, you show me yours and I'll show you mine."

"What?!" Edwin gasped, suddenly sounding more than a little alarmed.

"Your spellbook of course. Why? What did you think I meant?"

"Nothing", Edwin said, clearing his throat. He had gone rather red in the face and was steadfastly avoiding looking the bard in the eyes. "Nothing at all. Just prepare to be humiliated."

Once the comparison was done, it was obvious that Edwin was indeed the more accomplished of the pair when it came to number of spells known. "There!" he said triumphantly. "As I told you! Now hand me that ring."

"I don't think so", Zaerini said, and gifted him with a delighted grin. "You should have been paying closer attention before."

"What is this nonsense? I won!"

"So you did. And I said that if you won you would get to help me with my magic, and that I would give you the ring if I won. Well, it seems you won, Eddie. Congratulations. You are now my official instructor in the Arcane Arts."

"But…I…you…"

Rini's grin widened even more. He looked rather cute when confused. "You've just been conned. Smile and be graceful about it. And close your mouth, unless you're fond of eating flies." She tucked the ring back inside her pocket. "Do a good job and I may still let you have this", she said.

Edwin said a few words in Thayvian, words that Zaerini couldn't understand but had a feeling he never would have been encouraged to utter in his mother's presence. Still, she thought he'd keep his word. Maybe this day would turn out for the best after all. 

At this moment Imoen called out ahead. "Rini! Come quickly, you'd better take a look at this."

'This' turned out to be a small boy, maybe six or seven years old, with a round and solemn face, and hair almost as bright a red as Zaerini's own. He was sitting on a stump, huge tears trickling down his cheeks.

"Hello, ma'am!" he said in a piping voice as Zaerini approached. "Have you seen my Rufie?"

"Your…Rufie?" the half-elf asked, wondering what in the world a small child was doing on his own in the middle of nowhere. "Who's he? And who are you?"

"I'm Albert", the child said, wiping his face. "Rufie's my wittle doggie, and he's the sweetest doggie in all the worlds. But now he's lost and I can't find him. I've looked everywhere. Poor Rufie is all alone, and he's probably ever so scared right now. He's not used to being on his own."

"Does not that go for you too?" Jaheira asked. "Where are your parents? It is very dangerous for you to be out here by yourself."

"Parents?" Albert said. His intonation was odd, almost as if he was unfamiliar with the taste of the word. "Yes, I'm here with some rewatives, but they away for a moment and I'm lost. We are thinking of moving here someday, but I don't know my way awound yet. I can get home ok, but I just gotta get Rufie back. Please, could you help?"

"Minsc will help you, little one!" the berserker proclaimed. "Boo's keen hamster nose will sniff out your doggie for you, and Minsc and his friends will bring him back in the way of all true heroes."

_True heroes? Rescuing lost puppies?_ Zaerini chuckled silently to herself. _Oh well. I don't have the heart to turn the kid down either_. "Sure Albert", she said. "If we happen across your Rufie we'll bring him back here. But if not, you'll just have go home without him. Promise?"

"Promise!" the child said with a happy smile. "Oh, thank you so vewy much! I just know he'll be alright now! Poor Rufie isn't used to strange places an' people. You're sure to know him when you see him, cuz he's just the cutest little thing. Here, take this as well. His favorite chew-toy it is. He'll know you're a friend if you have it in your hands. Thank you so much again!" 

Zaerini looked at the item that the child had handed her. It was an old bone, and it had been chewed more than once. By now it was quite impossible to tell for certain from what creature it had come. Still, a nagging thought in the back of her head told her that there was something familiar about that shape. _Softpaws? What do you think of this?_

_Doesn't matter_ , the cat said. She sounded a little huffy. _You're just going to rescue that **dog** anyway. See if I care. Dogs are dangerous._

_Oh, come on. The poor little kid was crying!_

The black cat simply sniffed and walked off, her tail straight up, presenting Rini with a very clear view of her rear end. As a declaration of protest, it was simple but wonderfully eloquent.

"Come!" Minsc insisted. "We must hurry to find the poor little doggie!" He hurried off without waiting for a response, and the rest of the group almost had to run to keep up with him, pushing all thoughts of the bone out of Zaerini's mind for the moment.

They had walked for perhaps half an hour, heading into rockier terrain, when there was a low and terrible growl from the bushes. It didn't sound like a proper animal at all, but rather like some man-eating and sewer-dwelling monster, and one in an extremely bad mood at that. Then the branches shook and cracked, and a pair of glowing red eyes became visible.

"Watch out!" Rini hissed. Then she felt her lower jaw drop as the growl came to a sudden halt and its originator trotted out to meet her. It was a small dog, about level with her own knees, spotted black and white. One of its ears was a little lopsided, giving it a cute and mischievous look. Its fur was short but looked soft, and a long pink tongue lolled out of its mouth in a doggy smile. Zaerini couldn't see how she had ever thought its eyes were red either. They were the normal brown of any small dog, bright and intelligent. The dog sat on its haunches and begged. "Er…" the half-elf said. "You would be Rufie, I presume?" The dog yipped. "Oh. Good. Here, I believe this is yours." The dog eagerly watched the old bone. "Fine. Let's go then. Albert is waiting for you." Rufie yipped again and cheerfully started following her.

"Well, that was easy", Zaerini said, feeling a little embarrassed. 

"Yes", Jaheira said, frowning. "A little too easy. There is something very odd about that dog. It looks and sounds right, but I can feel something strange about it. I do not know what…" She was interrupted by the sound of a loud and arrogant female voice.   
"Travelers from the north, halt! You trespass quite deep into Amnish territory. Perhaps you have come to spy upon our supposed troop buildup. It's quite funny, the stupid notions you northern barabarians can get stuck in your heads." This statement came from a haughty looking female warrior. She was wearing a beautiful leather armor that almost glowed in the sunlight, and the scabbard of her sword was decorated in a way that screamed of money and lack of taste. Her two male companions seemed to be twins, they glared at Zaerini and her companions with identical cold blue eyes, and they both had their bows drawn and ready.

"Who are you, and what do you want?" Zaerini asked, making her own voice equally disdainful. She had no intention of letting this woman walk all over her. "Oh, and by the way… It's called 'barbarians'. Just thought I'd let you know, you stupid bimbo. Feel free to ask me if there are any other long words you have difficulties with."

The woman looked as if she had bit a lemon. "I am Sendai, of the noble merchant house of Argrims, foremost family in Amn. Delgod, Alexander and I have come out here to hunt game. Though perhaps you would make for better sport. I assume you would have no problem with this?"

Zaerini felt that familiar heat rising in her blood, bringing it close to boiling. _As if it wasn't enough with all those assassins who want to kill me for some unknown reason! Now I have to deal with random psychos as well?_ Noober had been one thing. But this woman was something else entirely.

"And perhaps some even better 'sport' would be for me to gut you like the pig you are and wear your entrails for a necklace?" she said in a low and deadly voice. She was baring her teeth in what bore only the faintest resemblance to a smile. "Please feel free to discuss this option with your two tame idiots. I can wait." Behind her she could hear Edwin whisper something that sounded a bit like 'Not a bad one at all.'

"Why, it seems that we have stumbled upon some berserkers!" Sendai cried out. "I had suspected as much when I caught your scent a few moments ago, but your behavior clinches it. Delgod! Alexander! Let us make short work of these peasants." She drew her sword and charged towards Zaerini, while the twins set to work with their bows.

Rini wasted no time in her turn. She chanted a spell as quickly as she could, sending an intensely glowing magical missile at the other woman. Sendai managed to raise her arms just in time to shield her face, but she still cried out with pain and paused for a moment. However, at that same moment Zaerini felt a sharp pain in her right thigh and stumbled to her knees. An arrow was protruding from her leg. She hurriedly yanked it out and then swore as she started bleeding profusely. She desperately pressed both her hands to her thigh to try to stop the flow. A wound like that could kill in minutes, she knew that much. Behind her she could vaguely hear Edwin cast a spell of his own, and then Minsc, Jaheira and Khalid were rushing past her, weapons drawn. Funny. They all seemed to move like lightning. Imoen was raining down arrows on Sendai, reaching for a new one almost before the previous one had left her bow. Sendai screamed as she was slain. And then, before the adventurers had the time to turn to the twin archers, there was a small black-and-white blur and a hideous roar. When it had passed the two men were both lying on the ground, dead. Their throats had been torn out and Rufie was standing on top of Delgod's chest, wagging his tail.

It was then that something happened to Zaerini, almost as if the sight of the violent deaths were a catalyst to trigger a reaction within her soul. She pressed her hands even tighter to her bleeding wound and willed the blood to stop flowing. Something passed through her, a brief and burning sensation that was painful and pleasant at the same time. 

"Move aside, fools!" she heard Jaheira order the others. "Let me get to the girl before she bleeds to death!" Then the druid was at her side, quickly muttering a spell of a healing. There was another wave of warmth, this one soothing like a hot bath and entirely without that strange aftermath of anguish. Zaerini took her hands away. The arrow was lying on the ground at her side and the pain in her leg was gone. Her pants were drenched with blood, but her skin was once again unbroken. And she knew, somehow, she knew, that this healing hadn't been performed by Jaheira alone. She met the green eyes of the druid and saw that the other woman had recognized this as well. There was realization in those eyes, as well as…fear? No. Surely that couldn't be. 

_What is happening to me?_ The unspoken question received no answer, as Jaheira's mouth simply firmed a little more before she stood. "There", the druid said. "Perhaps next time you will remember to leave the arrow in until I have the time to attend to it, and refrain from tearing up any major blood vessels."

Zaerini didn't answer. Whatever it was that Jaheira knew, whatever secret she was keeping, she herself did not intend to let it be kept from her indefinitely.

"I think we should get back to Albert", she said. "I'm sure he'll be very happy to have Rufie back. Though I fail to see why he was worried about that dog's safety."

Albert was indeed very happy when the weary adventurers returned to him, Rufie running eagerly behind them. "RUFIE!!" he cried out. "Who's a fuzzy Rufie? Whoooooo's a fuzzy little guy?" He hugged the small dog. Then he smiled. "Thank you just ever so much! I better take this lost little puppy home right away. Here, take this. It's another of his chew things, but we can get more where we're going. Thanks again." 

Albert tossed Rini another bone. She just had time to recognize the shape of it and drop it with a small sound of revulsion as she knew it for what it truly was, a human rib. Then the boy changed. He swelled and expanded, the innocent mask falling away to reveal something else entirely. Within seconds a creature twice as tall as Minsc faced Zaerini and her friends. It had horns. It had fangs. It had three eyes, a forked black tongue and bright red skin. As for Rufie, the small dog had turned into something resembling a wolf, if there ever was a wolf the size of a large horse, and with eyes glowing like a burning furnace. He gave Zaerini another doggy grin, this time displaying fangs as long as her arms, and then followed his young master into a magical portal that had suddenly turned up out of nowhere. It winked out behind them, leaving the surprised adventurers behind.

_See?_ Softpaws sounded very smug. _Didn't I tell you dogs are dangerous?_

For a few moments there was only a stunned silence. Then Edwin found his voice again. "Well", he said. "That was certainly interesting. Tell me, Zaerini, does this sort of thing happen to you often? Or have I just joined you on a particularly lucky day?"

_Three hours later…_

"WHAT?!" Edwin almost screamed. "You brought us into this wilderness, this supposedly desolated forest infested with Amnian nobles, little lost demons, moronic woodcutters and hungry gnolls, made us walk for miles and want us to sleep on the ground. And now you tell me that I have been subjected to all of this for the purpose of rescuing a Rashemani Witch?! Are you quite insane? (And my feet are killing me!)" 

"Keep your voice down!" Zaerini shouted with the full force of her lungs. "Do you want every gnoll in the neighborhood to hear you? And nobody forced you to come, you know. In fact, you're perfectly welcome to leave right now if that's what you want!"

"Oh, that is rich! Leave here, in the middle of nowhere? How am I supposed to get back?"

"How should I know? On your feet I expect, like everybody else. Or is that too humbling for Your Highness?"

"That is not what I meant! There could be all sorts of monsters out here."

"So? Shouldn't be a problem for somebody who's been boasting about how he's such a powerful wizard ever since we left Nashkel. Tell me, did you make up all those fanciful tales yourself, or did you hire somebody to do it for you?"

Edwin was actually trembling with rage by now, and his face was contorted into an angry snarl. "I am too a powerful wizard", he hissed. "More powerful than any you've ever met, I'm sure."

Zaerini sniffed disdainfully. By now she was easily as furious as the wizard. "Powerful? You? You couldn't magic yourself out of a wet paper bag if your life depended on it."

"Yes I could! (And if I must spend much more time talking to this woman it will have to be a vomit bag.) I'll show you just what I'm capable of. Go off and rescue the Witch if you must. If you want me, I'll be back in Nashkel." Edwin turned on his heels and stalked off. It would have been a highly dramatic exit with his red robes grandly flowing behind him if they hadn't caught on a thorny twig just then. Edwin cursed and yanked them loose with a loud ripping sound, producing a long tear. The Red Wizard pointed a finger at the bush and spoke a few words, causing it to burst into flames. When nothing remained of it except for a black and charred husk he wiped his hands with a satisfied smile and walked away.

"You'll be back before tomorrow morning!" Rini yelled after his retreating back.

"No, I won't", Edwin said without slowing or turning around. "Not even a horde of rabid monkeys could force me back into your odious presence."

"That's what you think, you puffed-up egomaniac!"

"That's what I know, you red-headed little brat!"

"Smug, supercilious snake!"

"Annoying, envious amateur!"

"Big-headed buffoon!"

"Twittering twerp!"

"Blockhead!"

"Airhead!"

"Oh yeah?" Zaerini screamed after the now distant figure of the wizard. "It's not me walking around with a tear in my clothes making me look like some courtesan trying to display as much leg as possible to her customers!"

The half-elf couldn't quite catch Edwin's reply, but she did see him hurriedly pull his torn robe together. Pity. She'd sort of enjoyed the view for a moment. Then the wizard disappeared behind some trees and was gone.

"Are you quite finished?" Jaheira asked. "Or do you suppose there are some monsters around that haven't already been alerted to our presence?"

"He started it", Rini muttered.

"And you kept on with it. Really, you should try to be a little more mature."

"Why?" Zaerini said. "That sounds extremely dull."

Imoen sighed. "Shame that he left", she said. "He was sort of fun, you know. And I never thought I'd meet anybody who knew as many insults as you do, sis."

Zaerini grinned, her yellow eyes sparkling with sudden mirth. "Don't you worry", she said. "He'll be back."

"How can you be so sure?"

Zaerini pointed at the packs lying on the ground where the camp had been set up for the night. "Because", she said, "he just walked off without his spellbook. Trust me. He'll be back."

The sky was rapidly darkening now. Edwin's temper began to cool down in time with the air and it came to him that perhaps walking off on his own wasn't so much a proud gesture of defiance as a random act of rampaging bad judgement. After all, he had only recently spent a lot of time and effort on worming his way into Zaerini's party. Walking out on her would seem to negate all of that without gaining him anything whatsoever in return. It was just that he had been so furious with the girl that he had temporarily managed to forget all about the Plan. The wizard's steps slowed to an almost crawl as the consequences of his actions came crashing home. Zaerini would never accept him back now! He had just gone and destroyed the entire mission in a fit of temper! Why, oh why couldn't he be more calm and collected? Edwin's stomach felt as if it was violently twisting itself into a knot and he blanched. He could imagine his teacher's likely reaction to this little escapade. How could Edwin possibly explain this?

_Teacher Dekaras, I threw a tantrum and walked away from the target. Where? Oh, somewhere in the middle of the woods, I'm not really sure. Where she is now? No idea whatsoever. Oh, and here's the part you'll really love. Since I'm not there to influence her she will likely take up with a Rashemani Witch and the Wychlaran will get their way with her._

No. That wouldn't do at all. Perhaps if it was dressed up a little?

_Teacher Dekaras, I am sorry to say that while I was able to make contact I was unable to maintain it, due to that half-elf being the most aggravating woman on the face of Toril. So, I simply tossed all pretense of professionalism out the window and dropped the assignment like a newborn foal, destroying my entire career before it even had a chance to begin. If I was previously on a low rung on the career ladder I have now dropped through the basement and am rapidly heading towards the core of the planet. To sum things up, my life isn't worth a dead cockroach. Please kill me quickly._

Oh, of course his mentor wouldn't actually kill him. Death might have been preferable to the sarcastic comments certain to come, however. 

"Perhaps I can just run away", Edwin muttered to himself. "Far, far away into the woods. I could become a…a…a lumberjack or something." Then he winced as he remembered the two moronic lumberjacks the party had slain as they tried to cut down the tree of a dryad. The treespirit hadn't paid very much, but Jaheira had insisted on helping her anyway. The two men had been very firmly discouraged from cutting down that particular tree. No, perhaps not a lumberjack after all. Then Edwin's stomach growled. "Oh, wonderful", he said. "Now I'm hungry too. I could murder for a good Thayvian dinner right now." 

"Grrrr…" The voice that brought Edwin forcefully out of his reverie was a low growl, but there were obvious words as well. "Hungrrrry… Murrrderrrr… Dinnerrrrrr…" It was followed by many loud roars of barking laughter. Edwin froze in his tracks. He had a feeling he knew what had made those sounds. A group of a dozen large gnolls stepped out from the trees. They reminded him a little of very large dogs. Very large brown dogs with dirty yellow manes, walking on two legs, and heavily armed. One of them lifted its leg against a tree, leaning on a nasty-looking halberd as it took care of business. 

"Morrrre food forrrr storrrage", a second gnoll growled. This one was even larger, with reddish fur, and wore some sort of badge of rank. "Smarrrt food like the otherrrr. Scrrream nicely, not like dumb deerrrr and rrrrabbits. Good forrr feast! You! Fido! Fetch!"

Edwin just had time to hear a rustling sound behind him before a heavy fist slammed down on top of his head and everything went black. His last thought before he slipped into unconsciousness was that obviously he wasn't the only one ready to murder for a Thayvian dinner.

"It's getting pretty late, isn't it?" Zaerini asked, trying not to sound too concerned. The half-elf was sitting on an overturned log, staring into the campfire. She had been trying to study her spells but found herself quite unable to concentrate. Then she had tried to work on a song she was writing, but instead she found herself doodling stars, flowers and hearts all over the scroll. By now it was too dark to write anyway, and still Edwin hadn't returned. 

"You are biting your nails again", Jaheira said. 

"No, I'm not!", Rini guiltily said and yanked her hand away from her mouth. "Well, not much."

"I'm s-sure that Edwin will b-b-be all right", Khalid said and gave her a comforting pat on the shoulder. "D-don't worry too m-much."

"Who? Me? Worry?" Rini tried to give a carefree laugh. It sounded a little hollow to her ears. "I'm not worried. Not at all. After all, if he wants to walk out and make a fool of himself that's hardly my fault, now is it?" She nervously tapped her fingers against her knee. _But it's getting really late_ , she thought. _Suppose something bad has happened to him? And he wouldn't have run off on his own if we hadn't been arguing. There…there could be dragons and vampires and liches in this forest for all I know! They could be killing him even now! It's all my fault!_

"Of course it is not your fault!" Jaheira said, shaking her head to make her brown hair glitter like gold in the firelight. "He is an adult after all, capable of making his own decisions. How much trouble could he get himself into between here and Nashkel?" Here she paused and met Zaerini's eyes. Then she frowned, obviously remembering that this was Edwin she was speaking about.

"Minsc thinks the Red Wizard is trouble walking on two legs", the large ranger said and cocked his head to the side, looking puzzled. "But if Zaerini wants him to be found, then Minsc and Boo will help."

"Yes!" Rini hurriedly got to her feet. "Yes, thank you Minsc. I really think we ought to go look for him, just to make sure nothing's happened to him." Then her face fell: "Except I don't know where to start looking, and it's too dark to see anything. Sure, I have darksight, but that won't help until we're close enough to see him."

Minsc beamed at her and tapped his nose with a finger. "Fear not, little singer!" he proudly stated. "Minsc can track a white fox through a Rashemani snowstorm. The keen hamster nose of Boo will help him, and he will find the pesky wizard." Boo squeaked his agreement. 

"Oh, thank you!" Rini exclaimed and gave the huge man a hug. "Thank you so much!" Then she cleared her throat. "Er…no need to let Edwin in on the fact that I was worried about him, though. I wouldn't want him to get an even bigger head."

"If so, Minsc will be happy to cut it down to proper size."

"I'm sure you would", Rini said with a grin as she strapped her sword back on and hurriedly gathered up her other belongings. Then she gave her other friends an impatient look. "Well? What are we waiting for? We're off to fetch the wizard!"

When Edwin awoke, he didn't feel hungry anymore. Of course, violent nausea wasn't much better. He seemed to be lying on the ground. It was cold, wet and bumpy. And one of the biggest bumps in the neighborhood was protruding from the back of his aching skull. His head felt as if it had been split in two. Gingerly he touched the huge swelling and winced as a white-hot lance of pain pierced his brain. His fingers came away wet with blood. Not good. Well, at least he was alive. Just barely. 

"I see thou hast awakened", a female voice said. "Verily, thou art far from thy evil kin, wizard. If thou didst come here to slay me thou hast fallen into thine own trap. These beasts will spare neither of us." Edwin groaned. He had a feeling he knew who that voice belonged to. _That's it_ , he thought. _I guess I was wrong after all. I must have died, and this is Hell_. Then he managed to get into a seated position and saw that he was all too right about his companion's identity. He was at the bottom of some sort of pit, a deep hole dug in the ground. The walls were steep and slippery, and looked quite impossible to climb. He could just about make out the night sky above him, but apart from that he could see nothing of what lay above. On the opposite side of the hole stood a small and dark-skinned woman, wearing a purple mage robe. Though dirty and bedraggled she still somehow managed to look serene and superior. Staggering to his feet Edwin did his best to match her arrogant demeanor. 

"My 'kin' is none of your business, witch", he sneered. "And not everything is about you. My reasons for travelling the Sword Coast are my own." He leaned against the wall to keep steady and fought stubbornly against the rising nausea. "But I know of you. You and your idiot ranger."

"Thou hast seen Minsc?" The witch gave him a hard look. "If thou hast caused him harm thou shalt be forced to regret thy misdeeds as the fires of righteousness melt the flesh off thine vile bones. So swears Dynaheir of Rasheman."

"Save me the preaching", Edwin retorted. "My stomach is roiling enough as it is. I know all about your kind, so you can discontinue the goody-goody act. It won't impress me!" He was pleased to see that the woman was wearing no bags of spell components. The gnolls must have taken them. His own were still hanging from his belt, but he thought the headache would likely keep him from summoning his magic for some time yet. He had no particular wish to be at the tender mercy of one of the Witches, so the fact that his enemy was equally disarmed was a great relief. 

"Thou wilt cease thy rudeness at once!" The witch drew herself up to her full height, what little there was of it, and pointed a finger imperiously at Edwin. She then looked highly indignant as the wizard laughed her in the face.

"My, you really are out of touch with reality", he said in a slow drawl designed to drive the woman out of her mind. "So sorry to disappoint you, but this isn't Rasheman. Around here there's nobody to enforce the death penalty for disobeying a Witch. That must be almost enough to make you soil yourself with frustration."

"I would never do such a thing", Dynaheir almost screamed. She gripped the front of Edwin's robe and started shaking him violently. "And what dost thou know of our Law anyway, Thayvian?" Then she screamed for real as Edwin vomited noisily and profusely all over the front of her robe, and yes, even into it. 

_Serves her right for trying to bully a sick man_ , Edwin thought with some triumph. "More than I care to, Witch", he said with a cold smirk. "And that is what I think of it!" He pointed at Dynaheir's once pretty purple robe, now soiled beyond recovery, and then spat on the ground. He was feeling a little better already. Now if only he could get out of here before the gnolls decided to come for a midnight snack…

Zaerini was happy to find that Minsc hadn't been boasting about his tracking abilities. He picked up Edwin's trail without difficulty and led the party deeper into the woods. After some time, he paused to examine the ground. "Gnolls!" he bellowed. "Many gnolls came here. Their evil foulness is everywhere!"

"So it seems", Jaheira muttered. "I just stepped in some of it."

"What of Edwin?" Zaerini asked anxiously. 

Minsc scratched his head briefly. "His trail ends here. Minsc finds it very strange. The wizard can't fly." Then Boo squeaked briefly and Minsc's face lit up. "Oh! I understand now. Thank you, Boo."

"What did he say?" Rini asked and then mentally wanted to hit herself for even asking such a question. Apparently Minsc's - minscness - was contagious.

"The gnolls must have taken the wizard with them", Minsc said, pleased to be able to answer the question. "Like with poor Dynaheir."

Zaerini suddenly felt very cold. "W-what do you mean?" she asked. The entire world went gray and lifeless around her. Then she felt Jaheira at her side, steadying her, and realized that she had almost fainted.

"There may be a possibility that he is still alive", the druid said in a quiet voice. "After all, they did not kill him on the spot. They will have taken him with them to save for later, most likely into the fortress Minsc mentioned to us before."

"Save for later? What…"

"To eat", Jaheira clarified. "That is what they do to their prisoners. We must hurry if we are to find them in time."

"Y-yes", Rini said, still feeling as if the ground was rolling beneath her feet. "We must." She was a bit surprised to see how kindly Jaheira looked at her.

"I am pleased to see you care so much about the fate of another, even if it is that annoying wizard", the druid said. "It…reassures me about our future."

"Like I said", Rini responded automatically. "Nobody deserves to get eaten by gnolls. That includes Edwin. And I can't help but feel partially responsible. After all, he wouldn't have been out here on his own if we hadn't quarreled."

_Sure kitten_ , Softpaws said. _Put it that way if you want to._ The black cat rubbed herself reassuringly against the legs of her person, almost causing Rini to trip over her. Still, it was a very calming sensation. She picked the cat up and buried her nose in the soft fur, carefully stroking it.

_What do you mean?_

Softpaws just purred. _If you can't figure it out, I'm certainly not going to tell you_ , she said. _What do I look like? A book of free hints?_

"Right", Rini said, a highly determined look on her face. "Let's go kick some gnoll butt, then."

"Yes!" Minsc cheered. "You know how to be a true hero! Butt-kicking is the first step, a hamster is the second."

"That won't be necessary", Zaerini said in a dry voice. "I already have a cat, after all."

"Minsc forgot! Onward then, heroes, space-hamsters and cute little kitties!" The ranger, true to his word, stormed off into the bushes, heading due west. Khalid and Jaheira followed him. 

"Don't worry, Rini", Imoen said. Her pink clothing made her glow in the darkness even without the use of elven eyes. "We'll get him back, safe and sound. You'll see. I mean, it's like a story. Knights in shining armor rushing off to a dark fortress to rescue an imprisoned princess." She paused as she thought about this. "Well, not that Edwin's much of a princess, but you get the general idea. We're bound to win."

"I hope so", Zaerini mumbled. "It's just…not all the stories and songs I know have happy endings."

"The ones you tell me do."

"Yes, Immy. I know. I love you just the way you are, you know. I hope you'll never have to hear the other ones." She hugged her friend briefly and then set off after the rest of her companions.

The sun was slowly starting to crawl over the horizon when they reached the gnoll fortress, illuminating the landscape with a pale gray light. The ground was rocky and barren here, dry grass and small twisted bushes the only plants in sight. The forest receded far beneath the adventurers as they carefully climbed a narrow path along the steep side of the unwelcoming mountains. The wind howled like a pack of angry wolves, constantly threatening to throw them off the edge of the cliff. Eventually they reached a narrow rope bridge leading across a wide chasm. On the other side Zaerini could see the path leading even higher, almost as if it were intending to reach the sky. And there, high above, she could just glimpse the dark walls of a forbidding castle. There was no sight of any gnolls. 

"Oh my", Zaerini could hear Imoen whisper behind her.

"Yes…" Zaerini agreed as she craned her neck backwards to take in the imposing sight. Then she pulled herself together. "All right", she said. "There are probably about a gadzillion gnolls inside. So, let's make this a quiet, covert operation, shall we? We go in quietly, find Edwin and Dynaheir, and then get out quickly. And quietly. Let’s not forget quietly."

Imoen, Jaheira and Khalid nodded their agreement.

"Yes", Minsc said. "Minsc understands! Quickly, quietly and kicking many evil gnoll butts, letting evil tremble at the sound of our mighty battlecries."

Rini sighed. "Something like that, yes", she said.


	8. Bridge of Certain Doom

**In The Cards 8 – Bridge of Certain Doom**

_Now, a warrior's first approach to battle may be to rush in waving a sword, basically chopping things to pieces. And that's great at times. But a rogue should learn to think sideways, backwards, upside-down and in circles. Your brain is your best friend. Learn to use it. And besides, the clever moves are usually much more fun._

_Excerpt from 'Ruminations Of A Master Bard'_

Walking across a narrow rope-bridge across a deep chasm turned out to be a highly unpleasant experience. The bridge swung from side to side as the adventurers carefully made their way across it, and the violent gusts of wind did not make the crossing any easier. Rini had never been afraid of heights, but after making the mistake of looking down she was all too aware of her own mortality. She was glad to see the other side. However, before she could set foot on solid ground two large shapes came towards her. They were ogres, and they looked armed and dangerous.

"Stop", the first ogre said in a gravelly voice. "You go nowhere! This our bridge, you pay to walk it!"

"Yeah", the second one chimed in, "you pay. . . .200 for all heads, or lose heads!" He shook the bridge to drive his point home, and the adventurers were forced to cling on for dear life. Zaerini decided that getting off this bridge would have to be her first priority. They could deal with the ogres later.

"200 gold is a little steep, don't you think? I mean, do I look like I have that kind of coin in abundance?" She made certain to use her most charming voice, hoping that the ogres would overlook the magical leather armor that Jaheira had taken from Sendai, as well as the lightly enchanted sword that had been Khalid's gain from that same battle. The two ogres gave each other confused looks. Then one of them made up his mind.

"O.K. maybe 200 gold too much. Maybe you pay.......100 gold!"

"Yeah", said the second one, the one that looked even more stupid than the first. "100 gold for all heads or lose heads! Pretty good deal!" He seemed to have some sort of fixation on heads. Rini was sure she didn't want to know why.

"That does sound a little more reasonable", she said. Then she held up a small bag of gold and shook it to make it clink. "Tell you what. You let us come across and you can have this bag."

_I can't believe you're doing this_ , Softpaws said. 

_Just wait and see. I have a plan._

The two ogres seemed pleased enough with the offer. 

"You got smart head, so you keep head!"

"Yeah! Now move, smart head, before we charge for standing!" They moved aside to let Zaerini and her companions cross.

"You do realize that they will attack us to get the rest of our money as soon as we are across", Jaheira murmured.

"Of course," Rini whispered. "But at least then we will be on even ground. Now hush before they hear us." Once she and the others were all on solid ground once more Zaerini turned to the ogres. "Thank you, gentlemen", she said. "A pleasure doing business with you. And now for your payment." She took the moneybag and emptied its contents into another, larger one, then tossed the ogres the now empty bag. "There you go", Rini said with a pleased smirk. "Just as I promised, you can now have this bag. I said nothing about the money inside the bag, mind you." 

The ogres eyed her stupidly for a moment before they realized they had been tricked. Then they both roared with sudden fury and charged. The first one went down under a hail of arrows from Zaerini and Imoen. The second promptly lost his head to a mighty swing from Minsc's powerful sword. It bounced neatly along the ground to come to a stop in front of Rini's feet.

"Ooops", Imoen said. "Looks like you lost your head, big fella!" Then she wrinkled her nose with some disgust as she saw her friend pick the still staring head up and stuff it into her pack after wrapping it inside a spare cloak. "What are you doing, Rini?"

"Just thought I'd bring it back to Nashkel", the half-elf said a little defensively. "It should impress the locals with how great heroes we are. Gain us some goodwill. Maybe even a discount at the store." Her eyes lit up. "Besides, I thought I could have it stuffed and mount it on the wall. Assuming I ever settle down long enough in one place to get a wall, but you see what I mean."

"Oh sure", Imoen said with a smile of understanding. "That sounds great! How about a Red Dragon beside the fireplace?"

"Yes! Perfect! And maybe a demon or two, nothing tasteless mind you…" Behind her Zaerini heard Jaheira groan something that sounded like 'I'm getting too old for this'. She shrugged. Why the druid should be so bothered by the concept of interior decorating was quite beyond her. 

"H-how about t-the gnolls", Khalid asked.

"Oh, I don't think they'd fit in with the furniture", Rini said, still caught up in the idea of her imaginary future home.

"I think he meant the gnolls around here", Jaheira said in an icy voice. "The ones we were supposed to be killing, in case you have forgotten."

"Yes", Minsc agreed. "Boo is getting squirrelly. He needs his hamster exercises, and there is no wheel for him to run in. We must find glorious battle for him before he starts nibbling Minsc's ear with impatience."

"Oh", Rini said. "Yes. Right." She looked ahead. The path split in two here, one branch leading upwards towards the fortress, the other down a gentle slope. "Let's take the higher path", she said. "If we can't find the mages up there, we'll come back and search the rest of the area." 

The path wound steadily upwards, higher and higher. A small group of gnolls ambushed the party at one point, but there were only four of them and they were easily disposed of. Taking Jaheira's advice the party took the time to hide the bodies behind some rocks. There was no sense in letting them be found by their friends. Eventually the adventurers climbed a steep staircase to find themselves outside the Gnoll Fortress, in the main courtyard. There were no guards and no drawbridge. Just the wind, still howling in a cold voice. The walls of the fortress were equally cold, high and impenetrable with narrow windows like empty and blind eyes. From far away there were barking voices, the voices of gnolls.

"I don't like this place", Imoen said with a shudder. "Let's just get what we came for and get out quickly, OK?"

"Y-yes", Khalid said. "W-we should hurry."

"I just wish I knew what the gnolls are up to before we go rushing blindly in here", Zaerini said and pulled a hand through her red hair with some frustration. "I don't want us to get surrounded."

"Hey, I can handle that", Imoen said with a proud grin. "I'm a rogue, remember? As stealthy as a cat!"

_Not that I've ever heard of a pink cat_ , Softpaws said, sounding amused.

"Are you sure?" Rini gave her friend a worried look. 

"Sure I'm sure! They'll never see me coming." Before anybody could utter any protest, the human girl slipped away quietly in the shadows, keeping close to the walls. Imoen moved carefully, cautious of making noise. Mostly she succeeded, but now and then she couldn't avoid displacing a small rock. _I really wish I could meet some nice thief to help me get better at this_ , she thought. _There have to be lots of tricks I don't know about. Now where could the gnolls be?_ She soon found out. As she peeked around another corner, she saw what could only be described as a horde. There were probably several dozens of gnolls sitting around on the ground, talking among themselves in their growling voices. There had been a brief rain-shower an hour earlier and the smell of wet dog was stunning. 

The gnolls were seated around what seemed to be a pit in the ground, and they were arguing, getting louder and louder by the minute. "I still say we frrrry them", one of the gnolls said and licked his lips.

"No, no, no" another protested. "Boiling is much tastierrrr…."

"Moderrrrn fancies", growled a very old gnoll, whose fur was an even grey. "Rrrraw meat was good enough in my day and it ought to be good enough forrrr you pups…"

"You arrre all fools", a third gnoll said. "Charrrrbrrrroiling is the only way to go."

From within the pit Imoen could clearly hear Edwin's voice. "Then there is baking, pudding, and of course the classical alternative of a tasty Wizard Soup. You really should take your time in deciding this, you know. It cannot be every day you get an opportunity to eat a real wizard, you don't want to waste it. (Yes, do take your time. Preferably until you all die of old age. Is it seven gnoll years to one human year, I wonder?)" Obviously, he was trying to confuse the gnolls and distract them from eating him. So far it seemed to be working.

"How about a nice salad?" This second voice was female, cultured and aloof. "Not all of us are vulgar meat eaters. Renounce the ways of the flesh and thou wilt all be happier by far."

The gnolls just growled with disgust at this.

"Will you shut up?" Edwin hissed. "You're not helping here. (Not that I would expect a Witch to be anything but a nuisance.)" He turned to the gnolls again. "Please pay no attention to her" he said. "She is simply upset because I suggested you use her for starters. Now, on to the option of paté…" 

Imoen had heard enough. She turned to head back. Unfortunately, her left foot chose that moment to slip and she stubbed her big toe painfully on the ground. "OW!" Imoen yelled. Then she looked up so see the entire pack of gnolls staring her, their argument completely forgotten. "Oops…", Imoen said and started backing slowly away. "Er…I'm sure you're all wondering what I'm doing here. Er…I'm making a collection for the Orphan Home Of Lost Puppies and…what's that!" She pointed dramatically at a spot behind the gnolls, then turned and ran as they looked. _I really, really, really need to improve my sneaking_ , Imoen thought as she ran for dear life. _This is all so embarrassing_.

The first thing to alert Rini to what was happening was the barking, as if a large pack of dogs were fighting over a bone. As the angry noises quickly approached, she could see Imoen come shooting out from a narrow passage like a pink comet, a very large horde of gnolls hot on her heels. 

"Keep them back!" Jaheira shouted. "We must not let them surround us! They must not get past that passage!" Minsc and Khalid moved forward with her, weapons at the ready. But there were too many gnolls, Zaerini could see that. She had to do something. But what? And then she had an idea. The gnolls were all bunched up together in that passage, clustered together. Yes. It just might work. Frantically digging into her pack, the half-elf dug out the ogre head, still wrapped up inside her spare cloak. She hauled it out and started spinning it through the air. Then she took careful aim and let it fly.

The ogre head struck the first gnoll square in the chest, causing him to topple backwards and knock the two gnolls behind him over. These two, in turn, toppled some of their allies until eventually a little over a half of the pack were sprawled on the ground in a heap, trying to disentangle their legs from each other, and the rest were watching them with a great deal of confusion.

"Yes!" Rini cried with more than a little pride. "She throws and she strikes! Take that you mongrels!" She then proceeded to shoot arrows at the gnolls together with Imoen while the warriors of the group rapidly made short work of them up close. When it was all over not a single gnoll remained alive.

"Oh, what a wonderful battle!" Minsc said. "Evil ran away with its tail between its legs, as it must when facing swift hamster justice." He wiped his sword carefully, and then Boo's fangs. 

_Fangs?_ Zaerini thought. _I didn't know hamsters had fangs_.

"I must say that was a very clever idea", Jaheira admitted. "We would probably have been overrun without it."

"Thanks", Rini said with a proud grin. "I sort of liked it myself. Shall we move on? Edwin's probably getting impatient."

"Oh", Imoen said. "I didn't have the time to tell you, but I found him. And Minsc's friend as well. They're both up ahead. I think we ought to go and get them right now. The gnolls haven't killed them yet, but I think they might knock each other off before long."

The gnolls had gone silent. Edwin didn't know if that was a good or a bad sign. At least it momentarily spared him from trying to come up with any more exotic ways of cooking himself. The drawback was that he was once again left alone with the Witch, and quite frankly he would rather have been chatting with the dogmen. _At least they have some modicum of intelligence and taste_ , he thought. 

"If they have gone to fetch the chopsticks thou suggested I shall hold thee responsible for our fate", the annoying woman said, as if on cue.

"Oh, by all means", Edwin said sarcastically. "Since we will both be dead then I shan't be shedding many tears over the prospect of your displeasure though. And the point of the chopsticks was that they would at least be forced to eat us in an extremely slow and frustrating manner. If I must get eaten, I want to make myself as awkward a meal as possible."

"Awkward thou art already. Also, rude and uncouth. No woman should be forced to suffer thy ill-mannered presence, it is torture most base."

"Oh, I don't know", said another, mischievous voice from the top of the pit. "I guess I've sort of got used to him." Edwin jerked his head up, his heart making a sudden leap within his chest. Zaerini was looking down over the edge of the pit, her flame-red hair whipping here and there in the violent wind, her golden eyes sparkling with mirth. She had a very pleased grin on her face. He had never thought he'd be this happy to see her. "Hi there, Eddie" she said. "Now correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't Nashkel in the other direction? Looks like you'd better come along with me after all. I'll make sure you don't get lost again."

"I r-really think we should get out of here now", Khalid said and gave Zaerini an anxious look. "There c-could be more gnolls about."

"In a minute", the bard assured him. "I just want to take a closer look at this cave. There could be something valuable inside." After having pulled Edwin and Dynaheir out of the gnolls' storage pit the party had started making their way down the mountain. They had been almost to the bridge when Zaerini remembered the other path, the one that led downwards from the bridge. She felt that she would die from curiosity if she didn't get to find out where it led, and eventually she had persuaded her companions. So far, they had found nothing especially interesting. Just one or two gnolls, nothing they couldn't easily handle. And then they had come across the cave.

It was just another hole in the mountainside, but in Rini's mind it became a portal to another dimension, filled with riches beyond her wildest dreams. She had to look inside. She simply had to. "Won't take long", she promised. Inside the cave turned out to be more of a dark tunnel, leading deeply inside the mountain. With a snap of her fingers the half-elf conjured up some magelight, a pale yellow glow to light her way. Edwin and Dynaheir followed suit, glaring viciously at each other all the while. She really would have to do something about that once they got back to Nashkel, Rini decided. Those two obviously wouldn't be able to work together.

The tunnel sloped gently downwards until the party passed through a large door and emerged into a large cavern with several other tunnels leading off in different directions. It wasn't just a cavern. It looked more like a…house? There were torches on the walls and carpets on the floor. A vast number of bookshelves lined the walls, holding an uncountable number of scrolls and tomes. There was a large table and an equally large chair, obviously not meant for anybody of human size.

"I think we have just made a very large mistake", Jaheira said as she picked up a beautiful jewel-studded scimitar from a stand near the table and gave it an appraising look. "Whoever lives here probably does not care for visitors."

"Oh, come on", Imoen said. "The door was open."

"Yes. After you picked the lock."

"Still", Zaerini said as she greedily eyed the bookcases, "the person who lives here may be a friendly sort." Jaheira just pointed mutely at the neat pyramid of human skulls in the corner. "Or then again", Zaerini said, "maybe not."

"Oh d-d-dear", Khalid moaned. "I r-r-really don't like this. C-can we leave?"

"Don't be such a miserable coward", Edwin said. The wizard was eagerly tearing magical scrolls out of the bookcase, muttering to himself as he examined them. Dynaheir had tried to stay aloof at first and made a comment about 'common burglars' but by now she was starting to look envious. 

Zaerini didn't answer. She had spotted something very interesting. A pedestal of sorts, that glowed with an inviting silver light all of its own. And on the top of the pedestal lay an open book, an ancient tome that seemed to call out to her, to speak to her in a warm and charming voice dripping honey. "Ooooh…", the half-elf said as she edged closer to the marvelous volume. "Now what have we got here?" She eagerly reached for it.

"Do not touch that", Jaheira admonished her. "It is not yours."

"Give me a break", Rini said without turning around. "I'm an adventurer, aren't I? And everybody knows that it is the way of adventurers to pick up anything valuable that isn't actually nailed to the floor." She picked up the heavy tome and then was startled to hear the loud clanging sound of a bell.

"Also", Jaheira said, "next time you may want to think about disarming the burglary alarm before you give in to your larcenous urges." 

"Minsc knows not this word", the large Rashemani said, "but he knows the sound of gnolls." 

Indeed, there now came loud growls and barks from the tunnel they had entered through, rapidly approaching and effectively blocking their way back.

"Oh n-no!" Khalid said. "We cannot get out!"

"They are coming!" Imoen cried, pale and wide-eyed. 

_My fault_ , Zaerini thought, frantically trying to think of an escape. _We're trapped like rats!_

_Move it kitten_ , Softpaws urged inside her mind. The black cat had leapt on top of the table. Her eyes glowed with green fire and her fur was standing on end, making her look twice her normal size. _Sharpen your claws. You're going to need them in a moment. But don't let them catch you here, pick the place to fight._

"This way!" Rini cried and ran down one of the other tunnels, still carrying the heavy book under her arm. After the trouble she had gone through to get it she wasn't about to let go of it if she could help it. After all of her companions had gone through, she slammed the door shut, but not before she could see a swirling brown mass of gnolls come pouring into the chamber, their snarls and howls making her sensitive ears hurt. Then all of her attention went into leaning on the door, trying to keep it shut against the assault of the gnolls. 

"Minsc will help!" the large warrior exclaimed. "His strength will bar the way of evil, and then make it sit up and beg!" 

"Just be quiet and push!" Jaheira panted as she and Khalid put all their efforts into keeping the door shut. From the other side came the sound of large claws scratching the wood, as well as several loud and bloodcurdling howls. The door shook as the beasts hurled themselves against it. From behind her Zaerini could hear Edwin start chanting a spell, and Dynaheir immediately followed suit.

"There!" the mage said, his face looking strained. "I have put the strongest locking spell I know on that door."

"And I have done the same", Dynaheir said, wiping her brow. "Unless these beasts are aquatinted with the Art we should be reasonably safe."

It was at that precise moment that the adventurers heard a deep and booming laugh coming from the other side, a totally inhuman sound. The gnolls fell silent, except for a few frightened whimpers. Rini wasn't sure she wanted to know what could have frightened them so.

"That wasn't a gnoll", Edwin said. Then his eyes widened with apprehension as laughter turned into the language of magic and arcane energies began to gather. "There is power inside that room", the Red Wizard hissed. "I can feel it! The door will not hold for long against it!"

"Your advice, oh omnipresent authority figure?" Jaheira asked Zaerini, in a voice that the bard really thought was unnecessarily sarcastic.

The bard gave the door a wild look. It was starting to edge slowly open, and red light was pouring through the crack as the hinges creaked and groaned. "RUN!" she screamed, and then immediately followed her own advice. They had just turned the corner when they head the oaken door burst into splinters with a loud bang, followed by the sound of falling rocks. With any luck whatever had been in that hidden library besides the gnolls was now buried along with them. And then the sound of cold laughter drifted through the air and Zaerini knew that luck clearly wasn't an option today. As she and her companions rushed madly along the twisting tunnel towards an unknown destination a single, crazed thought kept drifting through her head. _There really should be some dramatic music to go along with this. I can almost hear the melody…_

Never had the simple sight of daylight been more welcome than when Rini first spotted the rapidly growing pinprick of light in the distance. She just hoped that the tunnel didn't end in empty air, this was a steep mountain after all. Luckily enough they came out on solid ground, with the swaying rope bridge leaving the Gnoll Fortress right in front of them. "All of you! Get across!" Zaerini ordered. "Hurry!" She drew her sword, preparing to cut the ropes holding the bridge up once everybody was safely across. From the tunnel she could hear the scraping of large feet and once again that hideous, rumbling laughter. Jaheira crossed first, she and Khalid staying on either side of Imoen. Then Minsc, who gently assisted Dynaheir across. Zaerini looked for Edwin, worried that he might have fallen behind and was relieved to see him come staggering up to her, looking even more dusty and worse for wear than when she had dragged him out of the gnoll pit.

"Stupid, useless robes", the wizard grumbled. "They made me trip. Now can we please get out of here before that thing catches up with us?"

"Be my guest", Rini said. She caught him by the arm and started dragging him towards the bridge. "Now, less running of the mouth and more of the feet!" And then she felt the blood run cold in her veins, freezing her into immobility as the most hideous creature she had seen so far emerged from the dark tunnel. It looked a little bit like an ogre, but its coloring was different, with light blue skin and a topknot the color of glowing emerald. A pair of curved horns protruded from its skull, the exact same ivory white as its long and sharp tusks. The monster laughed again, that same deep and chilling laughter, and displayed a forked black tongue. Its eyes were black as well, but the pupils were the icy white of eternal winter. It carried a large whip, easily as long as a man, and snapped it threateningly in the direction of the adventurers.

"Aaah!" Zaerini could hear Imoen scream. The sound was almost unreal, as if it came from a very great distance. 

"An Ogre Mage", Edwin whispered. He didn't sound so much frightened as fascinated. "I have read of them, but I have never seen one. Can you see the green hair? Only the oldest, most powerful kind have that. Intriguing."

"Look, I appreciate the thought", Rini said. "But could you do the lecture a little later, perhaps? Right now, I'm having problems concentrating for some reason."

"Thieves!" the Ogre Mage bellowed. "Tiny fleshlings! Thieves! Give me my treasure back, and I kill you quickly."

Zaerini looked down at the book she was still clutching firmly to her chest. "Uh…treasure?" she asked. "Oh, you mean this! Now, how did that ever get here? Here, I'll just throw it to you, will that do?" Then she felt fingers firmly gripping her arm and turned her face to meet the eager dark eyes of the Red Wizard.

"Do not give in", Edwin said. "He will not let us go in any case. Besides, I have a better idea." He turned to the Ogre Mage. "You cannot pass", he said. "Well, nothing but wind anyway, you overgrown toadstool. Tell me, is that mold growing out of your head, or did some unfortunate animal fall asleep on top of it and die when it got caught in your stinking breath? And what do you need a book for anyway? Books are meant to be used by people who are able to actually read, and don't make the effort of trying to convince me that you know how to do that. The strain would likely melt your walnut-sized brain and leave you a gibbering lunatic. Not that it would make a great difference. Tell me, do you know how to speak in proper sentences, or would that be too complicated for your miniscule mind?"

"This is your better idea?!" Rini hissed. They had backed halfway across the bridge by now and the Ogre Mage had changed color from light blue to deep purple. He was foaming at the mouth as his jaws worked soundlessly without words emerging.

"Of course," Edwin whispered back. "Ogre Mages are powerful, but if I can goad him into a senseless rage he will be easily dealt with."

"Easily?!"

"Well, more easily. Now don't interfere." He addressed the Ogre Mage once more. "Had the time to digest all that, mini-brain?" he asked. "I am not going too fast for you? Please don't let me keep you if you need to consult a reference book before you can remember how to talk. Kindly roll that tongue in though. You're spitting."

The Ogre Mage certainly did seem to have forgotten how to talk. With a wordless roar of rage, he charged towards the bridge, his memorized spells entirely forgotten. In a flash of sudden insight Rini realized that this must have been what Edwin had intended all along. But there was no time for compliments as the Ogre Mage was now on the bridge, causing it to sway violently as he brandished his large whip. A cluster of small red globes of energy zipped past her ear as Edwin cast a spell, and they struck the Ogre Mage without failure, causing him to scream with pain as well as with fury. Arrows were dropping uselessly into the chasm below, and the half-elf understood that Imoen and the others must be out of range. They wouldn't be able to charge the beast either, the bridge was so narrow that she and the Red Wizard were blocking it completely. "Ha!" Edwin exclaimed. "Feel the fury of Thay, stupid beast!" His second spell was a long beam of roaring fire that hit the monster in the chest. It screamed again and batted impotently at its blazing garments as it staggered towards the edge of the bridge. Then, with a final roar of agony, it toppled and fell over the edge.

Zaerini was just about to sigh with relief. But then, just as the Ogre Mage fell, the black whip lashed out once more. Edwin gasped with pain as it caught his ankle and jerked him off his feet. For a moment he clung desperately to the uneven planks of the bridge. Then he was dragged over the side.

It took Rini several moments before she could react. It felt as if her heart had stopped beating and she couldn't remember how to breathe. "No…" she was finally able to whisper. "No…This can't be happening." 

And then the half-elf suddenly felt color returning to the world and the terrible burning pain behind her eyes subsided as Edwin's voice drifted up out of the chasm.

"I can't fly, you fools!" the wizard cried. "Will you all stop daydreaming and get me out of here before my robes turn an entirely different color!"

Her heart pounding wildly the bard crawled to the side of the bridge and looked over the edge. Edwin was clinging to the ropes that anchored the bridge to the mountainside. The whip was still attached to his leg, and the Ogre Mage was still hanging from the whip. Edwin was getting quite red in the face from the strain, and he didn't look as if he was going to be able to hold on much longer. She wouldn't be able to pull him up by herself though, and she couldn't afford to wait for Minsc to get here. The bridge was long, too long for him to make it in time. She cursed it silently, this bridge of Certain Doom that seemed to have conspired against them from the start.

"I'm coming!" Zaerini screamed. "Just…just hang on!"

"Oh, wonderful suggestion", Edwin said. "I never would have thought of that myself." 

Rini didn't take the time to answer. Wanting nothing more than to close her eyes she kicked off her boots and edged herself over the side of the bridge, using her toes as much as her fingers to keep from falling. There were several ropes running underneath the bridge, some of them looking more rotting than others, but all of them old. The half-elf clung to the ones that seemed the most stable and hoped that they wouldn't break just yet. The Ogre Mage was snarling by now, an animal sound of fear and pain. She could see that Edwin had closed his eyes and that his lips were moving soundlessly, though she couldn't make out the words. And then she was close enough, and she was hanging by her knees and one arm alone, while her other arm held her sword. Her palm was slick with sweat, almost causing her to drop it. Mustn't drop it, mustn't drop it… She couldn't panic. Not now. The sword came down and struck its target. She could feel the warm spray of blood hitting her face. So hot… So…alive… Something twisted and turned inside of her, reveling in the sensation. And now strong arms reached for her, pulling her to safety. She was safe in Minsc's grasp and out of the corner of her eye she could see Khalid and Jaheira pulling Edwin up as well. The whip still was tangled around the wizard's leg, and a single, blue-skinned hand still clasped it in a deathgrip, blood dripping from the severed wrist.

"Well, that was entertaining", Edwin said, his voice just a little shaky. "We must do it again sometime."

Zaerini was extremely relieved once the group neared Nashkel. Under other circumstances the trip could have been an uneventful one. Just a few random encounters with wandering gnolls and hobgoblins, nothing much to worry about. However, there was the added complication of the two mages who seemed to have taken it upon themselves to drive her up the wall. Edwin and Dynaheir couldn't agree on anything, and if they passed within ten feet's distance from each other they immediately started trading poisonous jibes. If one of them didn't start the arguments the other one always did, and if one of them stated that the sun would rise in the east the other would protest out of principle and claim that it would rise in the west. 

By now Rini was fed up with it all, and she had almost given up all hope of getting back to Nashkel before the two spellcasters came to blows. It didn't seem to be just the professional enmity between the Red Wizards and the Rashemani Witches either, they both acted as if they had some sort of personal score to settle. Both denied that however, as well as ever having met before. And for all their differences they both seemed very eager to remain with the group. Rini had made it perfectly clear to them that only one mage would be required, and that she would be very displeased if either one of them were to suffer any convenient 'accidents' while travelling with her. She wouldn't have that on her conscience. Once she got back to Nashkel she would have to make her decision, and she hoped it would be the correct one.

The half-elf first considered Dynaheir. And Minsc, for obviously the pair would never consent to be parted. Dynaheir was elegant, at least once she had managed to clean up her robes a bit. She was polite, even formal, with an archaic pattern of speech that Rini found rather wearying. As a mage she seemed to be skilled, apparently primarily interested in invocational spells. She was prudent and dutiful. Also pompous, dull, without imagination and firmly convinced of her own infallibility. 

It wasn't so much that Dynaheir had refused to make any mention of her reasons for travelling the Sword Coast that irritated Zaerini. Edwin hadn't done that either, neither had she for that matter. It was more that the Witch had seemed so genuinely surprised and shocked by the question, as if she honestly expected everybody she met to just smile and nod whenever she said something, and then leap to obey. And she was preachy. She made constant comments on Rini's behavior, language, morals, even the way she wore her hair and the kind of food she liked to eat. All the time wearing that smug little condescending smile that hinted that the half-elf ought to be grateful for such a perfect creature to have descended from the heavens to point out her faults.   
Even Jaheira wasn't that annoying. The druid knew when to stop, and besides, she had been one of Gorion's closest friends, so she had a right to be a little protective. Rini had decided that Jaheira and Khalid both seemed to genuinely care about her, and she was grateful for that, even if the druid still could do with a little teasing now and then. 

Now Edwin was a different matter. The Red Wizard was in his own way as arrogant as the Witch, perhaps even more so. But he had a different way of showing it. He was haughty and impolite for the most part, sharp sarcasm dripping from every other sentence he spoke. But he could be an amusing conversationalist when he wanted to, and unlike Dynaheir possessed a dark sense of humor. Most importantly, while he was quick to pounce on individual mistakes, he at least didn't preach. And he had kept his word and started to teach her a few more basic spells, which meant that he could be at least partially trusted. 

_It almost has to be Edwin_ , Zaerini thought. _He may drive me crazy, but at least I won't be bored. Pity Minsc won't dump the stupid b…witch. Him I like_. Then her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of another rapidly escalating argument behind her.

"You presume to judge me? Clean up your own filth, Witch, before you go sweeping the floor of another house. How much blood have the _Wychlaran_ spilt in secret over the years to cement their rule, I wonder?" As Zaerini turned around she saw the two mages walking side by side, angrily glaring at each other. Edwin made a swift and cutting gesture with one hand to illustrate his point. If the tone of his voice was anything to go by it was fortunate for Dynaheir that he hadn't been carrying a blade. Minsc kept close by his Witch, frowning dangerously.

"That is different", Dynaheir said, turning her nose up and sniffing. "My Sisters rule righteously and for the common good of all. Thy evil brethren are nothing but murderous plotters and schemers who work for their own benefit and theirs alone."

"Well, at least we're honest about it! Oh, and don't give me the 'common good' line. I know about your 'common good'. That means the Witches' idea of common good, which strangely enough always seems to coincide with what's good for the witches."

Dynaheir flushed, deeply enough that it was clearly visible even with her dark skin. Then she turned to Zaerini. " I should keep an eye towards Edwin", she said. "One can only expect treachery from his kind. Even now he seeks to undermine your faith in the ultimate virtue and justice of my sisters' goals. Goals that we would gladly lay down our lives for, as well I know."

"Or those of others", Edwin said, his voice now a low and dangerous hiss. "As well I know! (But if it comes to laying down the lives of Witches, I will be happy to assist. No magic will be necessary, I will cut her living heart out and squeeze it to a pulp.)" With an obvious effort he regained some measure of calm and addressed the bard. "This witch deceives you with her lies! I tell you she is evil!"

"Can the two of you just…" Rini tried. Her efforts at diplomacy were no good. 

"Evil to thy cause?" Dynaheir said. "Perhaps. However, those of decent nature know otherwise."

"And who will be the judge of my nature, Witch? You? And here I always thought that the _Wychlaran_ have no sense of humor. Perhaps you should be a comedian rather than a mage. You would do well with pie on your face, I think. You could try to convince the pie of the absolute righteousness of you telling it what to do, and after listening to you for a few minutes it would probably be suicidal enough to drop off quietly."

Minsc was really getting anxious by now. He had drawn his sword and pointed it threateningly at Edwin. " Stand ye not too close! Dynaheir is under my protection! Whoever tries to harm her shall feel the edge of my blade, the sole of my boot, and the bite of my hamster!"

Edwin ignored him completely. "There is no protection if you goad me further, witch!"

"Any protection would be courtesy, not necessity", Dynaheir responded coldly. "My power is no less than thine!"

"Her power is nothing without the will to use it! Step from behind your excuses and let us end this here!" The Red Wizard's voice was sharp with anger and his hands moved slowly towards his bags of spell components. Then he paused as Minsc's sword almost sliced his fingers off.

"Lay a finger on what I protect and forevermore you will answer nature's call with a hook!" The giant man was now almost beyond himself with protective wrath and Rini had no doubt that he meant exactly what he said.

Dynaheir obviously saw this as her cue as she raised her hands triumphantly. "Thou shalt not question my will once I present thy neck to the _Othlor_!"

"Yesss", Edwin snarled. "Now at last you show your true colors, Witch. But if you expect me to be easy prey, you're going to be sadly disappointed. I was taught long ago how to deal with your kind."

"Enough!" Zaerini screamed, stepping between the two spellcasters. She just hoped they would come to their senses before blasting her. "Stop this at once! I will not have it!" She then closed her eyes and hoped she wasn't about to get turned into a toad. When she dared to open them again, she was faced with two mages, both of them crossing their arms across their chests and watching her with what could only be described as sulky poutiness. 

"It was his fault", Dynaheir said.

"No!" Edwin interrupted. "It was her fault!"

"I don't care whose fault it was!" Rini said, her yellow eyes flashing like fire as she gritted her teeth to keep from strangling the pair. "At this moment you are both still members of my group, and I will not have one of you killing the other. Not now, not later, not ever. I mean it."

"My honor has been slighted", Dynaheir said, sounding rather haughty. "That wrong must needs be righted."

"I would say something about how your brain is bloated and blighted", Edwin said, "but I will leave the rhymes to the professionals. (Nevertheless, this score must be settled. Vengeance will be taken.)"

"If you insist on trying to kill each other I will take neither of you along with me", Zaerini said. "If I can't trust you in this, how can I trust you with anything? Now, fight it out as you will, but no killing. And not until we get back to Nashkel. I don't want us to be ambushed by brigands while the two of you are busy pulling each other’s hair out."

"In that case I propose a Wizard Duel", Edwin said. He had got a rather pleased and preoccupied look on his face, as if he was thinking something over carefully. "Not to the death, just the nonfatal curses."

"I accept thy challenge", Dynaheir said stiffly. "And I will smite thee for thy impudence."

"Try it, Witch. As a child I owned the entire collection of Famous Curses cards, and I still know them all by heart. (Not to mention the fact that my intellect is vastly superior to your own tiny, underdeveloped mind.) Once I am done with you, you will beg me to kill you." 

The two mages started walking again, somewhat calmer than before. They were still bickering furiously, but at least they were only disagreeing about the rules of the upcoming duel and detailing with gruesome meticulousness how they would devastate each other. Zaerini was happy that they wouldn't be trying to slay each other for now, but she still felt a great deal of unease about the upcoming event. She had a feeling that the 'no-killing' rule didn't mean 'no-maiming'. _Well, at least they both seem to be reasonably pleased for now_ , she thought. _Looks like the one thing they can agree on is how much they both want to blast the other one to smithereens, and I've helped them reach that conclusion. World Peace, I guess I'm your newest champion._


	9. Dye Hard And Daring Duel

**In The Cards 9 – Dye Hard And Daring Duel**

_Isn't it funny how supposedly intelligent people can be so completely unaware of their own and others’ emotions? Plenty of prime examples of that happen to be members of my own family. And yes, I've made that same mistake myself, as my familiar just kindly pointed out to me. Hey, nobody's perfect!_

_Excerpt from 'Ruminations Of A Master Bard'_

Imoen was starting to get bored. It was the first night back in Nashkel and everybody except her seemed to be busy. Edwin and Dynaheir had shut themselves in their respective rooms, clearly intending to waste no time in preparing for that Wizard Duel thing. Minsc had of course gone along with Dynaheir. Khalid and Jaheira had retired to their room, giving each other some very fond looks before they did so. That left Rini, who was usually good for lots of fun. But the half-elf was completely preoccupied with that huge magical book she had found in the Ogre Mage's house. She was lying on her stomach in her bed, leaning her head in her left hand and stroking her familiar with her right as she read. The cat purred contentedly. From time to time, when the half-elf got too involved with her reading and the petting halted, Softpaws would rise and go sit in the middle of the page, refusing to budge until she got the attention she wanted.

"Rini?" Imoen asked. "D'you want to tell me a story?"

Zaerini looked up, her golden eyes slightly disoriented for a moment or two before she drifted back into reality. "Hm?" she said. "What's that? Oh. Sure. Just let me finish this chapter first…"

Imoen sighed. She didn't doubt that her friend meant what she said, but she also knew her very well. When Rini wanted to 'just finish this chapter' that usually meant that she would be in a trance all night until she had finished the entire book or fallen asleep with exhaustion. Nagging would do no good. She would just have to amuse herself. "I'm going out for a bit", she said, pulling on her pink jacket before she sprinkled herself liberally with her favorite scent. "I wanna check the town out, I saw there was a tavern down by the river."

"Uh-huh…" Zaerini said, already deep into the book again. Obviously, she hadn't heard a word or she would have insisted on coming along rather than let her younger friend enter some strange tavern on her own.

Imoen slipped into the night, reveling in her freedom. _All right!_ She struck a dramatic pose and then sneaked along the wall of the Nashkel Inn. _The mysterious, shadowy lady rogue is abroad, prepared to strike! Nobody can match her! Nobody can catch her! Nobody can stop her in her quest for fortune, glory and a really cute boyfriend!_

The girl chuckled quietly to herself before she pulled the door to the tavern open. There was light spilling out through the partly open window, as well as the loud sounds of drunken singing and raucous laughter. This was going to be great! The tavern turned out to be dark, smoky and crowded from one wall to the other. The tables Imoen could see were completely occupied, and there were plenty more people hanging around the bar or enjoying a game of darts on the other side of the room. Most of the guests were soldiers from the town barracks, others seemed to be miners or farmers. A fellow in a black beret and a puffy-sleeved shirt seemed to be some sort of bard and was telling the crowd about how the Captain of the town guard had supposedly gone crazy. Imoen decided to have a word with him later. Rini would be grateful if she found out something useful. But first she wanted something to drink. She'd seen pictures in books of multicolored drinks with fruit in. That seemed about right.

As Imoen slipped through the milling crowd and up to the bar she suddenly found herself face to face with the very last person she wanted to see. A large young man with dull blue eyes, greasy black hair and a mouth that constantly seemed to be half open with incomprehension and that made him slightly reminiscent of a goldfish. He had been shouting at the barman for serving him his beer in a regular cup rather than in one with handles at both sides.

"Oh no!" Imoen said. "Not Abduh!" 

"Huh?" Abduh said. "Wha…" Then a faint light of recognition dawned in his piggish eyes. "You! The pipsqueak! I'll get you good for what you and your little buddy did to me! Nobody crosses the great Abduh! Take this!" And he gave Imoen a mighty shove that sent her flying helplessly backwards through the room.

Imoen had fully expected to crash to the ground, maybe even go out the window. Abduh was strong when he was angry, even though he was clumsy, and now he was really angry. It therefore came as something of a pleasant surprise when she slid backwards along a table in one of the darkest corners to land in the lap of another customer. She sprawled in a rather undignified manner all over him as a matter of fact, her head resting against his chest as if she were some sort of mooning maiden fussing over her beau. "Uh…Hi!" Imoen said in a weak voice. "Sorry to bother ya…" She craned her neck backward to look up into the face of her unwilling pillow. A pair of unblinking black eyes steadily met her own above a sharp nose and she could see one of the man's eyebrows quirk slightly. 

"Fascinating", the stranger said in a low and smooth voice that sounded pleasant, but also vaguely alarming. "When that barman persuaded me to try out the 'Sword Coast Delight' I expected it to be served in a glass and in a slightly less violent fashion. Local custom, perhaps?"

"Er…" Imoen said and got to her feet as quickly as possible. "Sorry 'bout that." She tried to sneak a peek at the stranger. Not an easy feat since he had the hood of his black cloak up and it almost made him invisible in that shadowy corner. Imoen felt certain that he wasn't sitting there by coincidence and neither was she surprised that there was nobody else sitting at that particular table, despite the fact that all the others were crowded. Uneasily she wondered whether Abduh had landed her in worse trouble than she had been in from the beginning. Then Abduh himself came pushing through the crowd, waving his sword about, smiling triumphantly as a thin line of eager drool trickled down his chin. Imoen backed up against the wall, no longer the slightest bit worried about getting close to the intimidating stranger. Nobody could be worse than Abduh.

"Hey, pipsqueak!" The bully sounded very pleased with himself. "Trying to hide? No good! Time for you to die! I'm a great warrior, I'll kill you good. Unless maybe you get down on your knees and lick my boots. Then I might let you live."

"I beg your pardon", the black-cloaked stranger said in a mild voice. "Is it usual for 'great warriors' around these parts to start fights with little girls? Unless it is, I suggest you leave before you make even more of a fool of yourself. Try not to drag your knuckles too much along the floor, it is rather splintery." 

Abduh mulled this over for a minute or so, and then his single brow drew together. "Stay out of this, scum", he said. "Before I kill you too! I'm very good at killing!" He waved his sword again.

"Wonderful", Imoen heard the stranger mutter to himself. "So much for the 'rustic country charm' it seems. If he gets any more rustic than this the straw will be creeping out through his ears and leave his skull completely void." Then he addressed Abduh once more. He still remained seated. Something about the way he spoke made Imoen decide that if she had been in Abduh's place she'd already be running for the hills. "You are quite certain you want to do this? You won't change your mind?"

"What about?"

"About wanting to kill us."

"Oh! Oh, yeah."

"Excellent. Then by all means, please go ahead." He leaned back even further in his chair and put his hands behind his neck, looking very relaxed.

Abduh didn't react at first. This wasn't the way things were supposed to go. People were either supposed to scream and run, beg and plead, or just plain fight. Not just sit there. It was all wrong somehow. Unfortunately for him his brain had a very limited number of available options to offer. And since it wasn't time for eating, sleeping or any other basic physical activity it made him raise his sword high above his head and give a bloodcurdling roar. Then the roar turned into a pained moan as a throwing dagger hit him straight between the eyes, penetrating all the way to what passed for his brain. With a loud and pungent fart, he dropped to the ground, dead before he hit the floor.

"Good", the stranger murmured as he stood and pulled the dagger free. Imoen blinked. He had acted fast enough that she had hardly been able to see the motion. "It's always such a nuisance when they do change their minds." He slipped the approaching barman a few coins. "For the cleaning staff. I suggest making good use of the river, but of course that is entirely up to you. My sincere apologies for the inconvenience." He walked swiftly towards the door, the crowd parting rapidly before him. Imoen just stared after him for a moment. Then her normally cheerful face took on a very firm and determined look and she sprinted after him outside.

"Hey!" she cried. "Hey! Wait for me!" The tall stranger made no sign of stopping. Not, that is, until Imoen caught up with him and yanked at his black cloak. Then he did stop and turn around, gifting her with a look that could have frozen a fire giant in its tracks.

"Is there a particular reason why you are following me around, or are you just being an annoying pest?" he asked. 

"I just wanted to thank ya for rescuing me!" Imoen bubbled. "Wow, that was so great! Really, really, really great! Say, you're a thief aren't ya? Aren't ya?"

The man sighed wearily. "Tell me", he said, "do you always walk up to strange people and ask them things like that? And if so, how is it that you have managed to survive past the toddler age?" 

"Oooh!" Imoen gushed. "You have that scary look down just right! You **are** a rogue! I knew it! Hey, I have a great idea! You can teach me!"

The stranger gave Imoen an extremely odd look at that, as if he were uncertain whether she was insane or not. "Teach you what exactly?" he asked, sounding wary.

"How to be a great thief! I'm pretty good at picking locks and figuring out traps, but my pickpocketing really sucks and I'm no good at all at sneaking and…"

The man held up a hand. "Even if I were a rogue of some sort", he said, "which I to begin with would never admit in the middle of the street, I have better things to do with my time. In fact, I am on my way to an appointment, so if you'll excuse me…"

"Oh, please", Imoen pleaded, still holding on to his cloak. "You've gotta help me! I'll be good and behave. Just a few little tips and tricks, pleeeeease? Pretty please with sugar and cream and a cherry on top?" She smiled and made her dimples show.

"Halfling blood", the stranger murmured. "There can be no other reason for such a high level of irritating adora...” He checked himself and cleared his throat. “Oh, very well. I can spare ten minutes, I suppose. Professional courtesy will get you that much." He jerked his head irritably towards the deeper shadows beyond the river. "Well, what are you waiting for?" he asked. "I will take a look at you since I would think it a shame for a young colleague to get herself or her companions needlessly killed due to incompetence, but I will not have you wasting my time."

Once across the river and safely into the shadowy woods on the other side Imoen seated herself on a fallen log, her hands on her knees, and smiled eagerly at her new friend. "Thanks again for helping", she said. "My name's Imoen, by the way. What's your name?"

"And so, we come directly to our first lesson", the man said in a dry voice. He had remained standing and was watching her as if she were an interesting puzzle. "I don't need to know your name. You most certainly don't need to know **my** name. This meeting never happened, and you will tell nobody of it, is that perfectly clear?"

"Sure", Imoen agreed. "But I still need to call you something. I know! Why don't I make up a name? Er…how about 'the Shadow'?"

"No."

"'Bloodmaster'? Sounds scary enough."

"Absolutely not."

"What about 'Handsome'?"

"Forget it."

"Oh. I'll just call you 'Mr Black' then, OK? Kinda boring, but there you go."

Imoen heard 'Mr Black' whisper something that sounded like 'What did I do to deserve this?' Then he cleared his throat. "Second lesson", he said. "You said you have problems with your sneaking, and quite frankly that comes as no great surprise. That…outfit…almost glows in the dark."

"But I like pink!" Imoen protested, looking down at her hot pink jacket and equally pink tight pants. "Don't I look good in it?"

"That is not the point", 'Mr Black' said. "The point is that it attracts attention. Now that is all well and good if you're planning on a career as a public performer, but if you seriously want to pursue a career as a rogue, I suggest you reconsider, at least when you're working. Or limit the pink to some smaller detail, something easily hidden. And another thing. That perfume. Vanilla, isn't it?"

"Uh huh!" Imoen nodded proudly.

"Lose it. While personal hygiene is certainly important my advice is for you to stick to keeping clean and avoid putting on something that could make even a heavy smoker with a bad cold smell you from across the street. Now take off your boots."

"'Scuse me?"

"I said to take off your boots. I need to see how you move your feet. There are a few tricks to doing this properly…"

Two hours later Imoen was tired but very happy. She was still far from being a master prowler, but she was getting better.

"There we are", said 'Mr Black'. He sounded rather pleased with himself. "That should at least keep you from getting yourself or anybody else killed by tripping over your own feet. And remember, there is no need to mention this to any of your friends. I prefer my privacy." Then he suddenly found himself getting tightly hugged by an exuberant pink-clad girl.

"Oh, thank you!" Imoen gushed. "Thank you so much! You're the best! Say, do you by any chance happen to have a girlfriend? Just curious." She batted her eyelashes at him and displayed her dimples once more.

The tall man looked rather taken aback at this sudden display of emotion. "None of your affair", he said. "And I'm old enough to be your father anyway."

"I don't care."

"I do. Now, remember what I told you about spike traps?"

"Nail them before they nail you."

"Quite. Goodbye then. You have some potential. It might just be enough to keep you alive if you practice your skills regularly." He raised his hand in a farewell gesture and stepped into the shadows by the roads. Then he was gone as if he had dissolved into smoke.

"Woooowwww…", Imoen sighed. Then she headed back towards Nashkel. That small general store seemed to be open at all hours and she'd seen something there that should help her improve her image without forcing her to give up her basic preferences.

Zaerini had fallen asleep across her book and was having a very pleasurable, if slightly naughty dream. Then she suddenly found herself shaken violently.

"Go 'way…", she muttered.

"Rini, wake up! You've got to see this!"

The half-elf wearily fought to get her eyes open. Once she succeeded, she sat bolt upright in bed, staring at Imoen. Her friend was wearing an unfamiliar outfit, a black and yellow leather one that was rather snug around the hips. That wasn't what had caused Rini's shock though. Imoen's normally reddish-brown hair had been dyed a color that could only be called violently pink.

"Immy?" Zaerini gasped. "What did you do to yourself?"

"I just got inspired, that's all", Imoen proudly stated. "Don't I look great? Dark and sinister just like a proper rogue should be! Now I'll be much better at hiding and everybody'll really respect me."

Sinister wasn't exactly the word Zaerini would have chosen, but she didn't want to hurt her friend's feelings.

"I meant your hair", she said.

"Oh!" Imoen grinned a little sheepishly. "Well, I still love pink, and I can always hide my hair beneath a hood when I'm trying to be sneaky. So, I bought some dye at the shop down the street. It's called 'Pink Passion'. The shopkeeper had plenty of bottles, he said this gnome from Athkatla had sold them to him last year and he hadn't been able to sell any of them yet. So naturally…"

"…you bought them all", Zaerini finished the sentence. She knew the way her friend's mind worked.

"Yeah! Now I won't run out of them for years and years! My hair will be pink and pretty like this forever and ever! Isn't it wonderful?"

"Yes. Wonderful." Rini closed her eyes so as not to have to look at her friend for the moment. She thought she had managed to lie convincingly. _If I ever get my hands on that gnome, I'm going to kill him_ , she thought. _Slowly._

_It doesn't look that bad to me_ , Softpaws said.

_Of course not. Cats don't have the same kind of color-vision as half-elves do. Trust me. It's really bad._

The body of Abduh floated gently down-river. The barman had stripped it of sword and armor, and the large amount of beans Abduh had eaten earlier that evening helped keep him afloat. Eventually his corpse drifted ashore, now rather gray in the face and a little nibbled by the fish here and there. It didn't get to rest undisturbed for long, however. Curious hands grabbed it and dragged it onto solid ground while a pair of madly glowing eyes gazed at it eagerly.

"Yes!" a melodious voice said. "Oh, this is just perfect for my experiments!" A tattooed face bent closely over the corpse, sniffing at it. "You'll do just fine, my friend", Xzar hummed to himself. "You'll be a most lovely zombie, just you wait and see. And I'll introduce you to Monty too, you're going to like him, I think. Don't feel hurt if he ignores you and doesn't speak to you, he can be a little strange at times." The necromancer gently patted the cheek of the corpse. "You know", he whispered in a conspiratorial voice, "sometimes I wonder if maybe Monty is a little crazy. He never seems to want to speak to my friends. Not even the dragons with feet like rabbits. Strange, isn't it?"

As the sun climbed ever higher in the sky Zaerini felt increasingly nervous. Dynaheir and Edwin had set the time of their Wizard Duel to high noon exactly, in an empty field just outside Nashkel. It was a beautiful and sunny day, with a clear blue sky dotted only by the occasional cloud. The breeze was mild. The birds were singing in the trees. And Rini felt as if she were about to throw up at any moment. The two mages had both assured her that they would refrain from lethal spells, but she wasn't entirely sure she could trust them, particularly Edwin. She didn't think he would break his given word intentionally, but if he lost his temper anything might happen. 

Zaerini sighed and rubbed her aching eyes. The fact that she was extremely tired didn't make her feel any better. But that book she had found beneath the Gnoll Fortress had been really fascinating, and she hadn't been able to put it down once she started reading it. It had detailed ways of making favorable impressions with people, as well as providing some amusing anecdotes about famous con artists. She already felt as if her ability to charm and bluff had increased.

"Now let's go over this one final time", the half-elf told the two antagonists. It was with some misgivings that she had agreed to act as judge. "No use of lethal spells, or of any other lethal force, direct or indirect. Is that understood?"

Both wizards nodded with some reluctance. They were standing on opposite sides in the magical circle that had been drawn in the middle of the field. Once the duel started nobody would be able to get in or out of it until the winner was proclaimed. Right now, they limited themselves to giving each other hateful looks, but the spells would start flying soon enough. "There will be no 'accidents' either", Rini went on. "That will be cause for disqualifying the survivor from ever joining my group, and it will also make me very angry. And before you ask, it includes 'accidents' taking place after the duel as well as under it. Clear?" Both wizards nodded again. Edwin in particular looked rather disappointed, Zaerini thought.

"Seconds may not interfere with the duel", Rini went on. 

"Minsc will be good", Minsc said, nodding his head vigorously and cracking his knuckles. "If his Dynaheir tells him he may not help her hurt the wizard, then he won't, though his blade cries out for justice." 

"Concentrate on gathering your addled wits long enough to drag your witch off the battlefield", Edwin sneered. "I will have her crying out for mommy before long."

Dynaheir's mouth became a narrow line. "Thou darest mention my mother? Thou wilt regret those words once I have thee begging for mercy." She sounded angrier than Rini had ever heard her before. Time to intervene.

"That will do", the bard said in her firmest voice. "Save the taunts for later. Edwin, you have brought no second. Are you sure you won't change your mind?"

The Red Wizard shook his head. "Nobody worthy to do so is able to appear as my second at this time. If I cannot have skilled representation, I prefer to have none at all. (Not that I should need any aid, of course. I am, after all, of noble Thayvian lineage, with the blood of generations of Red Wizards flowing through my veins, and an education surpassing that of any little backwater barbarian.)

"It's your choice, I suppose", Zaerini said, shaking her head doubtfully. "Any questions? No? Then it's time to begin." She stepped out of the circle and waited a moment, hoping for the butterflies in her stomach to settle down. The duel had drawn a large crowd, and people had come from all over town to watch. Being on the Baldurian border the Nashkel people weren't quite as leery of magic as Amnians in general, since they were very used to travelers coming through. Right now, they expected something exciting to relieve the tedium of an otherwise ordinary day. There were people everywhere, some of them had even climbed into the trees to get a better look. Others had brought picnic baskets. Rini tried to make out her friends and immediately spotted Imoen's bright pink hair. 

_I still can't believe she did that_ , Rini thought. _And I wonder what's with that goofy smile she's been wearing ever since last night as soon as she thinks I'm not watching. I sure hope she doesn't have a crush on somebody again. I mean, she always seems to fall for the guys already taken. Let's just hope it's not Khalid or Jaheira will likely try to strangle her. That woman isn't one to take kindly to anybody flirting with her husband._

Zaerini gave the druid an uneasy look. Jaheira was looking rather annoyed, but then she always did. Khalid had his arm around her waist and was giving her adoring looks. Imoen didn't seem to watching him in particular. She would probably be all right then.

"The rules have been declared and accepted by both combatants", Zaerini formally declared. She had read up on Wizard Duels, and certain proprieties needed to be observed. "They will now be given a final opportunity to withdraw from the challenge." She paused and waited, slowly counting the seconds out until a minute had passed. "The time is up. The circle is closed." As she spoke, she cast the brief incantation that the two wizards had shown her, sealing the magical circle. It now glowed with a dim green light, now and then flickering with silver flames. From this point on there would be no outward interference. The circle would block all external weapons and spells as well as keep the two mages inside. Pity it couldn't be used in real battle or it would have been even more useful, but it only worked under the ritual circumstances connected with a Duel.

"Seconds, stand at the ready!" Zaerini cried. Minsc stood just outside the circle, looking rather unhappy. It was obvious that he wanted nothing more in life than to fight at Dynaheir's side, but this time he would have to let her do battle alone. His only role would be to assure that no cheating went on, and to call a halt to the Duel if she were fatally wounded. Duels weren't always restricted to non-lethal spells, and even when they were accidents had still been known to happen. Edwin had refused his right to bring a second. For some reason that seemed wrong to Rini. She just thought both mages should be equally matched, and she even found herself scanning the crowd, hoping for a volunteer. But there was none, and she was forced to go on. "Wizards, prepare yourselves." 

Edwin and Dynaheir crouched on either side of the ring, hands inches away from their bags of spell components, ready to move as soon as the sign was given, each of them also clutching the plain wooden staff that was the traditional weapon of a Duel. They were locking gazes with each other, each of them trying to unnerve and outthink the opponent. Dynaheir's polite manners and formal attitude had hardened into an icy resolve and her eyes were as hard as stone. Edwin resembled a stalking predator, and Rini had the uneasy feeling that if his spells didn't get him what he wanted he would leap on the Witch and try to rip her throat out, rules or no rules. "On the count of three", Zaerini declared. "One…two…THREE!" She sent up a small shower of blue sparks that went 'bang' as they exploded in the air, thus declaring the Duel officially started. 

The two mages wasted no time. Dynaheir winked out of sight like a drop of water on a hot stove, turning completely invisible. At the same time several identical versions of Edwin popped up around the Red Wizard. Moving as one they made it quite impossible to tell which was the original. _I just bet he loves that_ , Zaerini thought. _So many copies of himself to adore, he must be almost ready to pass out with joy_. The Edwins chanted another spell and golden dust formed into a cloud around them. With a start Rini noticed the glowing outline of a human being, the dust settling upon it to form the impression of a woman made from gold. Dynaheir was no longer invisible.

"Ha!" Edwin cried out triumphantly. "You can't hide from me, witch." Then he staggered backwards as a small swarm of angry red missiles slammed into him, causing his mirror images to shatter. Once again, the two mages were evenly matched. 

"Oculum Occluens!" Edwin yelled, and a thin black beam shot out of his hand towards Dynaheir. At the same time the Rashemani Witch chanted a spell of her own. "Laesio Auris Totalis!" she cried, and her voice rang out like a giant bell on the final word. Edwin shook his head as if in surprise, then furiously batted at his ears. With a start Zaerini realized what must have happened. He had been deafened, and so was unable to cast another spell until the curse wore off. Meanwhile Dynaheir seemed to be having problems of her own. She staggered around the magical circle; her hands stretched out in front of her like a small child playing blind man's buff. Obviously, she had been blinded, and so was at least as disadvantaged as her opponent, probably more so.

The wizards each recovered at the same time, leaping into the fray once more. This time Edwin picked a slightly longer spell. Sweeping his arms threateningly in Dynaheir's direction he seemed to fling something towards her. "In Vivacem Horribilis!" he cursed, and Dynaheir's eyes widened with sudden fear, her hands trembling. Then she screamed and ran, oblivious to all else in her efforts to get away from whatever horrible vision was pursuing her. But she had managed to launch a spell before getting hit, and as Edwin came after her, he found himself slipping and skidding across a slippery pool of black grease. Unable to keep his balance he eventually landed heavily on his back, spitting out a long string of entirely non-magical curses. Once he got to his feet again the spell he had cast on the Witch had worn off. Now she didn't look frightened anymore, but extremely angry. "MORPHEUS!" she screamed, her voice no longer the slightest bit calm and collected. At the same time Edwin declared "Musculus Insignificus!", pointing his finger at Dynaheir with a mocking smile. The smile turned into a vacantly blissful expression and he slumped to the ground, fast asleep at the sound of the Witch's Word of Power. Dynaheir would have moved in to finish him, but she too was stricken. Edwin's curse had rendered her as weak as a kitten. She couldn't even stand on her legs or raise her arms over her head, much less attack. A scream of frustration reminded Zaerini of a baby having a furious temper tantrum.

Still the mages were evenly matched, and as soon as they both came to, they picked up the pace of the battle. Curse after curse hissed through the air, accompanied by many sound and light effects. At one point Dynaheir had made Edwin's nose grow until it was as long as his arm and he hardly could see around it. He, on the other hand, had cursed her to make great warty toads and black snakes drop from her mouth every time she opened it. Needless to say, both the wizards were affected in their spellcasting by these handicaps, but neither wanted to give up. "Pruritus!" Edwin shouted, and Dynaheir's face contorted as her entire body started itching as violently as if she had gone to sleep on a mattress stuffed with nettles. She started scratching herself hard enough that her nails drew blood. "Nooo!" she screamed. "Not t-the Itching Curse!" A flood of slugs, spiders and toads jumped out of her mouth, causing her to shriek again.

"A real classic", Edwin smirked, the effect somewhat spoiled by his enormous nose. "Try casting now, Witch!" Dynaheir didn't respond. She simply twisted one of the rings on her fingers and the Red Wizard stumbled and almost fell, twisting with sudden pain as a spell took hold of him and made him gasp with agony. 

"No mercy f-for the wicked ones", Dynaheir declared. More toads scattered before her. "They m-must be struck down, in the n-name of all Good. For if they are spared, they shalt spread their v-venom elsewhere. Thus was I taught by my sisters in far off Rasheman, and my _Othlor_ will praise me for this when I report back to her." Edwin was on his knees by now, his face pale and sweating from the pain. There were several gasps from the crowd by now, and the watchers were pressing in towards the magical circle, upset shouts coming from more than one of them.

_He's hurting too bad to cast!_ Zaerini felt her heart pounding wildly, and there was a roaring sound in her ears. _She'll kill him! I have to call it off, that sort of spell is too dangerous to be allowed!_ The noises from the crowd were deafening by now.

And then Edwin's quarterstaff swept up and struck Dynaheir neatly across the nose with a terrible, cracking sound. Blood spurted everywhere and the Witch screamed, the noise quickly cut short as another blow hit her head and knocked her unconscious. Edwin staggered to his feet, leaning heavily on the staff. He was still pale, and his eyes were sunken dark hollows, but he was grinning widely. "And I", he said, "was taught that in an emergency it always pays off to know some rudimentary hand-to-hand fighting. Three guesses as to which one of us got the most practical education?" Dynaheir didn't answer, not surprising since she was still out cold. Minsc was pounding the invisible wall that closed off the magical circle, roaring threats against the Red Wizard and calling him a cheater.

"HOLD IT!" Zaerini was surprised at the sound of her own voice. She had had no idea she could sound that authoritative. "The rules are clear. Everything except killing curses was allowed, and Dynaheir used a potentially lethally dangerous one. I would have disqualified her myself, but Edwin has beaten her fair and square, not to mention black and blue. I declare him the winner. This Duel is over." 

"Just a second", Edwin said, pulling a narrow object out of his sleeve. He hurried to Dynaheir's side and knelt down by her, fiddling with something at her waist. As the magical circled faded and dimmed a bright light flared up around the Witch and her stricken form blurred.

"Dynaheir!" Minsc bellowed, rushing to his witch's side. Edwin prudently got out of his way and came strolling up to Rini, an incredibly pleased look on his face. He sighed with relief as the curses started to wear off and his nose resumed its normal size. The half-elf could only stare at the fallen Dynaheir as Minsc gasped with surprise and dismay. The Invoker was still slim, dark-skinned and purple-robed, and still sported a broken nose and a black eye. But she was no longer a she. A male wizard lay unconscious in Minsc's powerful arms, and he even had a short beard to prove his gender. Around his waist Zaerini recognized the Gender Changing Girdle she had found on the ogre near the Friendly Arm Inn. She had shown it to Edwin on their way back from the Gnoll Fortress, and explained what it did, but how he had been able to break into her room to get it without her noticing a thing remained something of a mystery.

"Actually", Edwin said, "I don't think you will be reporting back to your _Othlor_ just yet, Witch. Not unless you want to receive something entirely different from praise, anyway. As a matter of fact, I think your career will go straight down the privy if they get wind of this, assuming they let you live. I'd say we have a Checkmate here." He paused and bowed grandly to the cheering crowd, grinning like a small child displaying a perfect grade to its proud parents. "Behold!" he cried. "I give you Edwin Odesseiron, Master of Magic, the Wonderful Wizard of Thay!" Then he turned to Zaerini a slightly worried look in his dark eyes. "Er…you won't tell the witch how to remove the belt, I trust? That would spoil all the fun."

"Maybe", Rini said, her lips twitching slightly upward. "You did steal it from me after all. How much will you pay me to keep my mouth shut?"

"Er…a hundred?"

"Not enough."

"Two hundred?"

"Nope."

"This is blatant blackmail", Edwin said, sounding more than a little annoyed. "What do you want me to do? Run naked through the street with a target painted on my backside and yell 'Amnian soldiers are all inbred, half brother, half sister, half sheep'?"

"Maybe later. Right now, I just want you to buy me a nice dinner at the inn." Zaerini grinned mischievously and led the wizard off. "And I'll expect you to include dessert as well. This Duel Judging business is strenuous work. I'm in serious need of some chocolate." 

It was a couple of hours later, and Edwin Odesseiron felt very pleased with himself and his day so far. Humbling that smug Wychlaran had been immensely satisfying and the mere memory of her face as she awoke to find herself transformed into a man still was enough to infuse him with a warm glow of pride and happiness. Her outrage had been so very amusing, and the fact that she still hadn't figured out that the enchanted belt could only be removed by a skilled priest was even more so. Dynaheir had left Nashkel at nightfall, still in male form, with a very confused Minsc in tow. The ranger kept asking if Dynaheir was still a Witch now, and that enraged the ex-woman even more. And the duel itself had gone well. Quick reflexes and quicker thinking had won him the day, and he thought he could safely say that he had upheld the family honor. 

Edwin smiled to himself, looking forward to going over the subtler aspects of the duel with his teacher at a later opportunity. For one moment he had spotted the assassin at some distance in the watching crowd, a safe way behind Zaerini and her friends. It had been a good thing to feel the unwavering support of his mentor, like an invisible hand on his shoulder. _And this time I did everything right, he thought. He cannot help but approve, especially of that final touch with the belt. Yes, I think he'll appreciate that even more than Zaerini did._

That thought brought the mage back to the present and the female sitting opposite him at the dinner table. She was licking chocolate cake off her spoon very, very slowly, with an ecstatic expression on her face. Edwin took the opportunity to study her more closely without her noticing. The half-elf could pass for either elf or human, depending on circumstances. Her slight build resembled that of an elf but could as easily be taken for that of a slim human. The same contradiction was present in her face. Her features weren't as frail and ethereal as those of a full elf, her chin was firmer and no more than the slightest bit pointed, her nose was broader and her mouth wider, emulating those of a human. But the high cheekbones were those of an elf, as were the eyes. Larger than human eyes, a little tilted, and of the strangest color Edwin had ever seen. Golden eyes, sometimes shimmering like the metal itself in its purest form, sometimes filled with leaping flames or glittering like the orbs of some large predator, a great cat most likely. The Red Wizard wondered whether those fascinating eyes might be a mark of her peculiar heritage or simply a random trait. Whatever the case they were remarkably interesting to watch, their expression shifting constantly and with quicksilver speed. Her hair was equally wild, a bouncing flame-red mass, cut just above shoulder-length and usually pulled forward to hide her pointed elven ears. It wouldn't surprise Edwin if she did that on purpose to mask her mixed blood. People could be so very small-minded about things like that, and that went for both humans and elves. It was still very nice hair though, even if it was a little unkempt. 

_As for race she could be a gnome or a half-orc for all I care, as long as she can carry a decent conversation_ , Edwin thought. And she could, a fact that he had been both pleased and surprised to discover. He had learnt long ago that few of the people he met were able to keep up with him intellectually, and so he usually didn't even bother with trying to accommodate them anymore. That made him value the ones that were able to match his pace even more. The redhead had a sharp and sometimes sarcastic wit, and she wielded it like a blade to get her own way. He could respect that. Annoying as she could be, she could also be amusing when she wanted to, and her sense of humor wasn't that different from his own. Her company was actually quite bearable. _What am I doing?_ Edwin thought with more than a little chagrin. _She's the Mission! What does it matter what I think of her? I'm here strictly in a professional capacity, not to socialize. Calm. Cool. Collected. That's me. Totally committed. It's...it's just that I need to observe her closely and get to know her better in order to better manipulate her. Yes. That's it. And if I happen to notice that she happens to have nice hair that is also a strictly professional observation. Nothing else._

The wizard gave a small sigh of relief, pleased to have figured it all out. Zaerini was still enjoying her chocolate cake, the final treat of a very nice dinner arranged by the thoroughly terrorized Nashkel innkeeper who had almost emptied his stores entirely to satisfy the Red Wizard. The half-elf had been pleased, especially with the dessert that had made her grin widely. Her small and pink tongue darted in and out of her mouth with lightning-quick motions, savoring the treat as thoroughly as possible. Edwin found himself transfixed by the sight. In and out. In and out. Something told him that whoever dared come between the bard and the focus of her desire would come to regret it badly. 

"You know", Zaerini said, "this was a very nice dinner." She watched her empty plate with some regret. "Pity there's no more cake. But at least we got a chance to talk in private. I liked that, and I think I've made up my mind. If you still want to join the group, you're welcome to do so." She grinned. "Just don't try to double cross me and we'll get along just fine."

"Oh. Good." 

"As a matter of fact," the half-elf added, "I've got a round and pretty little something for you. Here you go." She deftly stuck her slim fingers inside her bodice, causing Edwin's eyes to boggle.

"What are you doing!" he choked. 

"Just giving you a present", Zaerini said with a small frown. "I don't bite, you know. Here, give me your hand and we'll see how it fits." Before the wizard could react, she had grabbed his hand and forced something onto one of his fingers. It was gold. It was round. It glowed with an inner light all its own, much like the mischievous eyes of the half-elf. "What's the matter, Eddie?" she said. "I thought you wanted the Ring of Wizardry? Don't tell me you've changed your mind."

"I…no. Of course, I haven't." Edwin instinctively pulled the cowl of his robe forward to keep his burning cheeks from showing. For one second, he had thought… _What an utterly preposterous idea!_ And she had probably done it on purpose too. But the gift was a princely one. Already he could feel the magic of the Ring at work within his mind. He had always had an excellent memory, but now it felt expanded to immense proportions, new doors opening to new opportunities. This was a marvelous treasure indeed. And she had given it to him freely. Why? What could possibly possess her to do such a thing? "It…is beautiful", he said. "Just like y…er…like a powerful magical ring ought to be." By now he hardly had any idea what he was saying, or for that matter thinking. For some reason, his powers of reasoning seemed to have shut down. And that wasn't entirely because of the gift itself, but rather because **she** had given it to him. _Whatever that is supposed to mean_ , Edwin thought with a small frown. _I certainly have no idea_. 

"You like it then?"

"Oh, yes! Very much", the mage hurriedly assured Zaerini. "But I don't understand. That ring would have fetched you a small fortune had you sold it. Why did you…" His voice trailed off as he struggled to phrase the question properly.

"Give it to you?" The bard looked thoughtful now. "I…don't know. It just seemed right somehow." She flashed him a quick smile. "I'm not proposing or anything if that's what has you looking like a fish on dry land." 

"Rather a fish than chittering squirrel", Edwin automatically retorted, twisting the ring around to better study the design. But his heart wasn't really into the insult game right now. "You never answered my question."

"Yes, I did."

"No, you didn't."

Zaerini shrugged expressively. "I said I don't know", she said. "I guess I just figured that since you're a wizard you can make good use of it. Should help keep us all alive. That sounds logical, doesn't it? Perfectly logical. Yes, I'm sure that's what I had in mind."

"Perhaps…" Edwin said slowly, stroking his beard. It did, in a way. That was some relief. Wasn't it? So why did he feel as if he had just been turned upside-down and spun across the floor like a top? Well, at least the girl…no, the woman in front of him looked almost as puzzled as he felt. Still, he didn't want to feel indebted to her. He hardly knew her. And then there was the Mission…

"Oh", Rini said as if she had suddenly remembered something. "There was this magical wand as well. Shoots lightning bolts it seems. I think we could both have some fun with that if you show me how to work it. I didn't want to try it out alone the first time, I've never used a wand before…"

"Hold on", Edwin interjected, looking her straight in the eyes. They really were a most remarkable color… "Such a gift deserves something in return. (I wouldn't want you to think you can buy my loyalties after all. I act as I please.)"

"Really? A present? For me? What is it?" Those eyes were practically sparkling now, and the bard's melodious voice was equally eager as she leaned forward across the table so that their hands almost touched.

"Er…", Edwin said as he felt his brain come to a screaming halt. "It's…it's…" He frantically tried to pull his thoughts together, but it was suddenly strangely difficult to do so. What could he possibly give her anyway? It had to sound impressive. _After all, I want her to trust me. So that I can carry out my assignment. Yes. That makes perfect sense. Perfect sense_. It was at this point in time that Edwin's mouth decided that it had had enough of waiting for his brain to get its act together, and that it might just as well take over. "A year of my services as a wizard", it said. " I am sure you agree that my guidance will be far more valuable than any monetary sum or item of value." _What are you doing?! Edwin's mind screamed. You can't just go and sign yourself up for a whole year! Have you gone insane?!_ Unfortunately it didn't have the time to take the offer back.

"That…that's great news", the bard said in a soft voice. She looked very serious now and her eyes were wide and impressed. "And a very generous gift. Sure you won't change your mind? I thought you just wanted temporary companions?"

Once again, the commands of Edwin's brain were bypassed. This time his neck took charge and shook his head feebly. "I'm sure", his mouth croaked.

Zaerini smiled again. "Wow!" she said. "Wait till I tell the others." The smile turned wicked. "Jaheira will go spare!" She bounced to her feet, gave him a cheerful wave and bounded up the stairs. "Oh, Jaheeeiiira", she cried out in a sing-song voice. "I've got a surpriiiise for youuu…"

Left behind at the table Edwin sat staring morosely at the empty plates, feeling as if he had just been turned inside out by a hurricane, unable to understand what exactly had just happened. He was also trying to figure out a good way to inform his teacher of what he had done, one that wouldn't make him look like a complete and utter brainless fool. In this venture he was singularly unsuccessful.


	10. Of Truths And Trust

**In The Cards 10 - Of Truths And Trust**

_Trust is extremely important. It defines us. Whom we trust. Who trusts in us. And most of all, whether we dare trust ourselves. Something I haven't always been able to do._

_Excerpt from 'Ruminations Of A Master Bard'_

"You did what?" Jaheira's voice closely resembled the low growl of a wolf and she had crossed her arms across her chest. A muscle in her right cheek was twitching dangerously. 

"Oh, didn't you hear me the first time?" Zaerini asked in an innocent voice she knew was certain to infuriate the druid even further. She was having tremendous fun. Still, she was glad that this argument was taking place in the privacy of the private room she shared with Imoen and not in the common room of the inn. "I could repeat myself…"

"I heard you", Jaheira said, scowling darkly. "I was simply refusing to believe that even you could be this irresponsible."

"N-now, now Jaheira", Khalid tried to intervene, putting his hand on his wife's shoulder, "perhaps we should…"

"Perhaps we should bundle this infant up in swaddling clothes and put her in a playpen", Jaheira snarled and shook his hand off. "She acts about the right age for it."

Rini was starting to lose her temper by now. "What's so bad about it?" she asked in an irritable voice. "A wizard should be extremely useful to help us when we go into the mines, and you knew I was going to keep Edwin around."

"For the duration of our investigation, yes. Not for a whole year! The Red Wizards cannot be trusted."

"Would you rather I'd kept Dynaheir? The Boring B…Witch of The East? Don't pretend you liked her any better than I did."

"But he is a RED WIZARD!" Jaheira was practically screaming with frustration. "They always have hidden agendas. Always!"

"Really, now?" Rini's eyes took on a dangerous look, their golden color intensifying until they almost seemed to be glowing. Her voice had suddenly gone very cold. "Well, I suppose you would know about things like that, Jaheira. Being a Harper and all. Tell me, how long were you going to wait until you let me in on your little secret? A month? A year? Ever? Don't try to lie to me about it either. You know my readings of my cards tell me much. Well, I've figured this one out and it makes perfect sense. Harpers are known for being self-righteous meddlers, after all." She felt genuine satisfaction at seeing the druid take a step back, her face pale and tense. "And there's something else, isn't there? I've seen you watching me, you and Khalid both. Like I'm some sort of wild animal and you're wondering whether I might be rabid, and you might have to put me down. For some reason that unnerves me just a little bit, given that you're both supposed to be friends of my father. So I suggest you tell me what your problem is right **now** or I may just rearrange this group in a manner you won't like, and I think I'll rearrange your face along with it!" For a second or two she wondered whether she had gone too far. The blood was pounding furiously in her head and she realized that she had unconsciously clenched her hands into fist. Jaheira's face looked like a stony mask and Khalid had put his hand on the hilt of his sword as if he thought he was going to have to defend his spouse against bodily harm. Rini was glad that Imoen wasn't around to see this, she didn't want her friend to get scared. 

Then Jaheira sighed and sat down on the bed. Her green eyes were still angry, but somehow Zaerini knew that the anger was no longer directed at her. "You…are correct", Jaheira said in a slow voice, as if she was picking her words carefully. "We are Harpers, Khalid and I. So was Gorion, and that is how we knew him. Though we did not meet him as often as before after you were…born."

"And just what do the Harpers want with me?" Zaerini asked, still feeling suspicious. 

"At the moment? Nothing more than to keep an eye on you, perhaps to guide your steps." At the redhead's quick and cynical smile Jaheira flushed a little. "It may be the true that the Harpers have a certain interest in your actions", she admitted. "But for Khalid and I there could be nothing more important than the wishes of Gorion."

"Y-y-yes", Khalid said with a shy smile. "H-he was a good f-f-friend and we miss him v-very much."

"True", Jaheira said, looking sad. "It was his wish that we look after you and try to keep you safe, should anything happen to him. He loved you, and he wanted us to be your friends as we had been his. But we seem to have failed, for you do not trust us, and I fear for your safety."

And then the terrible anger that had been filling Zaerini subsided back into a dull roar and she felt tears welling up in her eyes as they had when she watched Gorion die. She suddenly found herself sitting on the floor, sniffling quietly. "I…I loved him too", she whispered. "And I miss him terribly."

She felt Khalid's arm around her back and Jaheira's hand cupping her chin. "As do we, child", the druid said. "As do we. And perhaps I have been a little…overzealous in trying to keep you safe. We simply do not want you to come to harm by your actions. If I came down a little hard on you just now it was because the knowledge that you would trust the Thayvian but refuse to put your faith in us…well, it galled me."

Zaerini raised her head and looked the druid in the eyes. "I want to trust you", she said. "But I can't shake the feeling that you don't trust me. Why is that? I think I have a right to know."

"You d-do", Khalid said. He sounded unusually assertive. "You are old e-enough, and you need the knowledge in o-order to protect yourself."

"Protect myself? Against what? Do you know who's trying to have me killed? Why haven't you told me before?"

"We know some of that", Jaheira said in a reluctant voice. "What Gorion told us, though I am certain he did not tell us everything he knew. And I do not think even he knew it all. We will share what knowledge we have, but not here and now. The walls may have ears, and we will be safer once we are on the road. I give you my word that you shall have your answers then."

Rini thought about this for a moment. "Agreed", she said. "We will leave for the mines tomorrow morning. And then… then we will talk."

"Yes", Jaheira said. "We will talk. Just…trust me a little while longer." 

_I will_ , Rini thought. _But you never told me whether **you** trust **me**._

Meanwhile, Edwin was having an awkward conversation of his own. It had been no surprise to find his mentor waiting for him when he dragged his feet into his room, but any pleasure he might have felt at being congratulated on his successful duel turned to ashes in his mouth at the thought of what was to come. Eventually Dekaras had asked him exactly why he was looking as if he was under a death sentence and had just found out that his execution would be in five minutes. Then, no more than a minute or so ago, Edwin had told him. He had tried to make the best of it, but the whole story still sounded rather pitiful. 

"I see", Dekaras said once Edwin had finished. The assassin stood facing his student, his hands on his back as if he was pondering an interesting puzzle. His voice was ominously neutral in a way that Edwin recognized all too well. "So, the girl gave you a nice present. Isn't that sweet." The temperature in the room seemed to drop to freezing point. "And that impressed you enough that you felt the urgent need to sign yourself up for a year of being her devoted servant. Quite a remarkable way of handling an assignment. I cannot imagine why I've never thought of that myself."

"I just…" Edwin tried. He shuffled his feet from side to side, feeling tremendously embarrassed. He felt almost as if he had been turned into a small child once more and was trying to feebly explain just how his homework assignment had come to explode and cover the entire schoolroom, as well as the two of them, with green slime. That explanation hadn't gone down very well either.

"You 'just' willingly entered into virtual slavery", Dekaras said, his voice scathing. "Or did the girl offer you anything other than a magical trinket or two as payment for an entire year of your services? No? There you have it then." 

"But it wasn't **like** that!"

"Oh? Then what was it like?"

Edwin paused. What had it been like, anyway? He wasn't certain of that himself anymore. In the end he just sighed with frustration. "I…don't know", he said. "I don't know why I did it, and I don't know how I'm going to get out of it. I feel so…so stupid."

Dekaras gave him a concerned look. "Now listen to me", he said, in a much kinder voice. "You aren't stupid, merely young and insanely reckless from time to time. At least you seem to be aware of that fact. From what you have told me and from my own observations I'd say that girl has the makings of a fine con artist. Then there is the matter of her…heritage. Who knows what it makes her capable of? She tricked you and we will have to deal with that somehow, but at least it put you into a prime position for carrying out your assignment." He paused. "I have no intention of abandoning you in an enforced position of servitude, be it for one year or one week", he said. "You may be assured of that." His voice was still calm and even, but for a moment his eyes burned with a black and murderous fury that made Edwin extremely happy that it wasn't directed at him. Then it disappeared from sight again, hidden but not gone, like a fire-breathing dragon lurking inside a dark cave.

"What are we going to do?" Edwin asked. It came to him that he feared the answer, though he didn't know why. All that mattered was that he was free of his obligation. Wasn't it?

"You promised to serve her for one year", Dekaras said, carefully speaking the words as if he were tasting them. 

"Yes", Edwin said hurriedly. "And I can't just break my word. Well, I could, I suppose, if I really had to. I'd just prefer not to, if possible. Lying is one thing, but that's different."

"If you say so. Did you promise when and where you would serve?"

"No…"

"Then that is settled." The assassin allowed himself a brief, wolf-like smile. "You can serve her later on. After you persuade her to come back to Thay as your superiors have ordered you. You wouldn't want them to get upset with you. Of course, it could be that an unfortunate and fatal accident will befall her once her usefulness is at an end."

"Suppose she refuses though?"

The smile widened. "Then, my dear boy, I suppose that unfortunate accident I mentioned will be happening just a little bit sooner. Just as soon as you give the word in fact. You need not worry about that."

Edwin nodded. He should be happy, he thought. Everything was going to be all right now, wasn't it? _It will_ , he thought. _Of course it will_. So why did he feel as if he had just committed one of the worst mistakes of his entire life? "We will be leaving for the Mines tomorrow", he said. "How will I keep in touch with you?"

"You won't. I will keep in touch with you." Dekaras paused and gave Edwin a measuring look. "Just keep me fully informed when I do so and let me know when you need help", he said. "Don't try to handle everything on your own or you could get seriously hurt. I wouldn't want that, not to mention how much I'd hate having to explain it to your mother."

Edwin nodded again. 

"Good. Remember that and this will all work out for the best. Trust me."

_I do_ , Edwin thought. _But after what happened today…I wonder if I can trust myself._

The group of adventurers set out the next morning, heading south on their way out of Nashkel. They were just passing by the barracks when a fat and very nervous-looking man came waddling up to them.

"There you are!" he exclaimed. "I am so pleased to see you!"

"Excuse me?" Zaerini asked. "Have we met? I don't think…"

The man hastily shook his head. "No, say not another word", he said. "I would not think of making you wait but a moment for your just reward. When the council told me that they had procured GREYWOLF (Formerly known as 'the Deathstalker') to rid the woods of the bandit Tonquin, I knew we could expect swift justice. I would not have predicted success this quickly, but who else could it be striding into town looking....ah...looking as you do. Please accept this meager sum of 200 gold pieces, as well as the heartfelt thanks of all of Nashkel." He held out a bag of coins, looking as if almost he expected the half-elf to cut his hand off in order to get to it.

"Greywolf?" Rini said with a small smirk. "Never met him. And with a silly name like 'the Deathstalker' he doesn't sound like anybody I'd want to meet. Sounds like a right pillock if you ask me."

The fat man's brow turned shiny with nervous sweat. "Y-you are not Greywolf the bounty hunter? (Formerly known as 'the Deathstalker') Oh sweet Helm, I almost gave 200 gold pieces to a complete stranger!? The Captain best not hear of this; he'd have my hide. Thanks be for your honesty, stranger, there are those who would not have done as such."

Rini shrugged casually. "Don't mention it", she said. "So, you're in charge of paying up for bounties around here, are you? You must be a very important man, then." She gave the man a warm smile that made him puff up like a blowfish ready to burst. 

"Me? Why, I am Oublek, and I am what binds the guard to the public! A vital relations link, I am. Indispensable."

"Of course you are. Now, about those bounties… Any unclaimed ones at the moment?" 

"Our captain of the guard is still on the loose. Keep your blade ready if you get anywhere near him. Very dangerous, he is. There is also a bit of foolishness with a local artist named Prism. Stole a couple of emeralds, he did. We seek their return, though Prism's fate is of little concern."

"I see", Zaerini said. "Well, maybe I'll come across them."

"I've heard about that captain fellow", Imoen said as soon as Oublek was out of hearing range. "There was this guy called Volo at the tavern the other night. "Seems he was a nice man, happily married, a couple of kids. Then one day he just went crazy and killed them all, just like that. He ran off into the woods and nobody has seen him since."

"An unpleasant business", Jaheira said. "I suggest we do not go out of our way looking for that man. And by the way, Zaerini, I must say I am pleased with your behavior just now. You could easily have kept Oublek's money, but you chose the honest path."

The bard grinned. "Don't know about honest", she said. "But I want to achieve fame and glory under my own name, not another's. And especially not a ridiculous one like 'Greywolf the Deathstalker', 200 gold isn't worth that particular humiliation. What kind of idiot calls himself something like that anyway?"

Edwin snorted disdainfully. "One of the many insignificant pawns on the chessboard of life", he said. "Though Greywolf may well be a woman. Female bounty hunters and assassins are not that uncommon, and I doubt whether the fat fool back in Nashkel knew for certain what sex this one was."

"You have a point there", Rini said and gave him a thoughtful look. "What's the difference between bounty hunters and assassins by the way?"

"The line is a blurred one", Edwin explained. He paused briefly as if he were considering his next words carefully. "Briefly put, the bounty hunter sometimes brings his prey back alive while the assassin administers punishment on the spot. Though many bounty hunters also choose this approach, since transporting prisoners can be awkward. Also, bounty hunters tend to be more nomadic while assassins more often operate within a select territory, which causes confrontations between the two categories now and then."

Rini thought about this. "So, if a stranger kills you for money out in the wilderness, it's likely a bounty hunter, but in the city it's an assassin?"

"Put in words simple enough for you to understand, yes. (Though why I bother with imparting my knowledge to people unlikely to make good use of it is a complete mystery to me.)"

"You seem to know a lot about these things, wizard", Jaheira said in a suspicious voice. "Why is that?"

"I received a well-rounded education, treehugger. I wouldn't expect you to understand such things, however, since your own probably consisted of communing with nature by spending hours at a time talking to trees and rocks. (And such a sparkling conversationalist they made you too.)"

"You dare…"

"Dared and did. Tell me something, druid. If a tree falls in the forest, and there is nobody around to hear it, is it still possible to persuade it to hit you?"

"No, but I need no persuasion in order to hit **you**!" Jaheira snapped.

"Not now", Zaerini interrupted them. "I think we are getting close to the mines." And so they were. The wood was getting sparser, the ground steeper and rockier. The adventurers passed by a couple of storage sheds kept by the miners, but there were no humans in sight. 

"The a-actual mine-site is t-that way", Khalid said, pointing towards the west. 

"Hm", Rini said. "I think we should take a brief look around the area first. Just to make sure the mine isn't plagued by some group of monsters lurking around these woods."

The rest of the party agreed to this and they moved down a gradual slope, surrounded by tall rocks. And then they heard the sound coming from around a bend in the path. Tap-tap. Tap-tap. Tap-tap. Fast and hectic, and showing no sign of stopping any time soon.

"Wonder what that is?" Zaerini whispered. "It sounds really freakish." Then she turned the corner so see the origin of the sound and knew that she had been completely right. There was a man standing in front of her, maybe forty years old or so. His clothes had been expensive once, like those of an Amnian noble, but now they hung dirty and wrinkled from his emaciated form. The man himself wasn't in much better shape. He looked as if he hadn't eaten or slept properly for weeks, his skin was gray and cracked, his eyes sunken into his skull, his lips bleeding and dry. Tangled hair covered with dust, hands like claws, cheeks painfully gaunt. A man who looked that bad oughtn't to be able to stand, he looked as if he would keel over dead at any moment. He paid no attention to the travelers, his entire mind and soul was focused on his work, the face he was carving out of the rock. It was a woman's face, beautiful and regal. It was also the face of an elf.

"Silvanus preserve us", Jaheira murmured. "That poor man is working himself to death." 

The artist chose that moment to speak, in an incoherent and rambling voice directed at the sculpture in front of him. His voice was a dry whisper, worn out and cracking at the edges. "Ahh, beauteous creature! Never should I have stolen these emeralds, but there was nothing else that would capture the majesty of thine yes! I did what must be done, for I have left my shop, forgotten all my commissions, and spent all that I had. I must complete thee!"

_What a silly creature_ , Softpaws remarked, her mental voice sounding amused.

_Yes_ , Zaerini agreed. _I understand about him being committed to his art. When I've been busy composing or writing I've forgotten about food and sleep once in a while. But there is such a thing as going too far._

_That's not what I meant. Why would he want to make a sculpture of some snooty-looking elf when he could do lovely cats? Think he would do one of me?_

_I don't know. We could ask him, I suppose._

"Hello", Zaerini said, tapping the enraptured artist on the shoulder. "Busy day?" 

The man twisted around, his reddened eyes gleaming fanatically, and he almost dropped his hammer and chisel. "What?" he asked. "There is someone here?" The eyes then fixed on the half-elf and her companions and he began to tremble violently. "'Twas that relentless Greywolf (formerly known as the Deathstalker) who sent you, wasn't it?" Now he sounded as if he were about to cry. 

Greywolf again. Rini was really getting tired of that name. "If he's such a great bounty hunter, would he really be needing us to help him?" she asked. Then she sighed briefly as she saw that the comment had gone straight above the man's head. "No", she continued. "I have nothing to do with anyone named Greywolf, and nor would I want to. As a matter of fact, I'd rather eat a live slug."

"Thank Deneir", the man exclaimed. "I thought I was done in. I am Prism, and I fear I am not cut out for a life on the run. Mayhaps you could help a foolish sculptor finish this epiphany? Please, guard this place, for surely Greywolf will come seeking the bounty on the gems. I will pay with my last possessions if you would do this one service for me."

"Your last possessions?" Edwin remarked in an interested voice. "And what would those be? Gold? Jewels? (As long as it's not simply a collection of bills.) It would need to exceed the bounty, of course."

"No, it wouldn't", Imoen interrupted. "We can't just let him get killed, can we?"

"Why not? He stole the emeralds. If there is a bounty on his head, it's his own fault. And if he is too stupid to even flee from the bounty hunter, I fail to see why we should concern ourselves with him unless he is able to produce proper payment."

"Because that's not what heroes do", Imoen protested, tossing her pink hair and crossing her arms across her chest. "Tell him, Rini!"

"Heroes?" Edwin sneered. "You don't know much about heroes, do you, little thief? 'Hero' is simply another name for 'adventurer killed prematurely by his own stupidity'."

"That's enough", Zaerini snapped and glared at the Red Wizard. "Nobody picks on Immy around me, and you'd better remember that." She turned to Prism. "If it is so important, then I shall guard you as best I can. Yes. I understand about works of art, even if you have been very foolish." 

The sculptor's weary eyes lit up with new joy. "I thank you", he said, "for I cannot run from this place until my task is done. I have been using potions of speed to aid my work and have not slept for days. She is beautiful, is she not? 'Tis a monument to my foolishness. I saw her but once, on the outskirts of Evereska, and said nothing. I let thee pass from mine eyes, and mine heart hath cursed me for it!"

"Whatever", Rini said. She thought the statue of the elven woman looked very high and mighty, and extremely self-righteous. Not like a person she'd like to meet at all. "Now, I don't need all of your possessions as payment, seeing as you're a fellow artist and all. But I'd much appreciate it if you'd take a break from your lady up there and do me another sculpture?"

"Another sculpture?" Prism asked, sounding puzzled. "Of thee, my lady? You are beautiful to be sure, but such a work would take much time."

"No, no", Zaerini said, blushing a little. "And quit flattering me, I know perfectly well I'm not beautiful. It's not of me. It's of my friend here." Softpaws leapt onto her shoulder, purring softly and gazing at the sculptor with her emerald green eyes as she flicked her tail lightly from side to side.

"A feline beauty!" the artist gushed. "Truly, inspiration burns within me like a fire this day. Yes, I shall carry out your commission, sweet lady, and gladly so. Come here if you please, good feline, and hold your tail high for me to see." The black cat preened proudly in front of Prism, posing with her tail high. _See?_ She sounded very pleased. _I told you he'd prefer a cat to a snooty elf. The man has excellent taste_.

Prism worked quietly for another hour or so, now and then muttering things like 'yes, lovely' or 'head a little to the left'. When he was done, he handed Zaerini a small sculpture, a beautiful figurine in black marble brought along from his old supplies before the current craze. It was a black cat, crouching and ready to leap on its prey, intelligence and determination radiating from its face. The eyes were a pair of small emeralds, glowing fiercely. The figurine was a perfect likeness of Softpaws.

"It's…beautiful", Zaerini said, showing the sculpture to her familiar. The cat purred her approval and twined herself around Prism's legs in an obvious gesture of gratitude. "Thank you. I'll let you get back to your own work now."

"It is almost done", Prism smiled, his haggard face almost glowing with the inner light of the creator gazing upon his creation. "I will just…" Then he was rudely interrupted.

A man came walking towards the group with determined strides. He was a tall and muscular man, armed in leather armor and with a bow across his back and a sword at his side. His hair was iron gray and cropped closely to his head, his face brown and lined like old leather. "I have come for you, Prism", he said in an emotionless voice.

"No! Not yet!", the artist begged, white-faced and trembling. "My work is nearly done! Please, I implore you!"

The bounty hunter shook his head. "Your sentiment is wasted on me, fool. You are but gold in my purse. Do you make your situation worse by hiring help to protect you? Who are you fools?" The last words were spoken to the small group of adventurers, and not in a very polite voice either. 

"Who we are is unimportant", Rini said and gave the man a cool look. "What is important, is that we are armed to the teeth and we mean to stop you from hurting him! Oh, and I bet I know who you are. You have to be 'Greywolf, formerly known as Deathstalker'. Tell me, did you change your name because you were too stupid to spell the old one or was it just a reaction to your approaching old age? If so, I wonder what you're going to call yourself when you get even older. How about 'Baldy'? Or 'Senile'?"

"At least I'll **get** older", the bounty hunter growled. "Unlike you lot! I'll sell your blades for scrap and make soup of your spell fixings! Pity you'll not live to realize the mistake you've made!" He drew his sword, a beautiful blade that glowed with a pale blue light, and then he charged. The charge was abruptly cut short, however. The redheaded half-elf had drawn the magic wand she had stolen back in Beregost, and now she fired it three times in rapid succession. Several jagged bolts of blinding white and blue lightning shot out of it with a loud crackling sound, the recoil almost making Rini fall flat on her back. Three of them managed to hit Greywolf in the chest and the bounty hunter jerked and thrashed on the ground as the electrical current passed through him, his hair starting to smoke. The smell of charred flesh was terrible. Then Greywolf was still, his final hunt come to an end.

"Well, that's that…" Zaerini started to say. And then she saw a lightning bolt coming towards her at full speed from where it had bounced against a rock. "DUCK!" she screamed and then followed her own advice. Her companions all threw themselves to the ground and the lightning bolt passed harmlessly above them to set a small tree on fire. Once the adventurers made it onto their shaky legs once more there was a short moment of silence during which only the crackling sounds of the burning tree could be heard. Greywolf's corpse was still smoking quietly on the ground. 

"As novel an experience as that was", Edwin said in a highly sarcastic voice, "next time I would appreciate it if you could take care to actually aim that thing and above all not to use it where it can fire back at us. (She's going to get me killed. I know it. And we haven't even progressed beyond basic spellcasting yet.)"

"Oh, put a cork in it", Zaerini said, feeling a little irritable. "It's your fault. You never told me the lightning would bounce. You're my instructor. You could try being a little more supportive." She blew at the smoking end of the wand and watched the thin trail of smoke evaporate. 

"Supportive? If I was any more supportive I'd be carrying you on my back."

"Fine by me."

"Fine!"

"Fine!"

"Uh, guys", Imoen interrupted. "I think you should take a look at this."

Prism had slumped to the ground after placing two more emeralds within the empty sockets of his masterpiece. Now he was stretched out on the ground, his eyes fixed upon the sculpture's face as his breathing grow more heavy and uneven with every minute. "Alas, my work is complete", he gasped, his voice now a feeble croak. "Take what you will from my possessions but leave the sparkle in her eyes. O sweet creature, My effigy to thee is done. Perhaps our paths shall cross in distant Realms, and I shall find the courage to call thy name. Ellesime!" A single sigh passed between his lips and his eyes glazed over with death. 

"What a very sad end", Jaheira said, her voice regretful. 

"Sad?" Edwin said. "I call it a pathetic one. The man was an obsessive fool, too blind to know when to abandon his mad project and return to reality. Such behavior is despicably idiotic." He sounded unusually vehement. 

"I don't know…" Rini said. "He was an artist. At least he died knowing his grandest work was complete. I…understand that, I guess." She found two more emeralds on the dead body and pocketed them along with the sculpture of her familiar. Then she turned to Greywolf's corpse. That sword had looked very interesting. It was a beautiful weapon, cold to her touch, sharp and deadly. It almost seemed to call out to her. 

"C-careful", Khalid warned. "It l-looks magical. You don't know what it d-does."

"But I do…" Zaerini whispered. The blade sang, a story of death, of betrayal, and of vengeance. "Varscona", the half-elf said. "Her name is Varscona. And she is mine." She knew that it was true, knew it without knowing how. The sword cried for revenge, revenge against those who had killed she who was once its wielder, she who had been buried with it stuck through her chest. _Well, they are long gone_ , Zaerini thought. _You can help me with my revenge instead_. She removed her old sword from her scabbard and sheathed Varscona instead. The metal of the old weapon was cracking, she noticed. It would likely have broken like a dried twig soon, possibly costing her life. Varscona wouldn't break. She might even be strong enough to pierce the spiked armor of Gorion's murderer and bury herself within another chest. 

"Let's go", Rini said. "I say we head back towards the mines now. There don't seem to be any dangerous monsters about here that could explain all the troubles. I suppose we're going to have to look inside. But before we go too far I want us to have that little talk we agreed upon, Jaheira."

The druid nodded. "Very well", she said, and gave the two dead men an uncomfortable look. "But not in this place. There is too much death about, and the tale is grim enough without it. Let us move away a little. Then there will be time to talk."

The woods were still and quiet, even the birds drowsy in the midday sun. The sun was high in the sky, penetrating to the soft and mossy ground beneath the trees only in speckled patterns of light and shadow, reminiscent of the fur of a leopard. It was a beautiful day, calm and peaceful, and yet Khalid felt as if dark thunderclouds were gathering on the horizon, just out of sight. That he could have dealt with, but he feared that the storm about to break loose was going to be worse than any mere change in weather. 

The adventurers had paused near the edge of the forest, some distance away from the Nashkel Mines. Jaheira was sitting on a fallen log next to her husband, looking as at home in the wilderness as any dryad. And yet, as Khalid surreptitiously touched her hand, he could feel it tremble slightly. The moment they had been preparing for was upon them, and he could tell that his love was as uneasy about it as he was, though she did a better job of hiding her feelings. 

Khalid wiped his face, certain that his anxiety must be evident for all to see, as it so frequently was. He never had been good at concealing his emotions. As he looked up, he saw Imoen give him a curious look from her perch on a mossy rock, and not for the first time he wondered what had made her dye her hair that shocking shade of pink. Still, it suited her in a way, with her innocently cheerful demeanor. He felt a sudden surge of protectiveness, a desire to keep her out of harm’s way, to keep her from knowing the truth. But it could not be helped. She would never allow them to keep her out of the discussion. 

The half-elven warrior turned his slightly and was surprised to meet the scrutinizing gaze of the Red Wizard. Edwin had remained standing, leaning against a great pine with his arms folded across his chest. He looked intensely concentrated as he watched the others, almost as if he were in the midst of some magical experiment. His face was a motionless mask, but his eyes burned with some suppressed emotion. _He knows_ , Khalid thought. _Maybe not all, but some of it. Or he guesses, at least. Well, there is no help for it now. They will all know in a moment._

Finally, Zaerini. The young half-elf was sitting on the ground, her legs crossed beneath her and her familiar resting in her lap, her chin resting in her hands as if she were a child preparing to listen to a story. _And she is young_ , Khalid thought, _much as she hates to be reminded of it. Her elven blood makes her mature more slowly. But then the…other…may counter that._ He gave the girl what he hoped was a reassuring smile and was gratified to receive one in return. It reminded him of another sunny day, several years ago. He and Jaheira had gone to meet Gorion in Candlekeep and see his young charges for themselves. Zaerini couldn't have been more than six or seven years old, Imoen a couple of years younger. Imoen had been brought in first and easily charmed the two visitors with her sunny smile and happy chattering. Then Gorion had asked one of the servants to send for his foster daughter. The wait had been a long one. Then, just as Khalid had thought he was going to fall asleep with boredom, a fiery red head peeked around the door, a pair of unblinking golden eyes staring suspiciously at the two strangers from beneath her tousled fringe. 

_I didn't do it_ , the half-elven child immediately told her father. _It was an accident, really! I've been framed! Set up! It's a miscarriage of justice!_ Khalid remembered being amazed at such a young child displaying such a large vocabulary. 

Gorion had simply sighed as if he were all too used to similar scenes. _Child_ , he had said, _why don't you tell me your side of the story?_

_Well_ , the child had said, her eyes glittering with remembered mischief, _I was chasing rats with Immy and Dreppin out by the stables when Ulraunt came by looking all stiff and grouchy as usual. He said that I wasn't being 'lady-like' and that there were mousetraps to handle things like that. Then he sort of twitched his fingers and swatted me with a spell_. She rubbed her obviously still aching behind, a highly indignant expression on her young face.

_And…?_

_And then after he fell asleep in his office I sneaked inside and stuffed the pockets of his robes full with mousetraps and put poison ivy in his pouches of spell components_ , Zaerini had said with a proud grin. _Guess that will teach him to keep his fingers to himself, won't it?_

A violent scream of pain had shaken the foundations of the massive library fortress at that precise moment, causing Khalid to wince. Apparently Ulraunt had awakened. 

_We will discuss this later, child_ , Gorion had said. _Now I would like you to come greet our guests._

_H-hello child_ , Khalid had said, taking care to speak in a quiet voice so as not to frighten the child. Assuming this child could get frightened of course. _I am Khalid. W-what is your n-name?_

_Hi!_ The girl smiled again, the expression flashing rapidly across the small face like a sudden lightning bolt. _I'm Rini, and when I grow up I'm gonna be a really great adventurer and go all around the world, and visit other planes, and see pirates, and monsters, and demons, and I'm gonna have a Red Dragon all my own and…_

_Child_ , Jaheira had said, _Red Dragons are incredibly dangerous. I am sure you would not be able to handle one._

_Yes, I would_ , Zaerini had said, sticking her tongue out. _I can if I say so, and he's gonna be my friend, but he's gonna flame you unless you're nice to me_. Then she had stuck her thumbs in her pointed ears, wiggled her fingers in Jaheira's direction and run out of the room, giggling wildly. 

Things hadn't changed all that much since then, Khalid mused. The girl was still contrary and hot-tempered, and Jaheira was still trying to prod her in what she considered to be the right direction, failing more often than not. He had tried to speak with his wife about that being the wrong way to go about things, but Jaheira simply wouldn't listen. She would have to learn by herself then, assuming all went well today. 

"It is as you have already guessed", Jaheira started. "We are Harpers, Khalid and I, and so was Gorion. He was a good man, one of the finest I have known. And so, when he told us a strange and disturbing story we trusted him, though many people would not have."

"Story?" Zaerini asked. "What was this story?"

"I am getting to that. But first I must ask you something. What, if anything, do you know about your parents?"

The bard frowned. "Not much", she said. "Gorion never wanted to speak about them." Her face became very serious. "I know that my mother died as I was born", she said, a small catch to her voice. Imoen immediately moved closer and squeezed her friend's hand, receiving a grateful smile in return. "But Gorion told me nothing else about her, not even her name. I knew that he wasn't my real father, of course, though I always loved him as one. As for who sired me, I have no idea."

Jaheira took a deep breath and hauled something out of her pack. A letter. "Of your mother I know nothing", she said. "I swear it on the Balance itself. As for your father…your biological father…that is the story I was referring to. Gorion told us and made us swear to keep it a secret until he thought you were ready to handle the truth."

Zaerini bit her lower lip anxiously. "Why do I get the feeling I'm not going to like this…", she said in a voice that was trying to sound flippant but couldn't quite keep the fear from seeping through. "All right. Let's hear it." 

For a reply Jaheira simply handed her the letter. "The truth is in there", she said. "You will recognize Gorion's handwriting, I take it? When he knew that you were both in danger, when he decided to leave Candlekeep, he sent that letter to me and Khalid, along with the one arranging for us to meet you at the Friendly Arm. He would have known he might not survive, and if you were forced to flee without him, he wanted us to tell you what we knew, once we judged it prudent to do so."

Zaerini took the letter and unrolled it without saying a word. Then she read it, golden eyes rapidly scanning the page. As she read her face grew as white as a sheet, those eyes the only hint of color within it. Her mouth moved soundlessly for a second, forming unheard words. Then she jumped to her feet. "It's…true", she whispered. "I…I can feel it. I have dreamed it." She laughed quietly, a mirthless and hollow sound. "And here I wondered how come I was so good at killing", she whispered. "Daddy's girl, that's me I guess."

"Rini?" Imoen asked, her voice trembling. "Rini, what's going on? You're scaring me!" The bard simply handed her the short letter without replying. Khalid knew what it said. He had read it enough times to know it by heart.

_Hello Zaerini,_

_If you are reading this, it means I have met an untimely death. I would tell you not to grieve for me, but I feel much better thinking that you would. There are things I must tell you in this letter that I might have told you before. However, if my death came too soon then I would have never been given the chance. First off, I am not your biological father, for that distinction lies with an entity known as Bhaal. The Bhaal that I speak of is the one you know of as a divinity. In the crisis known as the Time of Troubles, when the Gods walked Faerun, Bhaal was also forced into a mortal shell. He was somehow forewarned of the death that awaited him during this time. For reasons unknown to me, he sought out women of every race and forced himself upon them. Your mother was one of those women, and as you know, she died in childbirth. I had been her friend and on occasion, lover. I felt obligated to raise you as my own. I have always thought of you as my child and I hope you still think of me as your father. You are a special child. The blood of the Gods runs through your veins. If you make use of our extensive library you will find that our founder, Alaundo, has many prophecies concerning the coming of the spawn of Bhaal. There are many who will want to use you for their own purposes. One, a man who calls himself Sarevok, is the worst danger. He has studied here at Candlekeep and thus knows a great deal about your history and who you are._

_Gorion_

"So", Zaerini said. "Not just the child of a rape, but the daughter of Bhaal, the daughter of Murder. "No wonder people want me dead. Frankly I'm amazed you haven't tried to kill me already, Jaheira, you being a Harper and all, Gorion or not." She turned to leave. "I…need to be alone for a while", she said. "To…think about things." 

"You should not be on your own", Jaheira said.

"Why?" the bard asked. "Afraid I might kill myself? Or somebody else? Would you like to keep me on a leash, perhaps? Well, that won't happen." She dashed into the forest and disappeared between the trees, raking her arm angrily across her eyes. To clear away unwanted tears, Khalid thought. He wanted to go after her with all his heart, but he feared to do so. In her current state he might very well make things worse. 

_Spawn of Bhaal_ , Zaerini thought. _So that is who I am. What I am_. She lay on her stomach, her face buried in her arms, and she was shaking wildly with silent tears. She recalled the terrible fury that would grip her at times, the bloodlust, the urge to kill. Those assassins back in Candlekeep, the ones she had more or less torn to bits. _The blood of my sire calls out to me. And sometimes…sometimes its song is so sweet, so tempting. Oh, Gorion! Why didn't you tell me? How could you love me? I'm a beast. A monster._

_A monster that he was ready to die for?_ Softpaws seated herself on the half-elf's shoulder, nuzzling her ear. _Must be some monster_.

Rini reflexively reached up and pulled her familiar closer towards her, resting her face against the silky smooth fur. The cat didn't squirm or fuss, but simply gave her an affectionate nudge with a paw. _You are the same as you always were_ , Softpaws said. _Nothing has changed, except that you know more of yourself than you did._

_How can you say that? I'm a Child of Murder!_

_You are my kitten. Cats care not for dead gods, and neither should you. You will be what you want to be, not what your sire was. A cat chooses her own path, remember?_

_I…remember. I've been a fool, haven't I?_

_You are a kitten. Kittens are always foolish. Now let's go back before the others send a search party out._

As Zaerini made herself back to the rest of the group she was immediately assaulted by a sobbing Imoen who flung herself into her arms, giving her a fierce hug.

"Oh Rini!" The human girl looked as if she had been crying as well. "I was so worried! Are you all right?"

"As well as can be expected", Zaerini said, patting her friend's back. "And…you? How do you feel about me…now?"

"How do you suppose I feel", Imoen exclaimed, her blue eyes exasperated. "You're my best friend you dummy! I was worried sick about you!" Then she paused. "Oh, you mean the Bhaal thing. That's not your fault, you know. It's not as if you asked for it. It doesn't make you a bad person, and I'll smack anybody who says otherwise." She gave Jaheira a defiant glare.

"Child, there is no need for that", the druid said. "If I believed your friend to be an evil force I would have acted against her long ago. Mere accident of birth and a tendency to recklessness is not enough to merit that." 

"Y-yes", Khalid said. "And b-besides, we promised Gorion to look after her."

"Thanks, I guess", Zaerini said, feeling comforted by the support. Then she turned to Edwin. "And what of you", she asked. "What is the Thayvian perspective on me being the Child of Murder?"

"It is an interesting concept", the Red Wizard said in a thoughtful voice. "A Child of Murder could become powerful, very powerful indeed. And yet, to have the very fundament of your world shake beneath you… I wonder how I would have reacted had I found out such a thing about myself?"

"Er…excuse me? I was talking about me here? Not you. And while I wouldn't mind power, I don't want to get it by being the puppet of a dead God. His blood is in me, and he's always at the edge of my consciousness, whispering. He wants to control me, and I won't have that."

"Then", Edwin said, "I have only one thing to say. I have always believed that the man who has the raising of a child is that child's true father, no matter who may have sired it. You need not let your blood rule you; you can achieve glory without losing control and be ruled only by your own ambition."

"Yes", Rini said, nodding. "You are right. Bhaal may be my sire, but I have only one father, and his name was Gorion. And now I suspect I have a name to put to his murderer. Sarevok. Gorion named him 'the worst danger'. It has to be him. Whoever he may be, wherever he may be, I'll be coming for him. And when I do, he'll regret ever having gone near Candlekeep. But first, I believe we have a mine to investigate."

The entrance to the Nashkel Mine was guarded by two Amnian soldiers, and an irritated-looking man was pacing back in forth in front of them. He turned out to be Emerson, the foreman of the mines. 

"Well I see no harm", he said once Zaerini had explained her intentions. "Indeed, we could be using the help. There be problems in the lower level, where we lost some workers. The men talk of things a-movin below, but who's to say. The earth, she hides many things from sight."

"Yes", Rini said. "But I think I'm in a mind to excavate them. I'll see you later."

"Cocky, aren't you? You shouldn't be. Another group of adventurers went down here only yesterday, and they haven't come back yet."

"Other adventurers?" Jaheira asked. "Who were they? What did they look like?"

"One of 'em was a mage, a twitchy fella with the ugliest tattoo I ever saw. Kept talking nonsense. Then there was a halfling. Nasty little thing. Not as nasty as the third one though. Great big lumbering thing. Kept himself well hidden under his cloak, so's I couldn't see his face, but he smelled real bad. Sound familiar?"

"I'm afraid so", Zaerini said. "At least the first two. And as far as I know really bad things always come in threes, so I'm not about to get my hopes up about their friend. Still, nothing we can do about it." She turned to her companions. "Right", she said. "Let's move in."


	11. Yipping Demons

**In The Cards 11 - Yipping Demons**

_An adventurer should always expect the unexpected. If a kindly old wizard offers to do you a favor he could well be a demon lord out to trick you into bargaining your soul away. On the contrary, a hideous giant may turn out to be friendly and peace-loving. Take all rumors with a large pinch of salt. If there's any truth to them it's usually been twisted into an entirely new shape, repainted and fitted with a new name. Of course, if you always expect the unexpected that means the unexpected becomes expected, and so the point is moot anyway. One way or another, you're going to get screwed by the Powers That Be. Get used to it._

_Excerpt from 'Ruminations Of A Master Bard'_

The air down here had a peculiar smell to it, Zaerini thought. It wasn't dusty, exactly, but it carried the smell of dust, and yet it was damp at the same time. Passageways and mineshafts spiraled out in every direction from the central area where the miners kept their equipment. It was a good thing Jaheira had a good sense of inborn direction or they would probably all have been hopelessly lost. To Rini just about every dark corridor looked the same. Wooden beams propping the roof up, mine-carts carrying ore, stone walls pressing in on her heavily. The air wasn't all that bad, but it still felt difficult to breathe.

"Oooh", I don't like this, Imoen whispered, echoing Rini's own thoughts. "It's creepy."

"More importantly, it's damp", Edwin said. He shivered and pulled his robes closer around him. "If I catch my death down here somebody is going to pay for it. (With their lives, most likely, and serve them right too.)

_The wizard is right_ , Softpaws said as she skirted a trickle of water on the floor with a disgusted flick of her tail. _The darkness is nice, but cats and wet-cold don't mix well._

It was rather cold, Zaerini agreed. She didn't know how the miners could stand it. Probably they didn't have much choice if they wanted to keep supporting their families. The men she'd talked to so far all carried a sense of suppressed dread about them, an ever-present fear. It was in the way their eyes constantly darted around to the deep shadows in the corners, as if they expected something to leap out at them. It was in the sour smell of their sweat and in the way they would sometimes start and shudder at the sound of a pebble being knocked across the floor or of a boot scraping against a rock. Whatever was down these mines had them badly demoralized. 

From what Rini had managed to learn so far, the miners didn't know very much, except that many of their comrades had disappeared down the lower levels of the mines, disappeared without a trace. There were guards posted down there now, but still the danger was great. What it consisted of they did not know. Demons were mentioned, as were dragons, but it was all speculation. As for the iron ore it had become contaminated some time ago, and now everything brought up of the mines was brittle and would break easily. It was a curse for which the miners had no explanation. Zaerini had picked up some iron off a cart. It was black and fragile, and it crumbled to fine dust between her fingers. Suddenly she was very glad that Varscona was hanging at her side rather than some ordinary sword made from iron out of this place.

Another miner approached, his head moving nervously from side to side as he tried to pick out sudden movements within the shadows. "A visitor!", he exclaimed. "Oh, glorious day. We don't get many down here as you can imagine. Are you going to be going down into the mines? If so, could you return this dagger to Kylee? He dropped it when he went into the mine the other day and I haven't seen him since."

"Sure", Rini said, thinking to herself that she wouldn't be surprised if this 'Kylee' was already wormfood. "If I see him, I'll return his dagger." She put the simple weapon in her pack. "Say, have you been down to the lower levels yourself lately? Do you know anything about what's down there?"

The man shuddered. "Don't know", he said. "Don't want to know. I've heard strange noises in the dark, inhuman noises if you catch my drift. Could well be demons if you ask me." He got a haunted look in his eyes. "The other day, I was down there with my mate Dalak. He just went back a little way up a passage to check a support beam. Then I heard…I heard him screaming. Terrible, terrible screams, and laughter mixed with them. Yipping laughter, like a pack of small dogs would make."

"Go on", Zaerini said, listening intently. She had a feeling she knew what was coming. 

"I…I ran to get the guards. It couldn't have taken more than five minutes. But when we got back to Dalak he was…he was…" The man was grey in the face by now, consumed with horror as he relived the terrible memory. "He'd been torn to pieces. You…you couldn't even tell that he was human anymore, his face was…was…"

"Yes, I get the picture", Rini said hurriedly. Imoen was looking rather pale herself and the half-elf had no particular wish to let her friend get exposed to the more gruesome details. "Can you tell us the way to the next level of the mine?"

"That way", the miner said, pointing. "Just…just be careful, you hear me? You don't want to wind up like poor Dalak. Watch out for the demons." He shuddered again and walked off.

"Well", Zaerini said to her companions. "What do you think of that?"

"The man was genuinely frightened", Jaheira said. "He was telling the truth."

"As he saw it, perhaps", Edwin said. "Why would demons want to move in here?" He gestured in the direction of the dripping walls. "Or dragons, for that matter. It isn't as if it's a mithril mine. (Pity, that. With the miners so easily frightened, picking up a few loose pieces would have been child's play.)

"I j-j-just want t-to get this o-o-over with", Khalid stuttered, looking almost as nervous as the miner had. 

"Me too", Imoen agreed. 

"Well, I suppose we'll just have to be careful", Zaerini said, nodding her head towards the dark passage leading downwards. "Shall we?"

The passage sloped downwards, ever downwards. Zaerini wondered whether she might wind up on the other side on the world eventually. She could almost feel the massive weight of all the rocks above her, pressing down on her head, threatening to crush her. "I don't think I like caves and tunnels very much", she whispered. "It's not as if I'm a dwarf, after all."

"Yes", Edwin said. "Unfortunately, very few adventurers get to have adventures situated in pleasant meadows or on the beach. It's always tunnels, caves, dungeons or cellars, it seems."

"Pity", Imoen said. "I wouldn't mind a sunny beach adventure myself right now. I think I'm gonna catch a c…c…cold." Then she sneezed, a loud and trumpeting sound that echoed through the semi-lit hallways. The party had reached the bottom of the passage now and stood in a small hall with tunnels leading off in different directions. After the echoing sneeze had died out there came responding sounds from all directions. Laughter. Yipping, barking laughter, from a multitude of small throats. "Ooops…", Imoen said, looking embarrassed. 

"Fool girl!" Edwin snapped. "Why don't you go ring the doorbell while you're at it?"

Imoen didn't have the time to respond. An entirely human scream came from one of the passages now, a scream of mortal terror. Then a man emerged, another miner. He was torn and bleeding from many wounds, and his eyes were wild and crazed. As he saw the adventurers, he frantically headed towards them. "They're coming-- The yipping demons, they're everywhere! Save me!"

"P-please, just c-calm down", Khalid said. "Everything's g-going to b-be okay." His voice didn't sound very calm and collected however, and the miner couldn't help but notice this.

"But I-- There they are! There they--" Then he screamed again, a low and gurgling moan, and crumbled to the ground, resembling a child's doll thrown away after the play is done. Several arrows pierced his body. Jaheira swore and hurried to the man's side, but almost immediately shook her head, indicating that nothing could be done. And then the 'yipping demons' themselves emerged from the darkness, an entire swarm of them.

The creatures were small, barely three feet high, dark in color and dressed mostly in dirty red or orange. Tiny red eyes glittered in the darkness like a swarm of malevolent fireflies, and they had horns on their heads, sharp white horns, as well as hairless tails resembling those of a rat. They yipped furiously as they rushed the party, some of them firing more arrows, others wielding short swords or spiked clubs. 

"K-kobolds!" Khalid cried out, drawing his sword. Jaheira hurriedly chanted a spell and pale moss and lichen shot out of the walls and floor, enlarged to a size far exceeding their normal one. The suddenly thick vegetation trapped a great part of the kobold horde, leaving them vulnerable to Imoen's arrows. Edwin was busy casting a spell of his own, one that Rini hadn't heard before. Suddenly a large ball of flame shot from his open palm, neatly immolating the trapped kobolds. Unfortunately, the spreading ring of fire was close enough that the half-elf felt it singe her skin. "Will you watch it?" she screamed before letting fly a spell of her own, a magic missile that instantly killed a particularly large and ugly kobold that had been trying to bite her in the legs. Edwin didn't answer. He was too busy casting, more magic missiles to take out the kobold archers. Meanwhile Khalid and Jaheira dealt with the kobolds that had managed to get past the trap of entangling plants. In a few more moments most of the kobolds lay dead, and the rest had fled, their yipping cries now plaintive as they ran off into the dark tunnels once more.

"Well, that was a new strategy", Rini said once Jaheira had finished healing the small scorch mark on her cheek. She felt extremely lucky it hadn't been worse. That didn't mean she was going to let Edwin off easily, however. "Tell me Eddie, what exactly were you trying to prove by almost burning me to a crisp? Was that some new and wonderful tactic known only in Thay? I'm dying to know. In fact, I almost did."

For a brief moment the Red Wizard looked rather defensive, almost guilty. Then the expression was quickly replaced by his customary air of extreme arrogance. "I would have expected anybody daring to call themselves a spellcaster to be familiar with the words and gestures of the Fireball spell", he said with a haughty look. "If you are too ignorant to know when to take a step backwards that is hardly my fault. (In fact, it may be considered evolution at work. The clever survive, the fools get roasted.)"

"Oh, really? Well, I think you're just making excuses for having a bad aim. You probably couldn't hit the broad side of a barn even in full daylight."

"Yes, I could!" Edwin sounded highly indignant. "I happen to have excellent aim and I'll prove it to you. Just tell me who or what to hit and you'll see."

"Really?"

"Really!"

"Fine", Rini said, pointing at a small rock outcropping a goodly distance away. It was so small that it was almost invisible, even to her enhanced sight. It might not be fair to pick a target that difficult, but she was furious enough not to care. "Prove it!"

"Fine!" Edwin sneered. "A task almost insultingly easy for my prowess. (A live target would have been much more challenging.)" He flexed his hands, preparing to launch the spell. 

"H-hold on a m-m-minute", Khalid protested. "I t-think you ought to b-be more careful…"

It was already too late. Edwin cast the spell, a small blue ball of pure force that slammed into the rock he had aimed for, hitting it square on the base. There was a rumbling, groaning sound from above. "Oh no…", the Red Wizard whispered. Then the roof came crashing down on top of them.

"Look out!" Zaerini cried and covered her head with her arms to try to protect it from the hail of rocks as she ran for safety. Eventually the stones stopped falling and the half-elf rapidly turned to see if anybody had been injured. Minor scrapes and wounds were present here and there, nothing that seemed to be serious for the most part. Edwin was leaning heavily against the wall though. He had a hand pressed to his temple which seemed to be bleeding rather badly, and his eyes were dazed. 

_Damn!_ The half-elf didn't stop to think. She simply scrambled across the fallen rocks to get to the wizard and grabbed his arm with one hand to steady him, placing the palm of her other hand against the wound. _Don't you die on me, wizard, or I'll…or I'll never forgive you_ The blood was hot against her hand and deep within her something reveled at the touch. _Get back into your hole, 'Daddy'_ , Zaerini thought with disgust. _You're not invited. I'll take your 'present' though._ And she reached deep inside herself, reached for that part of her that was other and more than mortal. A small surge of power flowed out through her arm and she could feel the wound close beneath her hand as the healing spell took hold, leaving unmarred skin behind.

"I'm sorry", Zaerini whispered. "I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have let you cast that spell in here, I should have known better…" Immediately she mused that actually preventing Edwin from doing something he really wanted to do would likely take not only an iron will and nerves of steel but an ability to be in two places at once. Possibly even three. The Red Wizard seemed to be of the same opinion.

"Nobody…keeps Edwin Odesseiron from doing what…he wishes", Edwin said. He winced a little as the spell took hold. "Well, mostly nobody." Then he paused and cleared his throat. "I…think that perhaps my aim was just a little bit off with that Fireball before. I will…correct that the next time." He looked sincere as he said it, and Rini knew that it likely was the closest thing to an apology that she was going to get.

"That's good", she said with a warm smile, showing that she had got the message. "I didn't really think you wanted to charbroil me, anyway."

"Ahem", Jaheira said, her voice startling both the spellcasters and causing them to jump. "If you two are finished I would like to check you both for further injuries." 

With a start Rini realized that she was still holding on to Edwin, her hand resting lightly against his cheek. She hastily moved it aside and tried to look casual. She wasn't sure whether she succeeded, and from the embarrassed look on the wizard's face she could tell that he felt equally mortified. "Ah, yes…", Zaerini said, knowing the kind of picture they must have presented and also guessing that her face was as red as her hair. "I was just…er…helping."

"Of course," Jaheira said, an unreadable look on her face. "Now move aside, child, and let me do my work." 

_I think it looked rather sweet_ , Softpaws said.

_What do you mean 'sweet'?! I'm not 'sweet'. Never have been, never will be._

_If you say so, kitten_. There was an amused glitter in the cat's clear green eyes. 

"Well, that is that", Jaheira said. "You both seem to be mostly all right, except for having reckless streaks wide enough that you could drive a cart along them. Please try not to bring the roof down on us again and we may yet survive this." 

"Let's just change the subject, OK?" Rini said hurriedly. She took a closer look at the fallen rocks. They mostly obscured the passage through which the party had entered, blocking it almost completely. She thought the rocks could probably be cleared away with the proper tools. Unfortunately, she didn't have them. "There are still supposed to be miners down here", she said. "They'll be able to deal with this, I'm sure. It must have happened before." Then she set off down the closest tunnel, not looking back. For some reason she was still feeling confused, and a little annoyed. With Jaheira mostly, but with herself as well. There really hadn't been a reason to blush like that. It wasn't as if she'd been doing anything that wasn't perfectly innocent, after all. 

The tunnel eventually led the adventurers to a fairly large cavern, where the surviving miners and soldiers were to be found. There didn't seem to be much work going on, but Zaerini could understand why, seeing that she had had to deal with a few more kobolds on the way. The workers were afraid to venture out, and justly so. After a little asking around she found the man named Kylee, who turned out to be the foreman of this group. Properly grateful for the return of his dagger he volunteered some information as payment for it.

"Kobolds!", he said. "They're overrunning the place piece by piece. We used to see them occasionally but now you can't go more than a few feet without kicking one of them on the lower levels. It's not so bad up here with the guards around. Still, I wouldn't get caught in the dark if I were you. These last few days have been the worst so far."

"There are lower levels still?" Zaerini asked, feeling a little dismayed.

"Oh yes. One more, where the mineshafts open up into a natural cave system. That may be where the little buggers are coming from, though that doesn't explain why we never saw them before. It's almost as if they decided to move in all of a sudden."

Having asked for the closest way to the next level of the mine Rini told Kylee about the cave-in, without giving him too many details about how it had come about. The miner told her that it shouldn't be a problem to clear the way, though it would take some time. Also, it would take longer than usual since they would need to set guards against the kobolds and work more slowly than they otherwise would. 

"Well, that's not really a problem, is it?" Imoen asked. The human girl's vividly pink hair made her look even more pixie-like than before, but her new black bodysuit contradicted that impression, making her look almost at home in the gloom. "We're not going back yet anyway."

"No", Zaerini said. "But I don't think we'll be going forward just yet either. We've been walking for several hours already. I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm both hungry and tired. This is a safe place what with all these guards, so I say we take this chance to rest."

"Not a completely unintelligent idea", Edwin said. "I need to renew my spells anyway. (Though I'm sure you didn't think about that, being a mere dilettante in the Art. Such a waste.)"

"Yes, I did, actually. And I want to do another reading as well."

At this comment Imoen stiffened. "I don't know if you should", she said. "Remember last time? The voice that talked to you?" She lowered her voice to an almost inaudible whisper. "Suppose that was…you know…him?"

"H-him?" Khalid asked in a trembling voice at the same time as Edwin said "Reading?". The wizard sounded very fascinated and his eyes narrowed with excitement.

"Would you care to explain yourself some more?" Jaheira asked with a frown. "What is this 'reading' that you speak of?"

Zaerini motioned for her companions to step aside into a corner of the cavern, far enough away that the miners couldn't hear them. Then she explained about her card readings, and how lately they had changed from a simple game into something much more. "The same way that I seem to be changing", she said in a serious voice, her face very pale and tense. "And now that I know of my…of my sire…I think I can guess why. It's his blood in my veins, and it's expressing itself like this. The things I see in the cards come true, or at least many of them seem to do so. Though I don't always know what they mean, so I may have missed much."

"How very interesting", Edwin said, and for once he didn't sound the least bit sarcastic. The Red Wizard had listened eagerly to every word she said, wholly absorbed by the story. _Well, he would be_ , Rini thought. _It is a sort of magic, after all._ "It resembles ordinary divination", Edwin said. In the flickering torch-light shadows played across his face, giving him a somewhat sinister appearance. "Yes, it resembles divination. Not my chosen field of course (given that it is dull, boring and frequently unreliable). Yet you cast no spell to achieve it. Intriguing, to be sure. I should very like much to discuss it with my…colleagues. Perhaps we could help you?"

"Help her?" Jaheira scoffed. The druid was sitting on the floor with her legs crossed, the scimitar that she had got from the Ogre Mage resting across her lap. She had volunteered to take the first watch. "By drawing her into your intrigues? The Red Wizards are hardly known for their selflessness."

"And the Harpers are hardly known for their relaxed attitude towards 'evildoers'. Tell me druid, what will you do on the day they decide that she has grown too dangerous? Cut her down to keep your precious 'balance'? Or simply let her fend for herself?"

"The Harpers would never…"

"Oh, wouldn't they?" Edwin gave the druid a satisfied smirk. "The Harpers aren't above using assassins you know, when they think it necessary. Which is more often than one might guess. Yes, they can be very pragmatic about that sort of thing. (I could almost respect them if it wasn't for the hypocrisy of it all.)"

"How…how do you…"

"Never mind. Let's just say I consider knowledge a most valuable treasure. (I will leave the roots, twigs and dirt to play with for those who are so inclined.)"

Jaheira looked extremely troubled. "Zaerini", she said, "I do not know what makes the wizard say such things, except perhaps that his head may still be swollen from that knock it got earlier. The Harpers as I know them have always been good and just, and you should have nothing to fear from them as long as you give them no cause to think you a source of evil."

"That's just it, isn't it though?" Rini said with a shrug. "They seem to want to make up the rules of the game themselves, and for everybody else to just play along. But there are no Harpers or Red Wizards down here at least, except for you two. Unless you're planning to slit my throat as I sleep, I'm going to save those worries for another day. So, if nobody has any further objections, I'm going to see what I can find out about this whole iron poison mess." She fetched her deck of cards out of her pack and spread her cloak out on the ground to keep them from getting wet or dirty. Then she carefully shuffled the cards and laid them out for the reading, focusing on her purpose. _The mines_ , she thought. _Show me the root of the problem, the secret of the mines. And show me also what else I may need to know of the future, in any way available._

Zaerini studied the cards carefully, her golden eyes intent on the painted pictures. She was vaguely aware of the silent circle of her companions surrounding her, seated to guard her against danger or disturbance, but they faded into vague shadows on the edge of her awareness. The cards were all that mattered. The cards were…all…

There was the One of Swords, crossed by the Serpent. Then the Priest of Swords, with the Beast behind it. Behind that one the Knight of Swords, almost entirely hidden by shadows. Finally, Death.

Once again, the cards seemed to move and twist, to take on a life of their own. Zaerini felt herself sinking, sinking deep into the earth, past rock and stone and into the depths of the mine. The One of Swords spun before her, a shining blade fresh from the smithy, strong and keen. Then a hiss from out of the darkness and the Serpent reared high above her, a huge green snake with deadly fangs and glittering scales. Deadly venom dripped from its powerful jaws and she took a hurried step back. The venom narrowly missed her, landing instead on the spinning sword. Shiny metal blackened and hissed, curling in upon itself as the lethal poison carried out its work. Eventually nothing was left but the hilt of the Sword, which fell useless to the ground at Zaerini's feet with an empty clang.

The Serpent hissed again and almost seemed to smile. Then it glowed brightly for an instant and started shrinking, rapidly diminishing into a snake of ordinary size. The animal quietly slipped away across the cold stone floor and was picked up by a hand, a powerful and hairy hand. The hand in turn belonged to a broad and muscular figure wearing the ceremonial robes of a priest, black robes. There was a symbol on those robes, but Rini couldn't make it out. It kept changing, flickering back and forth too rapidly for her to make out, and she didn't think the Priest knew that he served two different Masters. 

Laughter, deep grunting laughter, confirmed her suspicions as the Priest bowed before another figure. A great Beast, almost twice as large as an Ogre, with long tusks and cunning eyes. Skulls dangled from its belt, and out of the darkness following it screams could be heard, screams for mercy that were quickly silenced but then began anew. The Beast chuckled again, and the clang of swords could be heard, arrows buzzing through the air and more screaming, the screaming of people and animals in terrible pain. Then all went silent.

Zaerini turned her head, dreading what she would see now, yet feeling a strange anticipation at the same time, a feeling of…connection? The Knight of Swords. He stood there, in the same spot where the now vanished Beast had been mere seconds before. The dark and spiky armor, the tall and powerful build, the helmet that obscured all of his features except the eyes. Those eyes, glowing like furnaces, burning their way into her soul. She couldn't look away from them, and then she knew him, not only from her memories but from Gorion's dire warning. _The worst danger. Sarevok. His name…is Sarevok_. As if in answer to her unspoken thought the armored figure raised his sword, raised it in a mocking greeting. "Little One…", he said, and words that sounded almost like an endearment carried with them the threat of violent death. "I look forward to meeting you…again." He laughed then, a deep and hearty laugh that was rich with malice. 

Zaerini stood frozen in one spot, unable to think of a single thing to say, too afraid even to breathe. And then she saw something. Something about Sarevok, something of which the warrior himself seemed curiously unaware. Threads. Thin threads, like almost invisible strings connected to his head, to his arms and his legs. They looked as fragile as a spider's weavings, but she knew better, somehow, she knew that they were as strong as steel. They disappeared up, high up into the darkness above, but there was somebody waiting up there, hiding. Somebody pulling the strings. She craned her head backwards, trying to see better. And then she saw, and she screamed as she saw the Skull of Death hanging above both her and Sarevok like an evil white moon, laughing at them both.

YES, Death spoke. FIGHT, FIGHT AS YOU WILL. DESTROY HIM IF YOU CAN, DAUGHTER, OR BE DESTROYED BY HIM IN TURN. IT MATTERS NOT. EITHER WAY YOU SHALL SERVE ME. YOU SHALL BOTH SERVE ME.

"No!", Rini gasped, staring wildly around herself as the vision receded. "I won't! I won't serve you!"

_Kitten?_ Softpaws sounded very anxious, and as the black cat settled herself into Zaerini's lap the half-elf could feel her familiar's fur standing on edge. _Kitten, are you well?_

_I am…Mostly._ The bard stroked the black fur, relaxing into the comforting sensation. 

"Rini?" Imoen sounded equally anxious as the familiar, and the bard tried to give her friend a reassuring smile. "What…did you see?"

Zaerini thought for a moment. Then she raked her hand through her red hair as she tried to make sense of the wild images that still swirled through her mind. "The kobolds aren't the only danger of these mines", she said. "There is something else, some other creature, and the poison that destroys the iron comes from him." 

"It makes sense", Jaheira said, considering. "Kobolds do not usually tend to be all that intelligent. Can you tell what sort of creature this may be?"

"No. Except I think he's some sort of priest."

"No big surprise there", Edwin sneered. "Only a fanatic would want to live down a dank hole like this. Somebody not used to thinking for himself."

"Faith is the Gods' gift to us all", Jaheira flung back at him with an angry glare.

"No, actually it's the gods' crutch for those who get warm and fuzzy feelings from somebody ordering them about and telling them what to think. (Poor pawns, so easily guided.)"

"Ahem", Rini said, intervening before the furious druid tried to chop Edwin into tiny wizard pieces. "I wasn't finished, you know."

"P-p-please g-go on", Khalid said, laying a calming hand on his wife's arm to keep her from going for her scimitar.

"I saw Sarevok", Zaerini said in a hard voice. She didn't know it herself, but for an instant her eyes flashed with the same unearthly light as those of the warrior she had just named. 

"That's the name from Gorion's letter…" Imoen said.

"Yes. And it's the name of Gorion's murderer as well. He's behind this iron crisis as well, I can bet my life on it. The cards hint at it." Her mouth set in a determined line. "I need to get to the bottom of this", she said. "I need to find Sarevok."

"And kill him", Edwin said. It wasn't a question, more of a calm and businesslike statement. 

"I…still want to", Rini said. The memory of triumphant laughter rang in her ears, the laughter of Bhaal. "But…no, I will not speak of it right now. Time enough for that." _Was it true, I wonder? Is the mighty Sarevok a puppet, a puppet unaware of his invisible strings? Or is it a trick, designed to fool me?_ No answers were forthcoming, and so she curled up in her cloak, trying to get some rest, listening to her companions settling down around her. After a while she drifted into an uneasy sleep. And there, on the border of her dreams a dark voice called out for her from beyond a deep chasm of time and distance. "Little One…" it said, at the same time threatening and intimate, strange and…familiar.

Having rested themselves the party moved steadily deeper into the mines. There were no miners around now, the tunnels lay dark and empty around them except for the kobolds. There seemed to be an increasing number of those, though. The ones which carried fire arrows were even worse than the others, stronger, faster, and quite dangerous. The few arrows that Zaerini and Imoen managed to find on their corpses didn't quite make up for the annoyance of having to creep along the tunnel at a near crawl so as not to get surprised by them.

"I'm really getting sick and tired of these things", Rini said and kicked a dead kobold off her blade. To her delight she had noticed that Varscona was more than a very sharp sword. It also carried some sort of permanent cold magic that served to further damage whatever it struck. Since she wasn't some biceps-bulging, warcry-shouting warrior lady she figured she could use all the help she could get in combat.

"I agree", Jaheira said. "It will be good to feel the sun once again."

"And to sleep in a proper bed", Edwin said wistfully. "I still have a crick in my back from that cave floor."

"I could easily cure that, wizard. Just lie down on your face and allow me to walk all over you. Your spine will be popping in no time."

"No, thank you, druid. With all the food you stuffed into your face earlier I fear I might get squashed flat. Tell me, when did your desire to be one with nature make you decide to turn into a hippopotamus?"

Jaheira's eyes were almost bulging at this impertinent comment. "Are you saying that I am fat?" she asked.

"No, of course not."

"Well, that is…"

"For a hippopotamus you are very shapely. Slim, even. (Particularly in the intellectual department. That is positively malnourished.)" The last comment was accompanied by a cold smile.

Jaheira was rapidly going purple in the face and even the mild-mannered Khalid was starting to reach for his sword, while stuttering too badly for any proper words to emerge. Fortunately, Imoen chose that moment to speak up.

"Hey, guys", the young thief said. "Look what I found!" She held out a small bottle made from dark glass. "One of the kobolds was carrying it around." Imoen pointed vaguely at the pile of dead creatures at the adventurers' feet. 

"Hm", Zaerini said as she inspected the find. "I suspect I know what this is." She picked up one of the dead kobolds' swords and poured a few drops of a sickly yellow substance from the bottle and onto the blade. Immediately the metal darkened and cracked slightly. "Yep. This is what's been poisoning the mines." The bard carefully screwed the lid back on the bottle and stuffed it inside her pack.

"W-what are you g-going to do with that?" Khalid asked, his anger forgotten. 

"Oh, it might come in handy one of these days. You never know."

"Yes", Edwin agreed, actually looking approving. "The importance of a good poison, or for that matter potion, should never be underestimated. They can be used in so many creative ways. (I suddenly recall this particularly useful one containing asphodel and wormwood, among other things. Very interesting lesson, that was, even if my cauldron unexpectedly exploded. And I still fail to see why it should make such a great difference whether the potion is shaken or stirred.)"

"I just bet", Rini said. She closed her pack again and started walking down the stairs that made up the end of this particular tunnel. "And I can't wait to find out who's being creative down this mine."

As the adventurers emerged at the bottom of the stairs, they found themselves in - another tunnel. Zaerini didn't know why she was surprised. It wasn't as if she'd really been expecting a dark and snowy forest or an enchanted castle. There were just rocky walls, rocky floor, a few abandoned tools here and there… Nothing exciting.

"Oh, look!" Imoen explained. "I found a pretty ring." She held it up, a plain ring made from green stone. "It was just lying on the floor. Say, it has an inscription inside. 'For Joseph'. Think we should try to find him?"

"I think that would be an enormous waste of time", Edwin commented as he bent over something on the floor.

"Why?"

"Because unless I am very much mistaken, he won't be needing it anymore." Rini looked over his shoulder and then immediately wished that she hadn't. There was a severed human hand on the floor, looking for all the world like a dead spider, pale and sickly, with fingers reaching helplessly into the air like legs. The ring-finger had been bitten clear off, probably one of the kobolds had done so in order to get the ring off and then managed to drop it anyway. 

"Right…" Zaerini said, swallowing heavily. "Let's just go."

"Of course", Edwin remarked, "he might just be alive, sitting by the fireplace and telling his admiring neighbors the entire story about 'Joseph One-Hand And The Ring Of Stone'. (Though I wouldn't bet so much as a stale turnip on that.)"

"I said all right! Are you trying to make me lose my lunch?"

"Well, at least it would be better than what Joseph lost… (Though I might be able to use it for research, and certainly for spell components… If I ever get my hands on a 'Finger Of Death' scroll it should be perfect.)"

Imoen immediately clamped her hands across her mouth and Khalid and Jaheira both viewed the wizard with identical expressions of shock and disgust.

"What?" Edwin asked, sounding genuinely surprised at their reaction. "He's dead. It isn't as if he will miss it."

"Maybe", Zaerini said with a shake of her head, "but it's already starting to stink. I don't want it attracting every single carrion-eater around. Just leave it be, would you? We'll go shopping for spell components later, I need some too."

Edwin sighed and tossed the hand aside. "Is there nobody around here who appreciates a scientific approach?" he complained.

The mine-tunnels gradually turned into natural caves and passages. Sometimes it was necessary to squeeze between rocks so tight that you hardly dared breathe in for fear of getting stuck. There were no torches around here either, since the mines themselves had been left behind. Both the bard and the wizard had conjured up a mage-light each, but they didn't dare more than minimal light for fear of attracting the kobolds. There were even more of them down here, and a nasty ambush from the narrow stone bridge that spanned a dark underground river had already taken its toll. Jaheira was completely out of healing spells, and they didn't dare rest here to gain some new ones. True, they still had a couple of healing potions left, but those had to be saved for a real emergency.

_I never knew there could be this many kobolds in one place without them tearing each other to pieces, Zaerini thought. Where did they all come from, I wonder? They can't have been here before, or the miners would have known._

"More kobolds up ahead", Imoen whispered in a low voice as she came slipping out of the shadows around a corner. She had pulled up her hood to keep her pink hair temporarily hidden, and that really made a difference to her skill as a scout. Rini felt honest pleasure in seeing her friend's newfound confidence and ability to move quietly. 

"How many?" Jaheira asked.

"At least two dozen", Imoen answered. "Maybe more. And it gets worse."

"O-of course", Khalid said in a gloomy voice. "I-i-it always s-seems to d-do that once you get d-deeper into this s-sort of place…"

"Some of them had those nasty fire arrows", Imoen continued. "I could see them glowing in the dark. And there was a wizard as well. He had a magelight of his own, and he was the one giving the orders."

"I don't like that sort of odds", Zaerini said and shook her head. "If we just charge them, we'll be reduced to pincushions before we can say 'fire-arrow'. And that's not even counting the wizard."

"Then let us by all means abandon the brawn and start using the brain", Edwin said. "Advice only applicable on those of us who have one of course."

"Meaning what, exactly?"

"Meaning that I have a plan. A little magic will deal with those beasts easily."

"Easily?" Imoen asked. "Once you get close enough to see them, they'll see you too, and then you'll be looking like a hedgehog in no time."

"I don't think so", Edwin said with a self-satisfied smirk. "Not if you do your part properly, little thief. (Amazing as it seems, she does appear to have acquired some rudiment of skill in the art of stealth lately. Perhaps she can finally be useful.)"

A few minutes later Zaerini found herself hiding behind a rocky outcropping, nervously grasping the Wand of Lightning. Edwin was hiding on the other side of the passage, almost invisible in the darkness since they had both extinguished their magelights. The bard felt a light touch on her arm and felt rather than heard Imoen whisper softly into her ear, giving her instructions on how to aim her shot. Softpaws confirmed those instructions from her vantage point a little further up the passage. Once Imoen had detailed her findings to Edwin as well, both the bard and the Red Wizard prepared themselves, making sure to synchronize their movements. Then they fired blindly into the darkness ahead, going only by Imoen's findings. 

A fireball landed in the middle of the kobold squad, immolating many of the monsters easily. At the same time a lightning bolt took out the kobold wizard before he even had the time to begin a single spell. It bounced back and forth along the walls of the cave where the kobolds had been hiding, killing them in droves. Eventually the shrill screams ended.

_That's it_ , Softpaws reported. _They're all dead._

"I have to admit that was a really clever tactic", Rini said once she had informed her companions of their successful mission.

Edwin preened proudly. "It is exceptionally well suited for a mage and a rogue working in tandem", he said. "Since our little thief now seems able to move without tripping over her own feet, I thought we might as well make her work for a change."

"I was great, wasn't I?" Imoen exclaimed. "Boy, they never even guessed I was close! That was so neat! Can we do it again soon? Say we can, pleeease!"

"That shouldn't be a problem", Rini said with an amused grin. "If there's one thing not in short supply down here it's kobolds."

As it turned out there were no other kobolds in the immediate area. The cave where this group had been hiding turned out to be a guard post of a sort, there were supplies stacked here as well as weapons. An open doorway led further into the mountain. Before the adventurers could approach it Imoen halted them, however. "Hold on a sec", she whispered. "I thought I saw… Yeah. There it is." She went down on her hands and knees and peered closely at the ground. Then she hauled a small dagger out of her belt and cut the almost invisible tripwire that ran along the floor. "Arrow-trap", the rogue informed her friends, pointing at the small hole in the wall where the arrow waited for careless intruders. She then proceeded to disarm two more traps, humming quietly to herself at the same time. Rini watched her friend with some surprise. She hadn't had any idea that Immy had been practicing this much. But it was a welcome revelation, and she made sure to congratulate her friend on her new aptitude, getting a beaming look of pleasure in return.

Once through the door the adventurers moved into a twisting corridor, long and narrow. There were no kobolds to be seen here, nor any other guards. Eventually they could hear the sound of running water and realized that they must be approaching the underground river again. It was a good thing they were approaching so carefully and quietly, or the river might well have drowned out the sound of arguing voices. Zaerini raised her hand in warning, signaling her companions to halt before she carefully peeked around the corner. Then she had to bite herself in the tongue to not give herself away with a gasp of surprise.

There was a large cavern in front of her, and another stone bridge led to a small island in the middle of the river. The island mostly resembled a great big rock, and there was an opening at its base, an opening that seemed to be a door. On the bridge three people stood, having an animated discussion. One of them was a tattooed mage, who was waving his arms angrily at the scowling halfling in front of him. The third was a zombie. There could be no doubt about it, there was the grey and flaking skin, the dull eyes and the heavy smell of death surrounding it. This particular zombie looked recently dead, and from the broad chest to the slack lips Zaerini recognized it all too well. The gaping hole in its forehead was new though.

_Abduh?!_ Zaerini thought. _Wow. He actually looks more intelligent as a zombie_.


	12. Priest of Swords

**In The Cards 12 – Priest of Swords**

_The Priest Of Swords may symbolize an evil deity or his clergy, also oppression and enslavement, of either mind or body. A card to beware._

_Excerpt from 'The Chaltar Deck Of Cards, An Introduction'_

"But Monty", Xzar whined, "why don't we just go inside and have a word with him?" The grotesquely tattooed mage launched a sickly sweet smile at his halfling companion. "Just a friendly little chat about iron." He giggled. "And if he doesn't want to talk, I'll eat his liver with a nice Chianti and some fava beans."

Montaron wasn't amused by his companion's antics. Glaring up at the mad wizard the scruffy halfling sighed with exasperation. "I keep tellin' ye, wizard, that one is dangerous. If we both wanna get back to Zhentil Keep in one piece we'd better make up a better plan before we go inside. I don't trust much in dumb luck when I'm about to go up against an acolyte of the Mad God."

"Mad?" Xzar chuckled, a disturbing gleam in his eyes. "MAD? Those that the gods wish to destroy they first make mad. But what if a god makes himself mad? Oh, glorious madness, pure insanity, portal to uncharted realms! Let us fetch moonlight in pails for our drink and let us taste the flesh of the divine!"

"Maybe later"; Montaron said with a sour twist to his mouth. "Right now, there's this priest of Cyric that we need to deal with, and I don't much fancy tackling him on my own, so could ye just SETTLE DOWN!"

"Ah, but you needn't be alone, Monty", the wizard responded with a knowing smile. "They are always around you know, watching us. The Eyes! The Eyes from Beyond Time! They watch and they watch, and there are mouths as well, whispering, gibbering, screaming for those of us with ears to hear it." He lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Besides, I'm perfectly ready to do battle, as is my new friend here." He patted the arm of the large zombie that waited patiently at his side. "Aren't you, my dear friend?"

"Unnnhhh…" Abduh groaned, his black lips moving sluggishly as what remained of his mind struggled to form the words. "Yeeessss, Massssterrrr…" 

"Goody!" Xzar exclaimed, clapping his hands. "You see, Monty?"

"I don't trust that thing", the halfling thief complained. "We should get rid of it. It's been nothing but trouble so far."

"No! He's mine. He'll behave."

"I hope so. But if it rips the limbs off another miner it's out! We don't need to draw that sort of attention to ourselves."

"Okey Dokey", Xzar said, pouting a little. "But I think you're just being jealous because I've got a new friend… Did I ever tell you about the time I made friends with a jester?"

Montaron made an impatient noise. "What, the freak who giggled all the time and thought he was being persecuted by a giant squirrel?"

"That's right, Monty. He had the right idea, you know. If you don't stop being so gloomy nobody will want to be your friend." The wizard patted his companion on the head with a bright smile. 

"Oh, go suck yer blade…", Montaron grumbled.

Zaerini had heard enough. These two were obviously Zhentarim, the comment about Zhentil Keep said as much. That meant they were even more dangerous than she had guessed when she first met them. So, the Black Network were taking an active interest in investigating the iron crisis? That meant somebody else had to be behind it. And then there was Abduh's current status as an undead, which surprised the half-elf greatly. Well, however he had managed to wind up as an animated undead he was still much the same as he had always been, and she would prefer to avoid his company. 

Unfortunately, her own companions chose that particular moment to approach from behind. As soon as Imoen saw the zombie she gasped loudly. "Abduh?!" she exclaimed in a voice of utter horror. The undead warrior turned his head, lifeless eyes resembling shallow pools in a grey and sagging face. Then the eyes lit up with dull red fire.

"Yoooouuuu!", he said. "You paaay for this!" He poked a meaty finger into the hole decorating his forehead and then paused to sniff and lick the appendage. "I got hole in head 'cos of youuuu!"

"Immy?" Zaerini asked out of the corner of her mouth as she tried to ready her bow without being obvious about it.

"It wasn't me!" Imoen squeaked. "It was…it was a nameless stranger. Yeah. That's who it was."

Meanwhile, Abduh wasn't the only one who was looking upset. Xzar's burning gaze had fixed upon the red-haired half-elf with unnerving intensity. "My scrolls!" he hissed. "My precious scrolls! You stole them! Thief! Thief! Stole them right out of my pockets you did, yes you did!"

"Er…", Rini tried. "Would you believe me if I told you I have an evil twin who keeps doing these terrible things and then tries to blame them on me?"

"No! Thief! Liar! Give me back my scroooolllsssss!" The mad wizard's final word dissolved into an inarticulate hissing noise as his hands started moving in the intricate patterns necessary to cast a spell. 

_Somehow I didn't think you would_ , Zaerini thought. Then she threw herself aside and rolled to the ground as a round object came hurling through the air towards her. It closely resembled a human skull, and it exploded with a bang loud enough to make her ears start ringing. A small piece of shrapnel hit her cheek and she felt a burning pain as blood started trickling down her neck. Meanwhile Montaron was readying his crossbow, and Khalid and Jaheira hurriedly charged across the bridge to try to intercept him. Abduh got between them and their target however, and the large zombie roared in his gurgling voice as he drew his sword. 

Imoen fired an arrow, one of the ones taken off the kobolds earlier. It trailed a long streak of red fire as it hissed through the air, and though it didn't hit Abduh it made the undead man shy back with sudden fear.

"Fire!" Zaerini cried out. "He's afraid of fire!" She immediately drew a fire arrow of her own and saw her friend do the same. They didn't have much time. Xzar's spells were being constantly interrupted by Edwin as the Red Wizard launched Magic Missile after Magic Missile at him, but sooner or later the Necromancer would likely be able to get one through. Backup was needed. The bard and her human friend launched their arrows at the exact same time, and they both had the desired effect. Rini's struck Abduh in the chest, and while it wasn't enough to seriously harm him it made him bellow with sudden panic and drop his sword. Imoen's arrow pierced the cowl of Xzar's robe. It didn't hurt the wizard himself, but it made the garment catch fire.

"Aaah!" Xzar screamed, batting ineffectually at his smoking robe. "I'm burning! Monty, help! Put me out!" But Montaron was quite busy, as Jaheira and Khalid were now moving in to engage him, and the two half-elves were enough to keep the halfling occupied. He swore angrily and dropped his crossbow, drawing his short sword instead. "You! Zombie!" Xzar shrieked. "You must save us all! Put this fire out!" 

Abduh wasn't any more of an intellectual giant in death than he'd been in life, but he knew his Master's Voice and he hastened to obey. One fleshy arm encircled the waist of the wizard, another gripped Montaron's collar. Then the flaming zombie warrior threw himself into the underground river, pulling two frantically screaming Zhentarim along with him. 

Zaerini hurriedly ran to the edge of the bridge and looked down. The trio bobbed to the surface again, and they were rapidly being carried along by the current. Fortunately for the two Zhentarim Abduh still floated, and they clung to him like to an empty barrel.

"You…you stupid zombie!", she could hear Montaron yell. "I'll * glub * I'll rip your head off and use it for a chamberpot!" 

Then Xzar's mad laughter drifted into the dark air. "Oh, but what a ride, Monty! I've never ridden a zombie before! The dead, they all float, and now we float too! We float Monty, we float!" Silvery clear giggles trickled into Zaerini's sensitive ears like poison. "Bye-bye, Zaaeeeriiiniii", the Zhentish wizard called out in a sing-song voice as he disappeared around the corner. "See you, wouldn't want to be you…" After a while even the laughter faded away.

"Well, that was seriously creepy", Rini said, still staring into the dark water. 

"A most unpleasant encounter", Edwin agreed. "Magic and madness is a dangerous combination."

Imoen shivered. "Do you think they're really gone this time?" she asked her best friend.

"I'd like to think so", Zaerini said. "But I won't believe Abduh is dead until I see his dead body." She paused and thought about that. "His unmoving and unanimated dead body, that is. Speaking of which, just what was he talking about before?"

"Uh, nothing", Imoen said, fidgeting a little with her pink locks. "I didn't really kill him, honestly. He tried to beat me up with his sword, see, and then there was this guy who sort of killed him instead." She grinned widely. "It was great!"

"I can imagine", Rini said. "Who was this 'guy'?"

"He didn't say. But he was cute! And really nice too." 

Zaerini sighed quietly. Yes, her friend did seem to be having one of her crushes again. Probably on some vapid knight in shining armor too, straight out of the romance novels that Immy devoured with fanatical enthusiasm. The half-elf still remembered the 'Drizzt Devotion' with more than a little horror. "That's great", she said. Then she pointed at the dark cave opening across the bridge. "Now, shall we see if this mysterious priest of Cyric is at home and receiving guests?"

Plink. Plink. Plink. The inner cave was equally dark and damp as the one outside, and only a few small torches along the walls hinted at the fact that somebody dwelled here. There was the faint sound of water dripping from the roof, slowly, steadily. Plink. Plink. Plink. It probably had been doing that for many centuries, Zaerini thought, and likely would continue to do so for many more. Stalactites and stalagmites dotted the roof and floor respectively, making them deadly mazes of sharp rocks. _Or is it stalagtites on the floor?_ Rini thought. _I can never seem to remember that_. 

The entry tunnel split in three almost immediately, with no hint as to where they led. Not a sound was to be heard but for the dripping water. The already tense bard thought it was getting extremely annoying. The left passage led into a mostly empty cave, with just a dark pool inside. Rini thought she could glimpse pale and blind fish beneath the surface, and she shivered. Not that she had anything in particular against fish, but those things were simply too gross. Not as gross as the pile of human bones carelessly heaped on the floor though. 

A small group of kobolds guarded the middle tunnel, but they were quickly dispatched of. Eventually the passage opened into another cave. This one wasn't empty, however. A gloomy and dismal figure sat on the floor, his head resting against his knees. It was an elf. Zaerini couldn't help staring at him. Being half-elven herself she had always been intensely curious about the people who made up half of her heritage. _Or what I thought was half my heritage_ , she thought darkly. _Guess I'll never know if Daddy Bhaal had round or pointed ears as he raped my mother_. This particular elf was pale and wan, and painfully thin, as if he'd been shut in this cave for a long while. Fine brown hair floated about a narrow face like a cloud, and the pointed ears in question were clearly visible. He was wearing purple mage robes, torn and dirty from his long captivity. _Seems the color purple is an unlucky one for mages_ , Zaerini thought. _Dynaheir wore it too, and she got captured by gnolls._

Then the elf raised his head and turned towards the newcomers, watching them with eyes dull like rainy skies, completely devoid of all hope. "Ah", he said in a doom-laden voice. "More fools on the road to oblivion. I would bid you welcome, but we shall all be dead before long, so I would rather not waste my final moments of misery."

"Wow..:", Imoen said, watching the elf with round-eyed surprise. "You sure are sad. Who are you?"

"I am Xan", the elf said in a voice as sad as if he had just proclaimed himself to be a carrier of the plague. "If you are interested, friend, I am a Greycloak from Evereska. It is my duty to watch over the political events of the human nations along our borders. A hopeless effort if ever I have seen one. And I have seen many. Hardly had I got here before I was captured and thrown into these dismal vaults." He pointed at his throat and Zaerini noticed an iron collar encircling it, chaining him firmly to the wall. She suddenly felt that familiar thirst for violence rising within her.

"Who has done this?" she asked, her voice tight with barely controlled fury.

"The half-orc Mulahey", Xan said, sounding listless. "If you want him you will find him in the next room, thinking up no ways of torturing me, no doubt. That seems to amuse him. Funny. I remember thinking of things as amusing myself. It feels so long ago…" His eyes stared emptily into the distance, dark with painful memories Zaerini guessed. Then he spoke again, each word dripping to the floor with the same indifferent sadness of the falling water drops. "Please make me no empty promises of freedom", he said. "You will all get killed anyway. I would prefer not getting my hopes up."

_I don't think he knows what hope is anymore_ , Softpaws said. _He is like a bird with a broken wing, that one. Unable to fly._

_I hope that doesn't mean you're going to try to eat him._

_No, kitten. But what are you going to do with him?_

_I'm going to get him out of here_ , Rini promised her familiar. _Nobody deserves to be chained up and held prisoner in a ghastly dark cave like this. No wonder he's depressed. I wouldn't be exactly cheerful myself if it was me_.

"We'll come back for you once we've dealt with this Mulahey", the bard told the chained elf. "Does he keep the key for your chains on his person?"

Xan simply nodded despondently. 

"Just…just sit tight. We'll be back."

"The ever-present optimism of the naive…", the elf sighed. "At least you may annoy Mulahey enough to make him kill me quickly and not drag this torment out further." Then he closed his eyes and leaned back against the damp wall, completely ignoring them. 

"What a very uplifting conversation that was", Edwin remarked as the adventurers made their way back down the passage. "I could almost feel my heart breaking. Oh, wait. No, that was my patience."

"Oh?", Rini snapped, her golden eyes flashing angrily. The vision of the elf longing for death still weighed heavily on her mind. "Suppose it was you locked up in there? I hardly think you'd be exactly perky either."

"Perhaps not", the Red Wizard said. "But I would never just curl up and wait for death like he does. No wonder he got captured easily, he probably didn't even try to fight. Pathetic. Simply pathetic. (If he wants death so badly I would be more than happy to assist.) I've seen jellyfish with more spine than he has."

"Oh, and aren't we being brave picking on a man in chains. Now that's spineless."

Edwin gave the bard a dark look from beneath the cowl of his robe, his face tight with anger. "If you want to waste your time mooning over some whiny elf with a nasal voice, I suggest you do so in private", he said. "It's quite a sickening display of maiden folly, and I would have expected better from you. (If not by much.)"

"I'm not 'mooning' over him!" the half-elf snarled, feeling more and more outraged with every barbed comment. "And what makes you think I'm a 'maiden' anyway?" She was quite satisfied with the shocked look that flickered across the wizard's face. "I'm not saying I'm **not** either, you know. Just that it's none of your business."

"Children", Jaheira said mildly. "Could this perhaps wait until we get outside, or do you want Mulahey to judge between you? I am certain he will find the discussion an interesting one, and he should be able to hear you before long." Both the bard and the wizard kept quiet after that, having to content themselves with glaring angrily at each other. This went on until they at last came to the end of the long tunnel and entered the third and final passage. Here there were carpets on the floor, though they had green and moldy spots here and there from the damp, and at the end of the tunnel purple drapes closed off an inner room. Inside there were some soft cushions for resting on, a small table and an interesting large chest. The piece of furniture that drew the most attention was an actual throne at one end of the room, admittedly not one covered with gold and silver, but still a throne. 

_Unbelievable_ , Zaerini thought. _How conceited can you get?_ Mulahey was sitting on the throne, reading a letter. The half-orc looked mostly human, but there was a slight greenish tinge to his skin, and he had a protruding lower jaw that also hinted at the orcish part of him. He wore heavy armor and on the front of his breast he wore an emblem, a skull in front of a dark sun. _Cyric's symbol. This would be the Priest Of Swords, I guess. Now, how do I best deal with him? I need to get closer before he can get a spell off_. And then she had an idea. She was trained to use her voice to emulate others, a skill highly useful in acting, and she was also a fair ventriloquist. Now she threw her voice into a dark corner on the other side of the room, making it take on the glum tones of the voice of the elf from Evereska.

"You're doomed, Mulahey", Xan's voice said. "You're doomed and you don't even know it." 

The half-orc grunted with surprise. Then he got off his throne and peered into the dark corner. "What? How did you get in here?" he asked. "You're not supposed to be loose!" For a moment he simply stood there, looking confused, long arms dangling at knee-level. Then he cautiously moved in the direction from which he had heard the voice. Zaerini and her friends took this opportunity to come up behind him, the thick carpets muffling the sound of their feet. Mulahey didn't hear them until they were almost upon him. Then his ears twitched at some faint noise and he twisted around to find weapons being pointed at him. Fear leapt into his small and piggish eyes.

"Tazok must have dispatched you", he grunted, "and my traitorous kobolds let you pass, didn't they? I knew I could not trust them! Armed as such you have obviously been sent to kill me! By Cyric, not a measure of ore leaves this mine unspoiled and I am still to be executed?! I'll not lose my head over this!"

Tazok. The name itself was enough to send a small chill down' the bard's back. She hadn't heard it before, but she knew it all the same and briefly the image of a huge beast, horned and tusked, flashed before her eyes. _The Beast. The Beast of my latest reading, the Beast standing behind the Priest Of Swords. And behind him, Sarevok_. If she could only get this half-orc to betray his superiors, she would be that much closer to finding Gorion's murderer.

"Uh...Yes...fool", she said. "Tazok is...is most displeased with you! Reveal your treachery and perhaps he will spare you!"

"Tazok is unfair", Mulahey complained, "I have no desire to cheat him, or thee! My letters will show, they are in that chest. Take them, take them and Tazok will see!" For a moment Rini thought this was going to be easy. Then, as her eyes turned towards the closed chest, the half-orc suddenly threw his muscular arm up, shoving her back. "Fools, you'll never have the chance to take anything! Minions, come forth and kill the intruders!"

A loud moan rose from behind the backs of the five adventurers, and then they could hear the clacking sound of bony feet rattling along rocky ground. The skeletons from the previous cave had risen. There were ten of them, and they no longer looked in the least pathetic. Skeletal fingers clutched swords and clubs, deep within the empty eye-sockets a cold blue fire burned, and the eternal grins of the skulls never wavered.

"I will deal with them!" Jaheira shouted. "The rest of you handle the priest!" She didn't pause to wait for an answer but immediately kicked a skeleton in the spine, causing it to topple and drag two others down with it. Fortunately, the passage was narrow enough that the skeletons were forced to hold back rather than attack all at once. Jaheira's scimitar slid uselessly between the ribs of the next skeleton, giving off a rain of sparks. Growling loudly, the druid spotted a broken-off stalagmite on the ground. She quickly snatched the impromptu club with a vicious smile. Then she really got started. 

Meanwhile Khalid had been struck by a Horror spell cast by Mulahey and was gibbering with terror in a corner, his arms across his head. Rini found herself dodging the wild swings of the Cyricist's morning star as the priest had picked her out as his primary target. She was by far the most agile of them, but she was starting to get weary, and there was no time for her to launch an attack of her own. Edwin had been firing Magic Missiles at the priest and Mulahey was already starting to falter a little, but the half-orc was sturdy and strong. He simply wouldn't fall. Eventually the Red Wizard was forced to resort to physical combat, his spells exhausted.

"Ha! Even hand to hand I am dangerous!" Edwin cried out as he managed to rap the half-orc smartly across the back with his staff. Unfortunately, such a blow served more to enrage Mulahey than to actually harm him, and he turned towards the wizard with a furious roar that prominently displayed his long tusks. "Oh no…", Edwin gasped as he hurriedly tried to back away. "I really thought that would work… It always looks so easy…"

Just as Mulahey charged a hissing black cat darted in front of his feet, causing him to stumble. Softpaws hissed and bared her sharp teeth at the Cyricist as he raised his morningstar again.

_Get away from there!_ Zaerini desperately ordered her familiar. The cat ignored her, choosing instead to swat at Mulahey's legs. In a moment she would undoubtedly get flattened, and Zaerini saw no other choice but to heedlessly launch herself at the half-orc to keep him from hurting Softpaws. But there was no need. Imoen had managed to creep up on Mulahey from behind while he was distracted by the cat, and now she swiftly drew her dagger across the backs of his bowed legs. Mulahey screamed with sudden pain, and there were two loud 'twangs', like bowstrings fired, as the tendons were cut clean through. Then the priest tumbled unceremoniously to the ground, his legs no longer able to support him. Panting and cursing Mulahey tried to cast a spell to heal himself, but it was too late. Whistling through the air like a cold wind from the North Varscona sliced through his thick neck as if it had been hot butter. Then his head rolled across the floor and came to a halt just as Jaheira brought the final skeleton down.

"Whoa!" Imoen said. "Nice move, Rini."

"Thanks", Zaerini gasped and pushed her sweaty red locks out of her eyes. "You were pretty smooth yourself, Immy."

"What?" Edwin protested. "No words of praise for the wizard? (Ingrates. All of them.)"

"Oh, come on", Imoen said with a cheerful grin. "It you wanna backstab someone you can't do it like you did. You have to hit them in the vitals, don't you know that? Sheesh. Do your homework better next time."

"I'll have you know that my Art requires time and dedication, girl. I can't be expected to practice rogue skills as well. (Though I'm certain I would have been able to become an expert had I had a chance to try.)"

Zaerini was only paying partial attention to the discussion. While Jaheira brought Khalid out of his shocked state the bard searched Mulahey's body. She pocketed the symbol of Cyric first, intending to show it to the mayor of Nashkel as proof of her deed. The alternative being lugging his head around, and that was simply too disgusting. Child of Bhaal I may be, Rini thought, but I'm not that far gone just yet, thank you. Mulahey's boots looked interesting and likely magical. She would take a closer look at those later, assuming she could get the stink out. The ring on his finger was an even greater prize. She recognized it from an old book on holy relics. A Ring of Holiness, and it would enhance the powers of a priest. The perfect thing for Jaheira. After pocketing the key to Xan's cell Zaerini turned to the interesting chest near the wall. There were some potions and spell scrolls, a sword and then the most interesting of all. Two letters. 

_My servant Mulahey,  
I have sent you the kobolds and mineral poison that you require. Your task is to poison any iron ore that leaves this mine. Don't reveal your presence to the miners or you will find yourself swamped by soldiers from the local Amnish garrison. My superiors have recently hired on the services of the Black talon mercenaries and the Chill. With these soldiers at my disposal, I should be able to destroy any iron caravans entering the region from the south and east. I don't want to deal with iron coming from the Nashkel mines so don't fail in your duty. _

_TAZOK_

_My servant Mulahey,  
Your progress in disrupting the flow of iron ore does not go as well as it should. How stupid can you be to allow your kobolds to murder the miners? ! With your presence revealed you should be wary of enemies sent to stop your operation. Your task is a very simple one; if you continue to show that you can't do the job, you will be replaced. I will not send the kobolds you have requested as I need all the troops I possess to stop the flow of iron into this region. With this message I have sent more of the mineral poison that you require. If you have any problems then send a message to my new contact in Beregost. His name is Tranzig, and he'll be staying at Feldpost's inn._

_TAZOK_

Interesting contents, Zaerini decided, while wondering what the purpose of strangling the iron trade was. Perhaps this 'Tranzig' would be able to provide her with some answers. She allowed herself a brief smile at the thought, and for a second or two her eyes burned with an unearthly golden light. Then it flickered and disappeared as she remembered the captive elf in the other room. "Xan!", she exclaimed. "We'll have to go free him at once, I'm sure he'll be ecstatic to hear of Mulahey's demise."

"What of the letters?" Edwin asked. 

"I'll read them out to you later. Now let's go!"

As it turned out the one hint of expression that came out of Xan when he was released was a heavy sigh. "At last I am free of my dreary prison", he said, stretching his back. "Five and eighty days are far too long for one of the fair folk to live as a dwarf. You look no better off than I, but my appreciation for my liberty bids me add my spells to your cause. While I am certain we shall all be dead before the week is out, I feel obligated to offer anyway. Shall we face the impossible together?"

"Well", Zaerini said, feeling suddenly a little hesitant. "Why don't you let us escort you back to Nashkel at least? Then we'll see."

"As you wish. One death is as good as another I suppose."

"Wonderful", Edwin muttered. "This promises to be a very cheerful journey. (I would have almost preferred the madman, at least he was entertaining.)"

Once Zaerini had briefed her companions on the contents of Mulahey's letters they set out again, following a narrow ridge around the underground the river until they came upon another tunnel, this one sloping gently upwards.

"At last", Jaheira said. "I cannot wait to see the sun again and feel the wind on my face."

"A-and hear the s-songs of the birds", Khalid agreed. 

"You know", Rini said, "that makes me think of a song. It's a dwarven working song actually, and it's been adapted into Common. Wanna hear it?"

"I don't know", Edwin said. "It's not about gold is it?"

"No, no. Come on guys! It will be fun, I promise. I'll do the main verses, and I want you all to promise to join in the chorus." The bard didn't give up until she had achieved muttered consent from all her friends. "Right", she said. "Here goes. Remember to whistle the tune when I give the sign. And make sure to put some spirit into the 'Heigh-Ho' parts…"

And some distance above a group of miners froze with shock and horror as strange and unearthly sounds drifted up from the depths of the Nashkel Mine, the cheerful dwarven song distorted into devilish howls by the lingering echoes deep within the mountain. "Demons", one of the miners muttered. "I knew it was demons…"

She felt cold…so cold. Zaerini twisted and turned in her sleep, the dreams chasing her like a pack of baying hounds once again. Hounds? No, kobolds crying out for her blood, their eyes glowing red in the darkness. She ran through dark and endless mine tunnels, ran for her life. Not from the kobolds though. From something else entirely, a dark presence that whispered to her in a voice as sweet as honey, as chilling as a blade. _Father…_

With a small gasp the half-elf was startled out of sleep. She still felt that chill voice caressing her, calling for her, and though the night was warm and calm the cold lingered. _I think someone just walked across my grave_ , Rini thought. _I wonder…if perhaps it was me_. With this thought the ground beneath her opened and she was swept into the dark.

It was the mines again, as it had been all night, in every dream. But this time there were no monsters to be seen. The tunnels were empty, dark and empty. She wasn't sure if she could find her way out again. _I'm trapped here, aren't I?_ Zaerini thought. _Trapped by my blood, trapped by my sire's designs._

_No, kitten. The only trap is the one in your mind_. Softpaws sat in front of her on the floor, almost invisible in the darkness, her green eyes glowing steadily like lanterns guiding a ship home over a dark and stormy sea. _A cat walks where she wishes, and no door can bar her way. Look for the cracks. Look…_ The black cat slipped across the floor, silent as a ghost, until she reached the wall. Then she disappeared. 

_Softpaws? Where are you?_ The bard carefully felt the wall, until her questing fingers met empty air. A crack in the wall, one she hadn't seen before. And as she watched it grew, until there was a new corridor that hadn't been there earlier. 

_You see_ , Softpaws called from ahead. _A cat is not trapped. At least not for long. There are always cracks, even where you would not think to look for them. You simply need to find your way through._

And so it was that the half-elf now ignored the obvious roads, moving through walls and floors alike, descending deeper and deeper, until a bloated figure came into view. Mulahey, in no better shape than she had left him, stood motionless before her. 

The half-orc hadn't been exactly attractive in life, but now he was even worse. His flesh was already coming off his bones, as if the decomposition of his body had been accelerated. 

_I guess Cyric doesn't take kindly to failure_ , Rini thought. _I'll have to remember never to get involved with him if I can help it_ Then she saw something she hadn't noticed earlier. In front of Mulahey a dagger hovered, a dagger made out of a single bone, sharp and deadly. She knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that it would finish Mulahey once and for all, that it would destroy his soul as she had already destroyed his body. The half-orc said nothing, but his eyes were filled with equal parts hate and despair as he waited for the kill. His eyes were unfocused though, and she knew, somehow she knew that he couldn't see her. 

Zaerini hesitated. Killing the half-orc had been satisfying the first time, but destroying his very soul? _No. That isn't me. At least…I don't want it to be me. Killing has its place, but this is more than killing, and I will have no part of it. I just want to find Sarevok._

_Then ask your questions, kitten_ , Softpaws said. _Ask him in a voice he will heed and he will answer_. 

And Zaerini felt something twisting deep within her soul, twisting and changing. "My servant Mulahey", she said, and it wasn't her own voice anymore. It was the deep and threatening voice of Sarevok, as she had heard it in her dreams, as she had heard it on the night of Gorion's death. "My servant Mulahey, I have come to release you from your service."

"M-master?", Mulahey gasped. "Is it you? Have you truly come for me?"

"You know me, Mulahey. Do you dare question me?" Real threat in the voice now, and the half-orc trembled. 

"No! Master, no!"

"Then prove yourself. Prove that you are no mere phantom but my servant Mulahey. Where would you go if I told you to seek me out?" _That should do it_ , Rini thought. _Secret Headquarters, here I come_. 

"I…I know, not Master", Mulahey moaned. "You never said. Tazok, Tazok knows, but he is with the bandits. Master, I swear I do not know! Tazok contacts me by letter alone." His voice grew more desperate. "Tranzig! He will know! He's in Beregost, Tazok told me! Please, Master! Release me! I have been faithful!"

Zaerini sighed. The half-orc knew no more, she could tell that. _Damn. He must have been a low-level hireling, not entrusted with any real secrets_. "You are free, my servant", she said, the words sounding very strange when spoken in Sarevok's voice. "I release you." The skeletal blade clattered to the floor, rejected. 

Surprised and thankful, the visage of Mulahey hobbled forward passing through the half-elf, off to meet its fate. Zaerini felt something settle deeply within her soul at its passage, something that had been stirred and now came to rest as a part of her. It was a spark of hope that filled a space within her; a dagger-shaped hole she hadn't known was empty. 

A cry of rage rose from the depths of the mine, a wrath as powerful and inhuman as a tidal wave. Zaerini knew who it was this time. _My Father. No, not my Father. My sire_ She knew she ought to keep silent, but her own anger was rising, its flames licking at the edge of her mind. 

"Leave me ALONE!" she screamed. "I reject you!" And her voice split, split in two. It was her own voice speaking words of defiance, but there was also the voice of Sarevok, a powerful echo surrounding her with words of acceptance, of the thrills to be found in power, of embracing the blood.

The dagger of bone launched itself though the air, thrown by an invisible hand, Zaerini's heart its target. She awoke just as it should have struck, and the cold sweat that covered her stung her eyes. A disapproving voice lingered long in her ears, though it should have disappeared with the dream. YOU…WILL…LEARN!

Edwin, too, had been having problems sleeping, though for far more mundane reasons than having his dreams haunted by a dead god. The ground was rocky and uneven, and no matter how he twisted and turned he couldn't seem to get comfortable. The fact that all the others were sleeping, except for Jaheira who was standing watch some distance away, did nothing to improve his mood. _How can they put up with these rocks? I swear they are able to move around and find a sensitive body part no matter which way I turn. It's unbearable!_

It didn't make matters any better that he could almost hear the voice of his teacher at this point, telling him that if he was going to let a little thing like that bother him he might as well have stayed at home. _No_ , Edwin thought. _I can do this. I can. You'll see. I'll secure the girl and make everybody proud of my accomplishments. I just wish it didn't have to be so cursedly painful, that's all._

It was then that Edwin heard a noise, and an entirely unexpected one at that. A half-choked sob, faint but still audible. He sat up and looked around, trying to identify the source of the sound. _Probably that miserable elf_ he thought. But no, Xan was rolled up in a heap not far away, sleeping quietly, undisturbed by Khalid's gentle snores. Imoen lay sprawled on her back, a delighted grin on her face even as she slept. "A great heap of pink diamonds?" she muttered in her sleep. "For me? Why, you're too kind, Mr Black!" Then she made kissing noises. Edwin shuddered. He was sure he didn't want to know what the silly girl was dreaming about. But that only left…

Zaerini lay on her side, one arm resting beneath her head, her face mostly obscured by her hair. Normally a vivid red, in the darkness it looked almost black. "Trapped…", she murmured, her voice small and lost. "I'm trapped…aren't I?" Edwin rose from his sitting position and silently crossed the campsite to kneel by the sleeping half-elf. Nobody else seemed to have heard her distress, not even Jaheira. But then again, the druid was some distance off, and she was watching for outer disturbances. The others might have been expected to pay some attention though. _Her so-called 'good' friends, snoring like pigs. Shows how much they really care, I suppose_. Edwin shook his head. _What am I doing?_ he asked himself. _She's having a nightmare. So what? It isn't as if I can do anything about that._

But for some reason he couldn't tear himself away, couldn't keep from watching the bard as she sighed and turned over again and again in her sleep, her face a pale enigma with those strange eyes closed. A single tear emerged from beneath her eyelid and trickled across her cheek. Without thinking Edwin reached out a hand to brush it off. Then there was a loud hiss and he hastily yanked his hand back to avoid getting it impaled by a very sharp set of claws. Zaerini's black cat now sat on her breast, looking extremely determined not to let him interfere with her mistress. 

"All right, all right", Edwin whispered. "I was only trying to…" His voice trailed off. What exactly had he been trying to do anyway? The cat gave him an extremely condescending look that basically implied that even if he didn't know his own mind she certainly did, but she wasn't about to tell him. Then she gently nudged at her mistress' chest with a paw and licked her cheek, as if she was trying to tell her something. It was all a rather disturbing sight, Edwin thought. _Now what made me think that_ , he wondered. _What's wrong with me anyway? What am I doing here?_ Before he had the time to even begin to answer that question Zaerini suddenly sat up, straight as an arrow, golden eyes staring unseeing in front of her, and he felt her fingers grip his arm like a claw. 

"No!", the half-elf snarled. "I will not…will not…" 

"Will not what?" Edwin asked. "I hope you meant that you will not tear my arm out of its socket. I find it useful to keep around." He tried his best to sound flippant, but he couldn't help feeling a bit unnerved. For a moment the bard had been speaking in another voice, a male voice, deep and powerful. Deadly, even.

"Edwin?", Rini said, sounding rather confused as her eyes came back into focus. Her voice was her own again though. "Is that you? What are you doing up?"

"No, I'm just Edwin's ghost", the Red Wizard said with a small sneer. "Edwin died because of sleep deprivation, caused by being kept awake by somebody moaning and groaning and…and carrying on all night. Can't you suffer in silence, or does being an artist force you to make an opera out of every little problem?"

The bard quirked an eyebrow at him in a manner that he found extremely annoying. "Whatever you say, Eddie", she said. For a moment her gaze turned inward and then she smiled slightly. "Though Softpaws tells me another version." The cat gave Edwin what he could have sworn was a feline smirk. "She seems to think you were worried about me."

"I most definitely wasn't." _Damn that cat. How am I ever going to explain this?_ "No, I…I was simply trying to wake you. To get you quiet. Yes. That's it. How am I supposed to work my magic if I don't get my eight hours sleep, do you suppose?"

"Well, I'm awake now. I had a rather disturbing dream though." The half-elf suddenly seemed to realize that she was still holding on to his arm and let go of it with a slightly embarrassed cough. "One of **those** dreams. You know. I'll tell the others later, but I'd really like to go over it with someone right now. It would help me feel better, I think. That is, if you don't mind…?"

Her eyes were serious now, with no trace of mockery or mischief, their fires burning low as she recalled whatever darkness she had just passed through, and she shivered a little, despite the warm night air. Her voice sounded almost pleading.

"No", Edwin said, and he wondered why the thought that she should come to him for support was such a pleasing one. "No, I don't mind that at all." _It will help me get closer to her, to achieve my objects. Of course that is a good thing. I am, after all, a Red Wizard. I can be professional about this sort of thing. I have my own duties. My own loyalties_. And yet, as he listened to the half-elf unburdening her heart, as the terrible things she had seen became real to his mind, and he tried to apply his brain to make some sense of her vision, a small and hidden part of him said otherwise. That part unconsciously knew that a crack had started to form down the middle of his soul, a crack that would eventually divide his heart and his loyalties in two.


	13. Curse And Carnival

**In The Cards 13 – Curse And Carnival**

_It seems that at least a third of the people I meet are totally bonkers, complete madmen prepared to hang about indefinitely in the middle of nowhere in order to harass me as I happen to walk by. It seems like a big, cosmic injustice if you ask me. Raving psychos, murdering berserkers, enchanted wizards and just plain fools seem to lie in wait for me wherever I go. Sometimes I wonder if the gods drop them in my path on purpose in order to annoy me. You never know with gods._

_Excerpt from 'Ruminations Of A Master Bard'_

The next morning dawned gray and miserable, with a soft drizzle of rain that penetrated your clothes and seemed to seep into your very skin. The bleak and rocky landscape didn't do much to improve Zaerini's mood either. Rocks, rocks and yet more rocks, with a cactus here and there to cheer things up. If she never saw another rock in her life, she wouldn't miss them. 

"I am certain we will reach Nashkel soon", Jaheira said, but she didn't sound quite as sure of herself as usual.

"You said that three hours ago", Edwin pointed out. "Could it be that your lore is failing you, druid? Would you like to stop to do some mystic dances and chew on some animal droppings to divine our whereabouts? (I hear the dances can be quite entertaining to watch.)"

"It matters not", Xan said. "We are all doomed anyway. This wilderness will be our tomb, our lonely and desolated tomb. Perhaps, in a few years, some other lost travelers will come across our bleached bones and wonder at our fate… But they will speak…nevermore." He sighed heavily.

The druid and the Red Wizard both gave the elven mage identical looks of pure disgust. "SHUT UP!" they simultaneously cried out. Then they both looked startled and pointedly ignored each other. 

Zaerini couldn't really blame Edwin and Jaheira for their reaction. Xan was proving increasingly difficult to tolerate, and she was getting more and more tempted to insert one of those cacti up what old Winthrop would delicately have referred to as his 'clean elven arse'.. She still felt sorry for what he had gone through as Mulahey's captive, but she could only take so many predictions of her own impending death. All the same, she had to try to keep the party together. "I'm sure it's only a matter of time before we find our way", she said, trying her best to sound positive. "There has to be somebody alive around here who knows the way to Nashkel."

"We could have asked those ghouls we came across", Xan said. "Those tortured souls, those victims of undeath, those…"

"Yes, yes, yes. I get the point."

"T-those things w-w-were horrible", Khalid shuddered. "S-s-so cold and s-sad."

_Oh, great_ , Rini thought. _Is Xan's gloominess contagious, I wonder?_

_I think it's this place_ , Softpaws answered her. The cat slunk across the ground like a shadow, half invisible among the rocks. Her voice sounded wary. _It is a bad place, cold and damp. Cold creatures hunt here, I can smell them._

_Wonderful. More undead. Can you tell what kind?_

_Both the dry and the wet_ , the cat said, indicating walking skeletons as well as more ghouls. 

_I wonder where they are all coming from?_

"Oh, look", Imoen said at precisely that moment. "A tomb! Think we should look inside?"

"Absolutely not!" Jaheira protested and gave the young rogue a firm look. "We need to get back to Nashkel. We don't have the time to go grave-robbing and disturbing the dead."

"I figure the dead around here are pretty disturbed already", Rini said with an impudent toss of her hair. The tomb was a dark and silent opening into the mountainside, as creepy as they come. "So, it's a dark, dank tomb, probably crawling with undead. Surely we all know what that means?"

"Yes!" Edwin said, his eyes shining with excitement. "Treasure, and lots of it. Probably magical too! (What are we waiting for? A written permission?)"

"Exactly! Booty! And besides, since there are so many undead around here anyway, I figure we might as well clear them out at the source rather than let them sneak up on us from behind. Let's go!" With that the half-elf set off inside the dark opening, Edwin and Imoen close behind. 

Jahiera simply stood there for a moment, quite speechless. "Is there something about me that infuses everybody I speak to with a potent death wish?" she asked.

"A-a-a-actually…" Khalid began before he caught sight of his wife's face. "N-no, dear. Of course n-not."

"Death comes to us all", Xan said, his every word as dark and hollow as a coffin-lid being slammed shut. "What is the point of trying to avoid it?"

"Fine!" the druid said and drew her scimitar. "Then you will not mind me telling you that death will come more quickly than expected unless you stop your whining and start making yourself useful around here." A scream from inside the tomb made Jaheira break off her scolding and rush inside, Khalid close behind. Xan followed at a more leisurely pace. "I suppose I might as well come", he mused to himself. "At least it will probably be an interesting sort of death."

The passage inside the tomb was dark and narrow, and water dripped along the walls. "Well", Rini said, "at least there aren't any kobolds, right?" It was then that she heard the sound of running feet rapidly approaching from around a corner. She barely had the time to draw her sword before a man crashed into her and almost bowled her over. The fact that the impact made him start screaming at the top of his lungs didn't make the experience a more pleasant one. "AHHH!! Who are you?! Don't kill me! Please! I'm so sorry! I'll give it back, just don't kill me!"

He was a short and skinny man with a somewhat ratty look about him, and he was sweating profusely. His face was drawn and pale as if he hadn't got much sleep lately and he watched the adventurers with terror-filled eyes. 

"Yeah!", Rini said, following a sudden impulse. "You had better...give it back. Right quick too!" _Has to be treasure, what with his coming screaming out of a tomb like this. Hope it's something useful. I wouldn't mind a Bag of Holding, or some elven chainmail, or…_

"Here!", the grave-robber said, and handed the half-elf a slim dagger. "Take it! Just get out of my dreams so I can rest! I swear I'll never go grave robbing down there again! Blast the southern sun for leading me there in the first place! I swear I'll no do it again!" He moaned again and ran off. Zaerini gave the weapon a careful look. Its blade was a matte black, the same as its hilt, and it was very sharp. 

"I've seen this sort of thing before", Edwin said. "It's made from the metal of an iron golem, and unless I'm very much mistaken it's sharp enough to cut through armor. (And I could think of one or two that really need cutting.)"

"Interesting", Rini said as she turned the dagger over. "I wonder what it was about it that made that fellow so frightened though."

"Possibly the fact that its owner has been haunting his dreams ever since he stole it", Jaheira said, coming up from behind. "He was just about ready to kill himself, or so he told us when we passed him. You are going to return it, I hope?"

"Oh", the bard said a little airily. "I suppose so. Let's take a look and see what's ahead, shall we?"

The tunnel opened up into a large burial chamber, with many stone sarcophagi lining the walls. The lids of some of them were open, and Zaerini couldn't quite shake the feeling that they had been opened from inside. There was an almost palpable aura of sadness and despair in the air, quite apart from the smell of death. Still, there was nothing dangerous in sight. "See?" she said. "No problem whatsoever. We'll just search this place and…"

"Thief will pay with DEATH!! RETURN!! RETURN the dagger!!" The voice was a rough and gravelly one, like the words were being spoken around a fistful of dirt, and without a fully functioning tongue. It also echoed, and Rini suddenly knew that the voice was coming from inside one of the stone coffins. Then she could see a heavy lid being pushed aside as easily as if it had been made of paper, and a pale hand came into view. The hand was followed by an arm, gaunt and with rotting flesh hanging off of it, and then the creature itself emerged from its grave. It was a corpse, new enough to still have identifiable human features, and old enough to be extremely disgusting. Bits and pieces were coming off it as it moved, and its sunken eyes burned with dull fire. "Dagger!!", the creature moaned with black and putrid lips. "You have the dagger. Give it to ME!! Now I can rest, rest forever....."

Zaerini looked at the dagger in her hand. While undoubtedly old and valuable, she hardly thought it was worth getting torn to pieces over. Besides, she had other ideas. "Oh, this dagger?" she asked. "It's yours?"

"It…is the dagger of he who murdered me. The dagger of Tween. Give it to me!"

"Sure, sure, in a sec. Who's this Tween, then? Does he hang around this crypt as well?"

The revenant moaned again, and yet more bits dropped to the floor. Behind her Zaerini could her Imoen make a retching sound. "NO! He still lives! Lives…and kills others for his… experiments! He…wakes the dead. Makes them…his guardians…the guardians of his foul magic. The dagger…is the key. But he…has put wards on my tomb. I cannot…travel far from it to avenge myself, though he is very close he keeps outside them."

Zaerini's mind was racing quickly. "Tell you what", she said. "If we find this Tween, and kill him for you, can we keep this dagger?"

The revenant smiled, displaying a green and rotting tongue and a set of empty gums. "Yessss… Kill him. Then you will be…rewarded."

The grey sky was a welcome sight after the foulness of the tomb, and Zaerini took a deep breath to get the stink of the revenant out of her nostrils.

"So", Edwin said in a thoughtful voice, "we're to assassinate a mage then? On the word of some corpse?"

"Well, if you want to put it that way…"

"I do want to put it that way."

"I'm sure he deserves it; revenants only rise from the dead if they have been truly betrayed as well as murdered. I wouldn't have expected you to feel guilty about a thing like this anyway."

"I don't." Edwin sounded genuinely puzzled at such a suggestion. "Why would I? It's only a regular arrangement. But I think you might have negotiated a better deal before taking on the assignment. A dagger? Please don't make me laugh. That thing probably has hordes of gold hidden up its rotting sleeves. (Not that it had any sleeves, but you get the point.) There's no need to sell ourselves so cheap."

"On the other hand, a mage powerful enough to raise the dead probably has an item or two that could prove useful, don't you think? I think this 'Tween' will provide for us, even if the revenant doesn't."

"Hm", the Red Wizard said. "We will see."

The adventurers kept walking in a more or less steady eastward direction, or so they thought. It was still strangely difficult to tell for sure. "It is the curse", Xan sighed. "We will never get out of here."

"What curse?" Imoen asked.

"Does it matter? There is always a curse." The elven mage sighed again, his brown hair falling forwards to hide his face as he bent over something on the ground. "And look at this", he said, pointing at a small pile of rocks. "Rocks! It's rocks!"

"Yes?", Zaerini said in a very careful voice. "So?"

"Don't you see? Rocks. Rocks! Piled in a pile by hands unknown, hands undead I shouldn't doubt. There will be stick figures hanging from the cacti next. And then we'll all die."

"I'd like to see **him** hang from a cactus", Edwin muttered. Jaheira nodded emphatically, then caught herself and made an annoyed face. Imoen rolled her eyes and Khalid simply sighed. 

"Frankly", Rini said and gave the elf an irritated look, "as long as the undead content themselves with harmless woodwork and rock gardens I shan't be very worried." _I certainly hope he isn't a typical elf_ she thought. _I'd hate to think that half my ancestors resembled wooly wet blankets. Or a third of them, if you want to count Daddy Bhaal as an ancestor. On second thought, I think I'd prefer droopy elves._

"Oh, you all laugh now", Xan said morosely. "We'll see what you say when we all get chopped to pieces and eaten by some horrible monster."

"I don't know about the rest of you", Edwin said in a conversational voice, "but I wouldn't mind all that much as long as I could see the elf get eaten first. (And besides, after a meal on that much condensed misery any monster would likely kill itself simply to get away from him.)" Jaheira actually snickered this time, before she clasped her hand across her mouth and looked slightly mortified. 

It was some minutes later that the adventurers came out onto an open and rocky plain, without even cacti to cheer things up. "Look at that", Imoen suddenly said, pointing ahead. "What's that on the ground?" The companions carefully moved forward to investigate. On the ground were a large number of rocks, meticulously placed in position by human hands. They formed a sort of spiral, with two hook-like formations emerging from one side. Below this shape some jagged lines were etched into the ground. Whoever had done this hadn't been satisfied with simple handicraft. There was blood splattered all over the piles of rocks, old black blood that was dried and flaky, fresh blood that ran in red rivulets into the eldritch runes that covered the ground. 

"Right", Rini said as she swallowed hard and tried not to choke on her own bile. "Just in case we all get killed here I'd like to take this opportunity to apologize to all of your mothers in advance. I might not get the chance later."

"I told you", Xan said. "Didn't I tell you about the rocks? I'd estimate our chances of surviving this day to 0.0000000000001 in 1000."

"SHUT UP, XAN!", everybody else yelled in chorus.

"I don't recognize these runes", Edwin said a few minutes later. The Red Wizard walked cautiously along the edge of the rock formation, studying its shape. His dark eyes were intense and fascinated as he scanned the area, carefully examining it without disturbing anything. There was something…clinical… about the way he watched everything, Rini thought. Very objective. Somehow, she got the impression that he was so focused upon the puzzle presented to him that he'd actually forgotten that it might be human blood, or indeed that they themselves could be in danger. That calm detachment was frightening, but it was also…intriguing. She could see where it might have its uses. And besides, it was quite interesting to see him forget his usual sarcasm for once. When he wasn't sneering, he was actually really good-l…

"Wouldn't you agree?" Edwin said, startling the half-elf out of her reverie. 

"Er…what?"

The wizard gave an impatient sigh. "The runes resemble common conjuration runes", he said. "But there are others, that I haven't seen before. And all this blood hints at some sort of Necromancy, of a potent kind. I'd say these runes were made by a wizard researching a new spell." 

"And you would be right!" The voice was a strange one, and the adventurers all turned around quickly to see an old man facing them. He was wearing mage robes, and his hands gripped a staff. A snowy white beard reached almost to his waist and blue eyes glittered like chips of cracked ice beneath bushy brows. "Narcillus Harwilliger Tween, at your service", the wizard said. "Come quickly, you are just in time for my experiment!"

_I think I can guess what kind of 'experiment' that would be_ , Rini thought, remembering the ghouls she had seen and the words of the revenant. _I think I'll pass, thanks. I'd prefer not to get killed, maimed or tortured by some crazy wizard if I have a choice about it._

"W-What kind of e-experiment are you a-attempting?" Khalid asked as he gave the mage a nervous look. 

The wizard smiled benignly. "I am so glad you asked that", he said. "I believe I have developed a spell to empathically control any gelatinous creature and bend it to your will. Slimes, jellies, oozes, all of these things that foul the cook's cellar and the adventurer's dungeon can now be controlled and eradicated with an ease and efficacy never before seen in the history of the Realms. It takes an entire hour to gain such control, but that time will be minimized with further experimentation, I am sure. In moments, that hour will be up for a small number of mustard jellies that I have released into the nearby woods. We shall soon bear witness to the results of my endeavor."

_Oh, great_ , Softpaws said. _Another crackpot. What is it about mages that makes their brains so soft?_

_Softpaws!_

_Not including your own personal pet, of course._

_He's not my…_

"Fascinating", Edwin drawled at precisely that moment. "You must write this spell down for me that my party can make use of it in our adventures."

_Uh-Oh_ , Rini thought. _Why do I get the feeling this guy isn't the kindly, sharing sort of old wizard? Not the sort to offer us tea and cookies, along with some friendly advice?_

Tween's face twitched convulsively, and his voice trembled with fury as he lifted his staff. "I have worked years for this, and you seek its benefits in mere seconds? Nay, you not only seek them, you expect them! The spell is mine and you'll not take it from me! Come jellies, let us make our mark upon the world!"

Zaerini didn't wait for him to finish the sentence before she launched a Magic Missile at him, interrupting the spell he'd been about to cast. She was pleased to see Edwin do the same. _At least he can do something right_. Xan followed up with a spell of his own, a violently green and hissing arrow that caused Tween to shriek with pain. A couple of Magic Missiles later the wizard went down. 

"You", Zaerini said, poking Edwin's chest with her finger, "have to be the most…" Then she paused and the furious look in her golden eyes faded to one of apprehension. There had been a wet, slurping sound directly behind her. "That's not a regular slug, is it?" Edwin shook his head. "Oh, lovely." As it turned out the slurping sound came from two large, amorphous masses slithering their way across the ground. 

"J-jellies!", Khalid cried out. "Magic w-won't work on them!" He hesitantly charged towards the two creatures, sword in hand. Jaheira overtook him rapidly and laid into the jellies with her scimitar. Rini sighed and drew Varscona. She hoped the sword didn't mind slime too much. The jellies were vulnerable to the enchanted weapons, if not to the arrows that Imoen vainly launched at them. But they were tough, and their touch burned like acid. Once Khalid stumbled and would have been submerged and devoured if the two female half-elves hadn't been able to pull him out of harm's way. Then there was the fact that the creatures compensated for their own slow speed by slowing their enemies to a near crawl. Rini felt her limbs move sluggishly, her sword almost too heavy for her to lift. _Oh no_ , she thought. _I'm not about to let myself get killed by a pile of slime, am I?_ One of the jellies was down now, but the other kept coming, damaged as it was. And then blue fire flashed past her and the mustard jelly slowly dissolved in a lifeless pile of goo, its life at an end.

"Moonblade", Xan said with a heavy sigh as he sheathed his glowing sword again, the sword that had been retrieved from Mulahey's chest. "Thank you so much for getting it back and providing me with all sorts of pointless new ways to get into mortal peril. The anticipation of impending and agonizing death while on a hopeless quest is just the sort of thing I need after being coped up in those dungeons."

"You're welcome", Zaerini said in a faint voice. _Gratitude or not_ , she thought, _first thing we get back to Nashkel he has to go. I saved him earlier, now we're even. One crazy mage is quite enough._

_I should hope so, kitten. You wouldn't want those two males fighting. That could get nasty. The red one wouldn't spare the claws, you know._

_Fight? What's that supposed to mean? Sure, they don't get along, but that doesn't mean they're about to actually…_

_Oh kitten_ , Softpaws said with an exasperated sigh. _Could you at least try not to be so hopelessly dense?_

_What?_

_No, kitten. You'll figure it out when you're ready to. When the time comes for you, you will know what to do._

Zaerini sighed. _I thought familiars were supposed to be helpful._

_And I am being helpful, kitten. Sometimes the kittens are best helped by being allowed to muddle through on their own and make their own kittenish mistakes, as long as they don't harm themselves_. There was a feline snicker. _And besides, that also provides their parents with an endless source of amusement._

Rini forced her face to remain neutral as the revenant bent forward to kiss her hand, even though she had a nasty feeling it might leave its lips behind. For one thing it didn't seem polite to yank away with a scream of disgust when the poor creature was simply trying to be courteous. For another, watching the stunned faces of her companions was a real treat. Jaheira's eyes were almost bulging from her sockets and Edwin looked like he was about to choke on his own tongue. _Really_ , Rini thought, _I wouldn't have expected a Red Wizard to be so sensitive. Just goes to show, you never can tell._

"You…have killed….Tween", the revenant groaned. "I thank you. You may now…have your reward. And I…will…rest…" With those words the undead man sank into the ground, an expression of complete peace on its decomposing face. As it disappeared from sight one of the sarcophagi inside the tomb sprang open to reveal some very interesting contents. A suit of magical chainmail that should fetch a nice price, a pearl necklace, some money and potions, and most importantly a wand. A wand of a kind she recognized from her studies.

"Oooh…" Zaerini said as she picked it up. "A wand of Monster Summoning…"

"Really?" Edwin asked, his voice almost childishly eager. "You're sure? Quite sure? Can I see it? Can I hold it? (I always did want one of these.)"

"You can have it, actually", the bard said, favoring the wizard with her best smile. "I've already got the lightning one and I can't very well use two at the same time. And you're the conjurer, so it seems fitting." She was secretly amused to watch the mage flounder for a moment, obviously without a clue as to what to say.

"Ah…yes", Edwin eventually managed. "Of course. I would be most excellently suited for wielding this sort of powerful magic. By recognizing that you show at least some measure of intelligence and judgement."

"I would not bet on the judgement part", Jaheira murmured. Rini ignored her. "Why, thank you", she said. "What a very…unique…compliment. And now, perhaps we should press on?"

Having left the tombs behind the adventurers headed north. Jaheira was now quite certain of which way they were supposed to go, and she explained that her natural sense of direction had probably been confused before by all the magic suffusing the area. 

"Either by that or by chewing too many 'natural' leaves", Edwin muttered. Jaheira was just about to make a biting retort when the party entered a narrow ravine and found themselves facing a group of four strange women. Two of them were heavily armed and armored, the other two wore leather armor. One of these two carried a bow, the other no visible weapon at all. All of them looked very arrogant, and very pleased to see the half-elven bard and her companions. Not a good sign. 

"You there", said the one who was obviously the leader. "Is your name Zaerini? Hurry up and answer. Your answer better be the truth, for your life depends upon it."

Rini considered her answer for a moment. This whole situation was starting to feel extremely familiar, and she had a feeling that she was going to get attacked no matter what. And then something very strange happened. She reached into a part of herself that she hadn't known was there before, and her voice changed. Not just the regular sort of imitation that she'd been able to do before, but it actually changed into the voice of Sarevok, exactly as it had in her dream.

"No, it isn't", that booming and lethal voice said. "I'm the Great and Evil Sarevok, can't you tell? Now do you realize why I always wear that hideous armor? I had to do something to make myself look dangerous." 

It was hard to tell whether Zaerini's companions or the four assassins were the ones who looked the most taken aback, but the strange woman rallied first. "You lie!", she cried out. "Remember what I told you about lying. You were foolish to even try, as my god Cyric allows me to see through all falsehoods. You shall now die, Zaerini. You will never interfere with the Iron Throne ever again."

_I guess these are some of the less stupid henchmen_ , Rini thought. "Oh boo hoo", she said, still in the voice of Sarevok, creating an extremely odd impression. "Aren't you scary. Well, I've got just the one thing to say to you, girlie, and that's…CATCH!" With that she fired her lightning wand directly at the four women and was pleased to see the bolt bounce from one to the other, sizzling and crackling. Edwin wasn't far behind, and a swarm of small goblins emerged from his own wand to tackle the assassins. While each goblin was easily swept aside, their sheer numbers kept the Iron Throne assassins from closing with their enemies and forced them to defend rather than attack while the two wizards peppered them with spells. Behind her Rini could hear Jaheira chanting a spell and the sky grew suddenly darker. More flashes of lightning from above and one of the strangers fell. Suddenly the bard had an idea. Suppose Sarevok's wasn't the only voice she could now perfectly imitate? "They are too strong, girls", she shouted, her voice now that of the Iron Throne assassin who had spoken to her. "Retreat!" Two of the women faltered, shooting confused looks at their leader. Their confusion lasted just long enough for Edwin and Xan to bring one of them down, still with a very surprised look on her face.

Zaerini smirked. This new ability should prove extremely useful. And then the smile melted from her face as she tried to cast a spell. The words were there, but her magic wouldn't come. It was locked within her, unreachable. She knew what must have happened. One of the assassins must have disabled her magic with a spell of some kind. She would have to resort to other options then. Dashing over to one of the fallen assassins she grabbed the arrows out of the woman's quiver. Some were coated with what seemed to be poison, others had tips as cold as ice. The bard handed the cold ones to Imoen and kept the others for herself. The leader of the Iron Throne assassins cried out with pain as the poison entered her system, and then she was silent as Khalid's sword pierced her body. That left just the one woman, and another lightning bolt out of the sky quickly dealt with her. Rini wiped the sweat from her brow and surveyed the battlefield. Four dead women, skilled ones at that. She was getting better. _I suppose I should thank you, 'Father'. Giving me a natural aptitude for killing is going to help keep me alive to cross you._

_It doesn't come from him alone_ , Softpaws said. _Your sire's blood adds to it, but all cats are skilled at the hunt and the fight. At least, all the live ones. Now sheathe your claws. You've made a good kill. Time to clean your fur_.

Rini turned to her friends. Nobody had suffered any serious injuries, except for Xan who had been struck with a poisoned dart and was even now being tended to by Jaheira. She used her own minor healing spell to fix a cut on Imoen's leg. 

"More bounty hunters?" Imoen said, her face still a little pale. "I'd almost managed to forget about them."

"I hadn't", Zaerini said. "Though I'm getting seriously sick of them. The next person who walks up to me and announces his intention of killing me is going to have to rest in pieces." A brief chill passed through her then as Varscona announced her approval of the words in a silent barrage of images. Blood. Death. She shook them off with some difficulty and started searching the dead bodies along with Jaheira. There were a few useful items, potions mostly, as well as an enchanted set of leather armor that would likely fit Imoen once the blood was cleaned off it. But most importantly, there was one thing that wasn't there. 

"No bounty notice", Rini said and rubbed her chin. "That's a bit of a surprise."

"Not really", Edwin said. "These weren't freelancing bounty hunters after all. I'd say they were assassins regularly employed by this 'Iron Throne'. (Skilled, but not skilled enough of course. These westerners don't seem to understand the concept of discretion.)"

"What's the Iron Throne?" Imoen asked.

"A trade organization", Jaheira answered. "They have a chapter in Baldur's Gate."

"Y-yes", Khalid agreed. "They are p-pretty powerful."

"Really?" Zaerini said. "Interesting. I wonder what they have to do with Sarevok, though? These assassins obviously knew his voice."

That comment led into her friends demanding to know exactly what she had done before and her explaining that she wasn't quite sure. After some brief experimentation it seemed that she could imitate anybody whose voice she had ever heard, but she was starting to feel tired and she didn't think she could keep it up indefinitely. Though driving Jaheria nuts with talking to her in her own voice had been rather funny. The only one not dismayed by the sound of his own voice was Edwin who kept asking her to say something more. _Figures_ , Rini thought with a wry smile. _If there's anybody in love with the sound of his own voice, he's the one._

"We should go now", she eventually said. "We've done all we can here, and I'd like to get back to civilization."

"Y-yes", Khalid agreed. "To Nashkel, then?"

"Not just yet. See, I heard there's a carnival right to the east of Nashkel, and I've been wanting to check it out ever since. We'll go that way first."

"Yes!" Imoen exclaimed. "A fair! Oh, this is going to be so much fun!"

"A place of merriment", Xan sighed. "How frivolous of you. Remember, we are all…"

"…doomed", Rini said. "Yes. I know. But doomed or not, right now I just want to have some fun for once."

The journey to the Nashkel Carnival was blissfully uneventful, and the fair itself seemed very promising, Zaerini thought. There were all sorts of wonderful smells in the air, spices and candy, sawdust and horses, all of them intermingled into a heady mixture. The sounds were equally enticing. There were hawkers of wares, street performers calling attention to their acts and the loud voices and laughter of the many customers. The bard immediately felt her spirits soar. She'd have to see about performing here later, she thought. But first she wanted to take a look around. "I think we should split up", Rini said with an innocent smile. "We probably all have different things we want to do anyway. No use in wasting time."

"Perhaps…", Jaheira said. "As long as everybody promises to be careful."

"Oh Jaheira, really! This is a carnival! What could possibly happen?"

Jaheira thought about this for a moment. "Very well", she said. "Now, about these groups…"

"Great! You, Khalid and Xan make up one group then, me and Immy and Eddie the other. See you all here later! Bye-bye!" With that the bard hurriedly grabbed the arms of the thief and the Red Wizard and dragged them off, a triumphant grin on her face. _Yes!_ Rini thought. _Jaheira can lecture Mr Gloom all she wants, and I hopefully get to have some fun for a change without getting scolded and without anybody insisting that I act 'responsible'. A perfect plan._

Jaheira remained silent for a moment, struggling with the feeling that somebody had just yanked the ground out from under her feet. Then she muttered something about rowdy children running wild.

"Oh, c-come now d-d-dear", Khalid said with a smile. "They're young. They w-want to amuse t-themselves."

"Amuse", Xan said darkly. "This is a carnival you know. There will be killer clowns and evil fortune tellers. Murderous villains around every corner. We're all doomed."

"Speak for yourself", Jaheira said, her annoyance with Xan quite overshadowing everything else. "I'm on my way to get something to drink, and so is Khalid. If you want to wallow in misery you can either do it quietly or you may remain here." She walked off towards the tents without giving the elven enchanter a second glance. 

"Y-you may want t-to listen to h-her", Khalid said, sounding a little apologetic. "She usually m-means what she s-says when her face goes all s-stony like that." Then he followed his wife. 

"Goes stony?" Xan said quietly. "I could see no great difference." He sighed. "Oh, what's the point. A doomed man deserves a final glass of wine, I suppose. Even if I'm sure it will be sour. At least it may dull my senses somewhat to the memory of those awful Iron Throne people." The elven mage headed after the druid and the warrior. He was completely unaware of the fact that somebody had been listening closely to every word he said, and equally unaware of the listener quietly slipping away through the crowd in the direction Zaerini had left. 

_I wonder where they dredged that one up_ , the listener thought with some amusement. _Should make for an interesting tale, if most likely a depressing one. If he isn't either dead or booted out by the end of the week I'm changing careers to become a priest of Lathander, complete with pink and gold robes._

"So where do we go first?" Imoen asked, almost bouncing with eagerness. "The games? Or the shops?"

"The performers", Zaerini said. "I want to check out the competition." She wished she'd had something flashy to wear for once. Her faded blacks were all very well when it came to life on the road, but by this time they were kind of tattered and dusty. Perhaps she could pick up something new here. The performers mostly had gathered near the western edge of the fairground. The applause and laughter could be heard from a great distance, as could the voices of the artists promoting themselves. 

Watch as I make myself disappear!

Come see me swallow flaming knives!

He explodes - and lives again!

There were wooden stands for the audience, erected in front of the sandy piece of ground that functioned as an arena. Pretty flowers bordered it, but they were overshadowed by the performers strutting about the 'stage'. Jugglers, acrobats, knife-throwers, fire-eaters, all of them hard at work. Rini had to stand still for a moment to take it all in, a wide grin slowly spreading across her face. This is paradise, she thought. It was at that precise moment that the poet came walking up to her, seemingly determined to ruin her day.

The poet was very pale, and dressed all in black, which was not a good color for him. He had watery blue eyes and a rather vapid smile. He also smelled as if he hadn't changed his clothes since early puberty. Like a blood-sucking leech he attached himself to the group of adventurers and started reciting.

_"...and there she lay, pale and bloodless at my side!  
Woeful be the path of the elves, said I.  
Woeful be the path of all who trod this glade,  
for Nosferatu's once-fair love--  
has died, oh she has died..._

_...'midst coffers full and coffins bare,  
there came the fearsome devil-bat!  
Red blood, red eyes, and ruddy hair  
but none more red  
than two sharp teeth that glistened there..."_

He bowed. "There ends Galahynne's last and best-loved work, "Nosferatu." And now I'll recite some of my own work for you: 

_"Out of shadows, black as night  
Hidden well from human sight  
Lethal hunter, seeking prey  
By moon's pale light, and not by day_

_Scream cut short by spurt of blood  
Who can quell that crimson flood?  
Soft whisper puts you in a daze  
To crave Vampire's cold embrace…"_

"Wow…" Imoen said. "You sure like vampires, don't you?"

"I love vampires", the poet gushed. "Creatures of the night, so beautiful and powerful, they are truly an inspiration to me."

"And have you ever actually seen one?" Zaerini asked.

"No…but I hope I will, one day. It is my fondest desire." His eyes became even more vacant than before and he started sweating a little.

"I see", Edwin said with a small smirk. "And this would of course have nothing to do with the fabled ability of the vampire to erotically entrance its prey?"

The poet's cheeks suddenly turned violently red. "Certainly not!" he said in an outraged voice. "You insult my Art by implying such things! You…you barbarian! Prancing around here with your little tarts!"

"You know", Rini said in a deadpan voice, "I don't think it's possible to add further insult to your 'Art'. Now let me quote something to you, straight out of one of the Bard's masterpieces. 'Thou, sir, art like unto the exudations of the bean-lover. Loud and noxious, pollution of sweet air undeserving of such cruelty." She allowed herself a slow and leisurely smile. "In case your limited vocabulary kept you from understanding the words of the Master I'll translate. I just called you a fart. Is that simple enough for you? Or should we resort to more physical arguments? This 'tart' is nothing if not flexible." She put her hand on Varscona's hilt.

"Allow me to add", Edwin said, "that any self-respecting vampire would probably have to be starving as well as without any sense of smell before it decided to snack on you. The news may not have reached everybody this far west, but in Thay we have developed this habit of occasionally doing something we call 'washing'. (I would mention soap, but I fear that concept would put too great a strain on his already overheated brain.)"

"Yeah!" Imoen huffed. "So…so there! You big creep, you!" 

The poet looked even paler than before and he crept off without uttering another word. "Phew", Rini said and wrinkled her nose. "That was annoying."

"Yes", Edwin agreed. "And yet also satisfying. (She certainly has some natural aptitude for creative insulting. Very interesting.)"

"Thanks", Rini said with a bright smile that caused the Red Wizard to look more than a little awkward. "That's a very nice thing to say, you know. I really mean that." She paused to clear her throat. "So…how about taking a look at that exploding ogre we heard mentioned earlier?"

The 'Exploding Ogre' act was run by a mage who called himself 'The Great Gazib' of all things. A skinny man with slightly manic eyes he summoned up a creature that he named 'The Amazing Oopah'. Oopah looked and behaved like an ordinary ogre, except for the small detail of exploding into tiny pieces of gunk immediately after being summoned. 

"Oh yuck!" Imoen said. "The poor thing…"

"Don't you worry, little lady", the mage assured her. "He's trained to do this. Doesn't mind it one bit. Fun for the whole family! Now, let's try that crowd pleaser one more time."

"Fascinating", Edwin said, looking very interested indeed. "How did you accomplish that adaptation of the common conjuring spell? Is it to do with air friction and setting the runes for a higher entry speed?"

"Now, now", Gazib said with a secretive smile. "I can't be expected to give all my trade secrets away, can I? But for just ten more gold you may examine the procedure to your hearts content, good colleague!"

Edwin immediately started haggling over the price, claiming that since the novelty had worn off the sum should be reduced. Rini tuned his voice out and idly watched some other performers. Some jugglers caught her interest, a group of people in silver facial masks who were performing some distance away. One young woman skillfully tossed flaming torches high into the air, a rotund gnome worked with clubs. A tall fellow a little further off was nonchalantly spinning a large assortment of sharp knives through the air, along with what seemed to be an apple. He then proceeded to peel, cut and eat the apple while keeping the knives flying. _Now that's a trick I'd like to learn_ , Rini thought admiringly. Just then her thoughts were interrupted by a large 'BOOM' as Oopah exploded once again. 

"Hm", Edwin said, "I think I have it now. Just the one more time and I will know for sure. (Yes, I always thought I would be admirably suited for magical research. And this time there will be no constraints put on my natural inquisitiveness either.)"

Gazib licked his lips and looked just a little bit nervous. "You're either a die-hard fan or a sadist, friend...", he said. He started the summoning spell but interrupted himself before it was quite finished and started whispering to the empty air beside him. "(No, Oopah, just one more, one last one, then you can go back to the tent... Oopah, put the weapon down -- Oopah?) AAaeee!" With a furious roar the large ogre materialized again. This time he didn't explode, however. Instead he seized Gazib with one large hand and swiftly snapped the mage's neck with a sound reminiscent of a breaking twig. Then he threw the lifeless body to the ground and turned around to look for other victims. 

"Scram!" Imoen screamed. "Mad ogre incoming!" She immediately took her own advice, the bard and the wizard following her example in an effort to get far enough away from the raging ogre to be able to safely use spells and arrows. 

"Maybe…", Edwin panted as he ran, "just maybe…I should have been satisfied with two experiments…"

"Oh you think so, do you?", Rini snarled as she dodged a club blow that would have smashed her head like an egg. "Whatever…gave you… that idea?" Imoen had managed to get behind some empty barrels and was firing her bow as quickly as she could. The ogre had taken a few hits, but that hadn't slowed him down much. Zaerini managed to get off one of her own arrows, one of the poisoned ones, and Oopah screamed with pain as it hit him in the shoulder. One of Edwin's Magic Missiles struck him at the same time, but he still kept coming. _I just have to keep him away until the poison has the time to finish him_ , Zaerini thought and drew her sword. She didn't really like the idea of going into close combat with an angry ogre, but she didn't seem to have much choice. The half-elf raised her sword with trembling hands and sent a silent prayer to Tymora. It couldn't hurt. Edwin frenziedly began the casting of another spell, but it was taking too long. The ogre roared again and started raising his club. Then he whimpered with sudden pain as something struck him hard on the nose and made it start bleeding. The whimper turned into a moan as the poison from the arrow worked its way through his system and he sagged to the ground, quite dead.

_Wow, Tymora works fast these days_ , Rini thought.

"What…", Edwin said as he picked up the object that had hit the ogre. It was an half-eaten apple. "Where did…"

Zaerini looked hastily in the direction of the jugglers. They were all bowing to the audience after having finished their performance, but if the knife-juggler was among them she didn't see him, nor did she see that silver mask anywhere else in the crowd. "Never mind", she said. "Just somebody trying to be helpful, I guess. Let's check out the tents instead, I feel like getting away from these crowds for a while."

The half-elf sheathed her sword again and pushed through the now heavy and very interested crowd towards some tents in the distance, Imoen close behind. Edwin lingered behind for a moment, and he gave the apple a very suspicious look before he put it in his pocket. As he did so he could feel something else inside the pocket, something that certainly hadn't been there before. It was a note, brief and to the point, and he was very familiar with the handwriting. The message was short and would have been difficult to understand for unwanted eyes. 

_Brain Locust after sunset. Be discreet._

It wasn't signed, of course, but the Red Wizard knew who had left it and that he had better comply. He would simply have to find a way to do so or suffer the consequences. 

Meanwhile Jaheira was mostly satisfied with the results of her shopping expedition. Having refreshed herself with a decent glass of mead she'd preoccupied herself with selling off some unwanted gear. Several merchants had set up temporary shop at the fair, and among all the rubbish they sold to their less discerning customers there were also some fairly decent items. After some persuasion, their prices had dropped from ludicrous to reasonable. Jaheira had started off with replenishing her stack of healing potions. Then she had bought herself a new pair of boots, slightly enchanted ones that would let her feet feel the soil whenever she wanted and touch the currents of the earth to help her find her way. She didn't intend to get lost again. She'd also been able to find a new bow for Imoen, one that would help her fire her arrows at greater speed. The girl was getting good, but a little extra help couldn't hurt. But the greatest prize so far had been the necklace. She had had to haggle for a long time to get the prize down, but it was worth it. The necklace would fire balls of flame from a distance, and Jaheira thought it was just the sort of thing Zaerini would find useful. It should come in handy in a battle, as long as the girl didn't kill herself with it. 

_Still_ , Jaheira thought, _she is very intelligent, if impulsive. And this thing will hopefully help her stay alive and help me keep my promise to Gorion. Oh, my old friend, how did you ever manage to keep that child in line? Sometimes it feels as if I am trying to grasp a moonbeam or catch a drop of quicksilver. But despite her youthful foolishness she has a good heart, I think. I believe I would try my best to aid her even if it were not for your sake._

The druid finished her purchase and exited the tent to find Khalid and Xan talking to another merchant, this one a dwarf dressed all in dark green and with a large hood on his head. His brown beard had been carefully braided. "Yes, come one, come all!", he cried out in a loud and rather annoying voice. "Take a look at the stone warrior maiden. How long has she been trapped in this petrified form, no one knows! Be the first to learn, for the mere price of 500 gold. For that small amount of money, I shall give you a magic scroll, and with this scroll you can release the maiden from her stone prison. Think of the gratitude she would feel to her saviours. Perhaps she's a princess from some far-off land, or maybe a powerful sorceress in search of a concubine. You can't afford not to know! Buy the scroll!"

Jaheira now noticed a stone statue some distance behind the dwarf, a statue of a young woman with a look of surprise and anger on her face, her hands half raised as if to defend herself. With a strong wave of disgust, the druid realized that this was no real statue at all, but a human woman petrified by magic. And here this miserable merchant was trying to profit off her tragedy! "You have a scroll to release this woman?" Jaheira asked, her voice flat. "And you have not done so yourself?"

The dwarf saw the look on the druid's face and his face turned almost as green as his hood. "Er…", he said. "Just trying to…er…cover my expenses? It cost me quite a bit to buy her off that mage…"

"B-b-buy her?" Khalid asked, his voice filled with outrage. His normally kind eyes were almost black with anger and his cheeks were flushed. "That i-is m-m-m-monstrous!"

"Not to mention illegal", Jaheira added with a thin smile as she fingered the hilt of her scimitar. "I am sure the guards at this fair would have something to say about that. Now. Hand. Me. That. Scroll." The dwarf took one look at the druid's dark scowl and hurriedly thrust the scroll into her outstretched hand. Then he ran off as quick as his legs could carry him. 

"Good riddance", Jaheira muttered before unrolling the scroll. At least the thing seemed genuine, she had been half afraid the scoundrel had been trying to sell her a forgery. As she read the scroll the uniform grey of the statue transformed into living colors. Gold and brown, green and blue. At last a living, breathing woman stood before the three adventurers, looking quite exhausted and very much confused. She was a tall woman, blond and blue-eyed, with the look of a Northener about her, and she was quite full-figured. Xan certainly looked impressed with what he saw, and for once his face had lost that look of despair. Khalid gave the strange woman a quick look and then he winked slowly at his wife as if to let her know that he knew exactly what she was thinking. Jaheira sighed a little. She loved him and trusted him completely, and she knew that he considered her the most desirable female on the face of Faerun. But she also could never shake the feeling that every other woman they met might see the same gentle strength that she saw in him and try to take him for herself. Not that Khalid would ever betray his wife, but even the thought of some woman trying to tempt him was enough to make Jaheira see red. 

"Curse you Tranzig!" the blonde woman bellowed. "I will…I…" She paused and looked about herself with wonder. "What sorcery is this?" she said. "Where did…oh…I remember." She bowed to the adventurers and winced with pain as she did so. "I am Branwen, a War-priest from the Norheim isles. I have been trapped in stone for what seems like an eternity. You have saved me, and for that I owe you my life. I am indebted to you and by Tempus I leave no debt unpaid! Let me join whichever cause you're fighting for; I should make a valuable ally and bring the favor of the Lord of Battles upon us."

"How did you come to be trapped in stone?" Jaheira asked after having introduced herself, Khalid and Xan. The woman's face was more than proud, it was stiff with arrogance. The druid couldn't bring herself to like her, valuable ally though she might be. Besides, the blonde was staring at Khalid with great interest. And it was not as if she couldn't handle the healing the group needed by herself.

"I ran afoul of a mage", the priest said and spat on the ground. "Tranzig was the foul dog's name, an employee of a mercenary group. He cursed me into living death. I shall see him dead before I see the shores of home again!"

"I see", Jaheira said, deciding not to mention just yet that she knew where Tranzig might be found. "The decision on who comes with us does not rest with me alone, however. I must first speak with the leader of our group."

The blonde woman nodded. "That is proper", she said. "No doubt another powerful warrior of great renown." She gave Khalid a wholly unnecessary smile.

"No doubt", Jaheira said in her driest voice. "We will meet her later tonight and see what she has to say." _And perhaps I can manage to hand her that Fireball Necklace before the meeting. She would not kill you, but I think a little fire applied to your backside might aid you in keeping your eyes to yourself_.


	14. The Games We Play

**In The Cards 14 - The Games We Play**

_Carnival is a word traditionally associated with fun and games, with feasting and merriment. It’s also traditionally associated with amorous adventures with the attractive person of your choice. Some of these end better than others, of course._

_Excerpt from ‘Ruminations Of A Master Bard’_

The first tent Zaerini and her companions entered was a small one, with no sign outside. Once they got inside, they paused for a moment to allow their eyes to adjust to the faint light inside. After a few seconds they realized that this didn't seem to be an ordinary shop, but a fortune teller's tent. There was a small table covered with a purple cloth, and on the table stood a crystal ball. The smell of incense was heavy in the air, cloying and sweet. It made Rini feel like gagging, she'd never been able to stand that smell. The fortune teller herself was a stately middle-aged woman, dressed in mage robes that implied she was a genuine diviner rather than a con artist. She stood by the table, speaking in a low and angry voice with a man, another mage by the looks of it. He seemed absolutely furious with the woman, and he was shaking his fist beneath her nose. Then he noticed the three adventurers and turned towards them, his face almost purple with rage.

"You there, stay back!!", he threatened. "If any of you come any closer, I'll kill her. I'm serious. Don't make me do it. All I have to do is say the last word of my spell and she'll die."

Rini didn't doubt that he meant it. He certainly looked crazy enough. "What's this all about?" she asked cautiously. 

"She's a witch. She'll use her magics to poison the children of this town. She'll butcher the livestock and she'll seduce the young men, make them her puppets. She must be killed!" The man was almost frothing at the mouth by now. 

Rini snorted with amusement. "What are you talking about? Why the prejudice against a magic user? You said it yourself that you're a mage. After all, aren't you going to kill her with your "magic word?" Get a hold of yourself, you idiot."

The mans eyes almost popped out of their sockets. "Are you mocking me? No one mocks the great Zordral. You will pay for your insolence!" The 'great Zordral' immediately triggered a mirror image, causing four identical copies of himself to spring into existence around him. The Magic Missiles cast by the bard and the Red Wizard made sure they didn't last long though. Zordral hissed with anger and cast another spell, summoning a large wolf that leapt towards the adventurers, growling and snapping. Before it could reach them a swarm of angry kobolds out of Edwin's wand started pelting it with arrows, and Rini and Imoen were using their own bows against the enemy wizard. After being hit with a couple of arrows the wolf was hurting and truly angry. It turned on the human closest to it, who just happened to be Zordral. Strong jaws crushed his hand before he could cast another spell, and he screamed with pain before being covered by a pile of yipping kobolds. Each one of the creatures might not look like much, but their small teeth were very sharp. Zordral didn't get up again, and as for the wolf it made a rapid escape out of the tent. 

"Thank you for rescuing me", the diviner said after the kobolds had all puffed into air once more. She still looked rather pale and shaken from her experience, but she recovered quickly. "I am Bentha, and yes you could call me a witch, for I do use magic. However, I have no intentions of killing the livestock or 'seducing' the young men. Zordral is an old enemy of mine, one who has caused me and my family great pain over the years. If you had not walked in at that moment, I would have been killed. The fool wanted me to tell his fortune. He was ignorant enough to think that he could take on Durlag's Tower on his own. I did as he asked, if only to try to avoid a fight. But when I told him that his planned venture would leave him dead if he went through with it, he didn't take the news kindly. Few people can handle knowledge of their own future. I must thank you again. Is there anything that I can do to help you? I would tell your fortunes, but I can tell that at least one of you is more adept at that than I will ever be." She smiled at Zaerini and the half-elf felt her cheeks go hot. 

"Some regular information would be quite enough", she said. "You mentioned Durlag's Tower. I've heard of that before. A vast dwarven fortress, supposedly filled with treasure but also crawling with monsters. Isn't that so?"

"Yes", Bentha said. "It is so. Only a tiny fragment of it has been properly explored since the death of Durlag Trollkiller, and many adventurers have died trying to learn its secrets. You should not…" Then the woman shuddered and went silent. Her eyes rolled back in her head, until only the whites were showing. When she spoke again her voice was raspy and monotonous. "The dark Tower waits for you, Child of Bhaal", it said. "The Tower of Durlag is your destiny but take heed! It may also become your tomb, should you seek it too soon! When the path to your enemy seems the clearest, that will be the time to turn aside. Seek the Tower then, and let your Brother wait for you. You will find him when the time is right, and you will face him in the House of your Father!" She shuddered violently. "The Children…there are… others. And one is…is…no, I cannot see. But there is someone else. Somebody more dangerous." Bentha's brow was slick with sweat and she suddenly turned as white as a sheet. "NO!" she screamed. "The empty shell! The Lost One! The mask and the knives! Get him away! Get him away from MEEEEEE!" Suddenly the fortuneteller snapped out of her trance, looked about her like a woman mad with fear and then rushed out of the tent without a second look back. The adventurers simply stood there for a minute, without speaking. 

"So", Zaerini finally said and tried to sound flippant to mask the urge of her teeth to chatter. "Seems other fortune tellers can see even worse things in my future than I can myself. And here I was hoping for a promise of a long and happy life, a devoted family and lots of fame and fortune."

"Don't even try to joke about it!" Imoen said. "That sounded really bad."

"As if being a Child of Bhaal wasn't bad enough." Rini shook her head. "My…brother", she said. "It actually makes sense. I should have guessed it before."

"Guessed what?" Edwin asked. 

"Sarevok. He's my brother, a Child of Bhaal as I am. Like I said, I should have guessed it before, from my dreams and from what Gorion told me." She paused. "And he wants me dead, and I still need to kill him before he kills me. But I can't help but wonder…"

"What?" Imoen asked, looking concerned. 

"What **his** dreams have been like." Then the half-elf shook her head. "It makes no difference right now", she said. "And I have no idea what any of that other stuff meant, except that Durlag's Tower should wait for later, not that I was planning to go there anyway."

"And where are you planning to go right now?" Edwin asked in a very serious voice and without a trace of his common mockery.

Zaerini managed to produce a faint smile. "Why, to the gambling tents", she said. "I need some relaxation to calm my nerves."

"Gambling tents?" Edwin asked, sounding rather disapproving. "You would waste our money on games of chance? (We should save all we can for spell scrolls. And besides, I much prefer chess.)"

Imoen playfully nudged the Red Wizard in the side, causing him to give her an annoyed look. "Don't you worry", the young thief said. "The way Rini plays, chance has nothing to do with it."

"That's right", the bard said, gifting Edwin with a predatory grin. "The way I play dice or cards they are games of skill, not luck. It's all in the head and the fingers, you know…" 

Two hours later things were going very well. Zaerini had settled upon the tent that housed the card tables. There were several of them, as well as roulette wheels, dice games and simple lotteries. Having watched the different games for some time she was certain that most if not all the games were rigged. Very few players seemed to win anything, and the ones that did win big she suspected of being associates of the dealers. Eventually she settled upon one of the dice games, a simple one where you bet your money on the highest toss. She played carefully at first, betting only small sums, and wasn't surprised when she mostly lost. But she knew what to look for and she had managed to see the manager of the table switch the dice whenever one of the players seemed close to winning big. _Well, two can play that game_ , Rini thought. When next the dealer threw his fake dice, and was just about to rake in the winnings, she hastily nicked the dice off the table.

"Oh, these are really very pretty!" she gushed in what she liked to think of as her 'stupid, naive little girl' voice. "I think my Daddy would like a pair." 

_Actually_ , Softpaws remarked from her chosen spot in the shadows, _I think he'd prefer tossing skulls around._

_Not now, Softy. I need to concentrate_. The half-elf tossed the dice back on the table with an innocent smile and tried to make her eyes look as wide and vacant as possible. Not the same dice, though. These were completely ordinary. "In fact," Rini said, "I'm so sure he'd love them that I'll bet everything I've got on them." She could hear Edwin start to say something behind her back and then a muffled cry as Imoen trod on his foot. 

"Let's go outside for a bit", Imoen said and pulled the still sputtering wizard along with her. "You don't want to disturb Rini when she's playing."

"Sorry about the interruption", Zaerini said with another charming smile and placed all her money on the table. She was secretly pleased to see the manager's eyes boggle with badly masked greed. "Double the sum if I win, right? I never can seem to remember these complicated things…" For a moment she wondered whether she'd laid it on too thick, but the manager was too far gone to notice.

"Certainly, certainly", he breathed. Then he tossed the dice. Then his face went a ghastly shade of gray as he saw the result. A two and a three. Not what he'd been expecting at all.

"Oh, isn't this exciting?" Rini said and fluttered her eyelashes at him, getting an inaudible stutter in return. "Now let me see…" She picked up the dice and let them dance around her palm, finally throwing them down. This time it was the fake pair, and she smiled at what she saw. A six and a five. Not the highest toss, that would look too suspicious, but one that would win most of the time. "Wow!" she exclaimed and then made herself giggle loudly. "I win!" She handed the dice back to the manager and gathered up the winnings. The man looked at her with an equal mixture of hate, confusion and despair. He might suspect that he'd been conned, but he couldn't prove it, not without risking exposing himself to the large crowd of rowdy fair goers who were congratulating the bard on her triumph. Rini gave him a mock salute and left the table. _And now_ , she thought, _perhaps a little game of cards…_

Imoen, at this time, was also feeling very pleased with herself. She'd met a very nice merchant, one who sold amazing potions. The red sounded great, but the violet one was even better by the looks of it, and she'd bought them amazingly cheap. "Look Eddie!" she said. "Aren't these…" Then she paused and looked about her with some surprise. Edwin had been right behind her only a few minutes ago, but now there was no sight of him anywhere in the crowd, and it was starting to get dark so her chances of easily finding him weren't all that great. _Oh well_ , Imoen thought. _He probably just saw some interesting act or something and went to check it out. Speaking of which, I think I'll take a look at that shooting range…_ The pink-haired girl wandered off with a big smile of anticipation on her face, Edwin's whereabouts dismissed from her mind. 

Edwin had actually managed to slip away several minutes earlier, and now he was making his way towards his appointed destination. He'd passed into the woods surrounding the fairground and kept to the dark shadows beneath the trees rather than passing across the fairground itself and risk one of his traveling companions spotting him. Fortunately, it was highly unlikely that any of them would venture inside the tent he was heading for, and no doubt this was exactly what his mentor had intended. The Red Wizard's lips twisted into an amused smile. Brain Locusts… It was an old and private joke. His teacher had strong opinions on Black Lotus and all other artificial ways of dulling the mind, stating that there were enough imbeciles in the world already without his student willingly joining their ranks. Edwin agreed with this, his brain was his greatest advantage over all the pawns on the chessboard of life, and he could see no point in paying good money for the privilege of ruining it. 

At the eastern edge of the fairground, apart from the acts and the more innocent fun there stood a lone tent. Its exterior was ordinary, with the same blue-and-white stripes as so many of the others. But once inside you entered another world entirely, at least if you were prepared to pay for it. Soft cushions were spread all over the ground, and customers lay on them. Some of them muttered softly to themselves, lost in their dreams. Others moaned as nightmares seized them, and yet others simply slept, too oblivious to know or care where they were. The patron of this temporary haven for present and future addicts approached, and smiled ingratiatingly at Edwin, offering him a cushion. 

"In a moment perhaps", the Red Wizard said. "I will choose a seat myself. And once I do, I wish to be left alone. Do you understand me?" He gave the man a dark stare that caused him to titter nervously and retreat into the shadows. Edwin looked about, trying to be casual as he scanned the faces of the customers. None of them seemed familiar in the least, but then he was not expecting that. And then what had seemed a carelessly tossed aside heap of murky blankets stirred and melted into the formless shape of a hunched-down beggar, his features completely hidden by the deep hood of a cloak patched so many times that it had no color whatsoever except 'dark and probably dirty'. "Commendably prompt I see", the creature murmured in low voice that Edwin instantly recognized as that of his teacher. "That is good, at least your absence didn't make you forget that I hate being kept waiting. Now. Tell me what you have been up to lately."

"…and next we will be going back to Nashkel to get the reward", Edwin finished his tale. "Did I tell you about the Wand of Monster Summoning yet?"

"Yes", Dekaras said. "About…let me think…four times so far. But please feel free to do so once again. The story might have changed in the last five minutes, after all."

"Oh", Edwin said, feeling a little sheepish. "Well, I suppose that's it then."

"Not so fast". The assassin leaned forward to give his student a very penetrating look. Edwin squirmed uncomfortably on the pillows where he was sitting, trying to look casual. He suddenly had a terrible flashback from his childhood, and of trying to explain just how come he had been caught trying to get inside the Assassins' Guild, after having been specifically told not ever to go there on his own. There had been that same sensation of those black eyes looking right through him, searing him to the bone. "There is something you neglected to mention during the course of your tale", Dekaras said in an infinitely patient voice. "And what is that, hmmm?"

"Nothing", Edwin said, with no idea of what his teacher was getting at. "Honestly, I can't think of anything I've left out."

"Really. Not even the fact that you've said nothing at all about how your own assignment has been proceeding?"

"Oh. That."

"Yes. That. That tiny and insignificant little detail, too trifling for you to remember among all these monsters, bounty hunters and lost little demons that you seem to have occupied yourself with. That small, humble detail that just might make your superiors among the Red Wizards very upset with you if you don't start paying some attention to it. That detail. The reason why we are both sitting about this filthy establishment of drug-induced entertainment, rather than enjoying a quiet dinner at home. Need I go on?"

"Er…no." Edwin thought about how he should best explain his actions, or rather inaction. "It's just…well…"

"Perhaps I should send out for food", the assassin said in a frosty voice. "I wouldn't want to starve to death while you construct some flimsy pretext for neglecting your duties. Duties that, I might add, you volunteered for."

Edwin's mind raced furiously. Since he didn't quite know himself why he'd been putting off doing what he had to do, explaining his reasons was going to be difficult to say the least. And then inspiration struck him. "I've just been trying to get to know the girl better", he said. "Learn her motivations, so that I will be better equipped to approach her on the subject of Thay. You've always told me that I should plan better and not be so rash, haven't you?" _Yes, that's it,_ he thought. _I can't imagine why I haven't realized it myself earlier. I knew there had to be a logical reason for this strange reluctance to carry on with the plan_

"True enough", Dekaras said, his voice less disapproving than before. "Still, there is a difference between planning and procrastinating. You need to learn that difference, and soon." He lowered his voice even further than before. "I don't like to worry you, but you need to know this. A group of Red Wizards passed through Nashkel only three days ago on their way north."

Edwin felt as if he had suddenly received a blow to his stomach. "What?" he gasped. "Are…are you sure?"

"They wore red mage robes and spoke Thayvian. If you have an alternative suggestion, I'd be most interested to hear it. Of course, the fact that they mentioned you by name would make me rather difficult to convince."

"They were sent to keep tabs on us?" Edwin asked, his voice flat. "The Zulkir doesn't trust me to handle this?"

"Don't feel too bad about it, boy. If he were a trusting person, he wouldn't have become Zulkir in the first place." The assassin gave Edwin an extremely serious look. "However, you need to be careful. You cannot afford to wait eternally. If they think you have betrayed Thay they will not hesitate to try to kill both of us. Under the right circumstances I would of course be able to handle them, but in an open battle the odds would favor the Wizards. I can, after all, only be in one place at a time." He rose from the pillows in a single, fluid motion, and Edwin hurriedly scrambled to his feet as well. "I should leave", Dekaras said. "While you handle your side of things, I think I will look into these bandits you mentioned and see if I can come up with useful information for you. Remember what I have told you, and please, try to be more careful. That stunt you pulled with the ogre earlier was rather unnecessary, don't you think?"

Edwin hauled out the apple he had pocketed earlier. "How come you didn't just throw a knife at him?" he asked. 

"It wasn't necessary, and I couldn't very well have walked up to your little friends and asked to have my dagger back, could I? Never waste spells or weapons if you can help it. You should know that by now."

"Teacher Dekaras?" Edwin said. "You trust me, don't you?" He wasn't sure why he had suddenly felt the urge to ask that, but he hadn't been able to help himself. He saw his tutor raise an eyebrow and give him a very strange look, one that hinted at some deeply hidden emotion. Then the assassin put his hand on Edwin's shoulder and squeezed it reassuringly. 

"Of course I do", he said soothingly. "While I wouldn't trust you not to blow yourself up with some 'fascinating' magical artifact you happen to stumble across, I do trust you when it comes to other important things." He smiled briefly. "Such as my life, assuming you consider that of some small worth. Now, try not to worry overmuch. Do what you were sent to do, don't be afraid to ask for help if you feel you need it, and everything is going to be all right." He pulled the tattered beggar disguise closer around him, gave Edwin a final nod and walked out of the tent. 

Edwin remained standing for a moment, trying to make sense of his thoughts. He should have felt better, and in a way he did. So why did he also feel as if he was standing on top of a widening gulf in the ground, unable to choose which way to jump? With a deep sigh the Red Wizard exited the tent. He couldn't afford to remain much longer; he should return to Zaerini before the bard began to wonder where he was. Sorting out his thoughts would simply have to wait for later.

Imoen, meanwhile, was getting a little annoyed. The shooting range consisted of several different games, all of them trying to attract customers by tempting them with different prizes. But there was only one thing Imoen really wanted to win, and sadly enough she didn't seem to be able to do so, no matter how she tried. The item in question was the big prize of the 'Bouncy Balls' game, where you had to throw balls at piles of wooden blocks and knock them down. Imoen tried her best, but she never was able to knock over every single block, and that's what it took to win the grand prize. True, she'd won some candy and fake jewels, but that was small consolation. Eventually she decided to give it a rest and go back to find Rini. The half-elf should have cleaned out the house by now. 

Imoen made her way slowly across they fairground, busily counting her 'treasures'. So busily, in fact, that she failed to notice that she had entered an area where there were hardly any people around at all, and where it was very dark between the tents. Suddenly she saw a bright flash of color in front of her and was startled to see somebody approach. It was a man attired in clothes of so many clashing colors that he resembled a peacock more than anything else. He had a narrow, haughty face with close-set eyes, and he gave Imoen an extremely disdainful look. "Oh, how dreadfully unposh you are! I mean, honestly, this is a carnival, not a gladiator's ring..."

Imoen thought this rather rude, but she decided to give the man a chance. Perhaps those clothes had given him a headache or something. "My name's Imoen", she told him with a friendly smile. "What's yours?"

The man simply sneered at this. "Mon namen est Imoooeeen", he said in a ridiculous piping voice, "vott iss yorse?"

Imoen was starting to get angry. This mean jerk was making fun of her, for no reason at all. Just like Abduh. "Okay, now that's enough!" she said, trying her best to sound intimidating. It came out as more of a frustrated squeak and the man didn't seem very impressed. 

"Hokey-dokey", he piped, "like dat's enuff now, eh?"

That did it. "You big meanie!" Imoen cried out. "I'll…I'll…I'll give you such a spanking, see if I don't!" She rushed at the man, fully prepared to slap him in the face and hopefully wipe that smirk off it at the same time. But as she did, she felt him grasp her about the waist and yank her purse loose, before giving her a shove that made her land on the ground. Then he laughed, a loud and shrill laughter that reminded Imoen of a donkey, and he ran off. 

_I can't believe I fell for that!_ Imoen told herself as she hurriedly got to her feet and sprinted off after the man. _How could I have been so stupid? I'm supposed to be a thief, aren't I?_ The man obviously wasn't a good enough pick-pocket to sneak up on his victims, and so must have developed this strategy to make them drop their guard. Imoen wasn't going to stand for losing her money, however. Those clothes were practically glowing in the dark, and she finally spotted the pickpocket again. He had slowed his pace and walked casually along, heading off behind one of the larger tents into yet another secluded area. Probably he was already seeking another victim. Imoen slowly followed, careful not to be spotted. As she turned around the corner of the tent, she could see the colorful clothes again. The man was standing with his back to her, and he seemed to be talking to somebody who she couldn't quite make out in the shadows. 

"You need a new tailor", he said, "your clothes are absolutely dreadful!" 

"And you need a new brain", was the contemptuous reply, "but you do not see me making personal remarks about it, do you?"

The buffoon faltered a little at this, but he promptly rallied. "What a fahbulous carnival, dahling!" he said. "Except for all the scum. Away with you, beggar!"

If the pickpocket had expected this to enrage his would-be victim into a rash attack it appeared he was mistaken. There were a few seconds of absolute silence, during which Imoen could hear nothing except for her own racing heart. Her breath sounded unnaturally loud as well. Then that other voice spoke again, with a familiar calm finality that reminded Imoen of the lid of a coffin slamming shut. "Ah. You wish to learn what I keep in my pockets.”

There was a swift movement in the shadows, and then a thunking sound followed by a wet and bubbling strangled moan. Then the colorful pickpocket was in a heap on the ground, coughing and choking to death on his own blood that spurted from the fatal stab that had just punctured his lung. His killer pulled off the torn cloak he had been wearing and threw it on the ground next to the corpse, showing himself to be wearing well-fitting black leathers beneath. "Unbelievable", he said to himself in a disgusted voice. "I spend hours perfecting that cloak and some fool has to go and bleed all over it. Well, I suppose I won't be needing it right now anyway." Then he turned his head. "Are you going to stand there much longer?" he asked. "If you don't come out, I'm going to start charging admission."

Imoen fairly bounced out from her hiding-place, a big smile on her face. "Mr Black!" she exclaimed, causing the other rogue to wince slightly. "Boy, am I ever glad to see you! See, this creep came up and started being nasty to me, for no good reason at all, and then I was gonna knock him silly, but he sort of stole my purse instead, which was so jerky of him, I mean I'm a thief, he shouldn't steal from me, and then I ran after him and…" Her torrent of words came to a halt as 'Mr Black' knelt by the corpse and extricated a purse from out of the poisonously green tunic. 

"Yours, I believe?" the tall man said in a faintly ironic voice before tossing the purse to Imoen. "Now, can you please stop carrying on like that before you give me a headache?"

Imoen didn't have time to answer. Yet another fairgoer appeared, and this time it was one she recognized all too well. That silly poet that had harassed her and her friends earlier, the one who was so fond of vampires. The poet took one look at the corpse on the ground in its pool of blood, and at the daunting man in black bending over it, his face slightly dotted with that same red substance, his eyes gleaming with cold fire. "Vampire!" the poet gasped. "Help! Vampire! Undead! Vampire! Guards! Guards! GUAAAARDS! Where are the stakes, the pitchforks, the holy water, the torches? This isn't funny anymoooorrreee…" He died quickly, and with far less pain than he would usually inflict upon his poor unwilling audiences. 

"Is there an idiots' convention around here that nobody has cared to inform me of?" said 'Mr Black' as he went over to pull out a sharp throwing dagger from its lodging-place in the dead poet's eye. 

"Wow", Imoen said, still staring at the second corpse. "I guess he wasn't all that fond of vampires when it really came down to it… Say, can you teach me to do that?" She gave the other rogue a sweet smile. 

"No. I'm extremely busy."

"Awww…", Imoen said, but she immediately brightened again. "Isn't it funny how we keep bumping into each other though? I think that's destiny. Don't you?" She fluttered her eyelashes and made sure to display her dimples prominently. 

"No", said 'Mr Black'. "I think that's some god or other displaying a very nasty sense of humor."

"Aw, you like me, you know you do." Imoen grinned and pointed at the two corpses. "After all, I've seen what happens to people you don't like." She playfully waggled her finger at the tall man, causing him to give her a mildly annoyed look. "It's written in the stars I tell you. Two free spirits, defying the forces of law, partners in crime blazing a trail of unsurpassed daring and skill across the world, and with plenty of cuddling to boot." 

By now the man in black had a distinctly hunted look about him, and he seemed on the verge of cutting his way through one of the tents in order to get away from his ardent young admirer. "Cuddling?" he said, as if he couldn't quite believe his own ears. "I don't…"

"Oh yes. And kissing." Imoen sighed dreamily. "I bet you're a great kisser… Hey, maybe you could teach me?"

"NO! Absolutely not! No kissing."

"Well, all right", Imoen said with another bright smile. "It's so sweet and respectful of you to want to wait for the proper moment. That's…that's so romantic! Chivalrous, like something a knight would do!"

A brief spasm passed across the man's face. "Knight?" he said, sounding like he had just choked on something vile. Oblivious to this Imoen went on speaking, feeling as if she were drifting among pink and fluffy clouds. 

"Now that we know each other", Imoen said, "I really don't think I should keep calling you 'Mr Black'. That sounds way too formal. I know! I'll just call you 'Blackie' instead! Isn't that much nicer?"

If 'Blackie' thought so it certainly didn't show. Instead he looked as if he had just been hit with a ray of petrification. "You're quite sure you're not part halfling?" he said. 

"Well, no. I don't know either of my parents, actually. But I'd be much shorter then, wouldn't I? Oh, and I'm so glad you like it."

"I don't…" Then the tall rogue sighed, obviously resigned to his fate. "Tell you what", he said. "I really do have to leave. Is there something, anything I can do that will persuade you to go back to your friends and refrain from following me?"

"You're on a secret mission?" Imoen asked. "And you don't want me to get in danger?"

"Something like that."

"Well in that case, sure. And it's so sweet of you to want to protect me. If you just do me this one teeny favor first, I'd be ever so grateful…"

Half an hour later Imoen was jumping up and down with glee, clapping her hands. "Great shot!" she laughed. "Wow Blackie, you're the best!" 

"Thank you", 'Blackie' said as he handed the remaining balls back to the stunned-looking proprietor of the 'Bouncy Balls' stand. "Another time you may want to remember that these things are usually rigged to pull slightly to one side. Once you figure out which side, adjusting for it is fairly simple. Now, I believe you were going to pick a prize." 

Imoen pointed at the inanimate object of her desire and the stand manager reluctantly deposited it into her eager arms. The other object of her desire gave the prize a mildly disgusted look. "And you are quite sure that…thing…is what you want?" he asked.

"Oh yes", Imoen beamed, eagerly hugging the shockingly pink teddy bear that was easily half her own size. "He's just perfect." Then she thought of something. "Are you sure you don't want to keep him yourself?"

"Quite sure", the other rogue said. Then he turned to walk away. 

"I'll see you around!" Imoen said.

'Blackie's' back stiffened visibly at this. "Not if I can help it…", he muttered. "She'll have me picking her flowers next, I shouldn't wonder…" He disappeared into the darkness, still shaking his head. 

Imoen started back towards the other side of the fairground where she was supposed to meet her friends. She skipped merrily along, clutching her bear tightly, and she was whistling a happy tune. As far as she was considered this had been the perfect evening.

Zaerini had a very satisfied smirk on her face as she walked out of the gambling tent. It had been a highly profitable evening. She decided that once she'd cleared up her affairs in Nashkel and Beregost she would have to go shopping for new spells. Supposedly there was a place just west of Beregost where you could purchase magic scrolls and potions, as well as enchanted items. She carefully pocketed her winnings and headed towards the designated meeting place. Before she got there, she ran into Edwin. The Red Wizard looked rather gloomy, as if he had a lot on his mind.

"What's with the long face?" Rini asked him. "You don't need to worry, I won. Exactly like I promised."

"Oh. Good."

"Well, that's a slightly less ecstatic reaction than I had anticipated", the bard said. Suddenly a horrible thought struck her. "You haven't been talking too much to Xan, have you?"

Edwin's lips twitched a little at this. "I…was simply thinking about some things", he said. "About home, if you must know."

Zaerini's interest was perked at this. "Really? Feeling homesick, are you? Go on, tell me. I don't know that much about Thay, but I know what it's like to miss people. I still miss Gorion, you know. He's the only father I have ever known, and the only one I want."

It was a minute or so before Edwin responded, and when he did, he spoke slowly as if he were carefully picking his words. "And your Gorion…would you have done anything in order to have saved his life? Even if it was something you felt…reluctant…about?"

"Well, yes. I suppose so." Zaerini thought for a moment. "Still, perhaps not anything. I'd want to be able to look myself in the mirror afterwards, if you know what I mean. So, I wouldn't exactly slaughter babies in order to save him, but apart from that there's not much I wouldn't have done. Why do you ask?"

"Nothing", Edwin said, his face closed to her once more. "I was simply curious. That is all. If you wish, I can tell you a few things about Thay when next we have a moment to spare. That is, if you are interested. (I have to make her understand. One way or another.)"

"Of course, I'm interested. But why…"

At this point the conversation was interrupted by a giant pink bear that came merrily bouncing along the path. "Hi guys!" the bear said. "I've had the greatest time, how about you?" Then Imoen's head peeked out behind the bear's and dissolved all Rini's hopes of having found a strange new species of animal.

"Immy?" she asked. "Wherever did you get that…that thing?"

"Isn't he cute?" Imoen said with a bright smile. "I won him, and I'm gonna keep him forever."

"Regretful as I am to burst your bubble", Edwin said, "don't you think that animal will be just a little unwieldy to bring along on the road? I really can't see him assisting in combat. (On second thought, maybe I can, but the thought is too horrible to contemplate.)"

"Oh, I'll figure something out", Imoen said. "Anyway, I'm not leaving him behind." Her eyes turned dreamy and slightly unfocused. "He's allll mine, and I'll hug him and kiss him and…"

"Er…Immy?" Rini asked. "Don't you think you and the bear should perhaps remain 'just friends'?" Beside her she could hear Edwin snort with amusement.

"Huh?" Imoen asked as she suddenly came back to reality. "Bear?"

"Yes, the bear", Zaerini said, trying not to lose patience with her friend. "That was what we were talking about, remember?"

"Oh. Oh yeah. Sure it was. You bet. The bear. Of course."

"Now that that's settled", Zaerini said, "I think perhaps we should go find the others. It's getting late and most of the attractions are closing. Oh, and Immy?"

"Yes?"

"You want to keep the bear, then you get to carry it."

Once the trio returned to the meeting-place they were surprised by the scene that met them. Jaheira was arguing loudly with some strange woman, a blond and busty warrior who looked even more haughty than the druid at her worst. Behind them stood Khalid and Xan, both of them looking very nervous. 

"No more lies!" Jaheira growled. "You have been doing it all evening. Giving him those little 'casual' looks, rubbing up against him 'accidentally'…"

"You are a sad and pitiful woman", the stranger said with her nose in the air. "I pity you and wonder that you dare call yourself a warrior-born."

"L-l-l-ladies, please…", Khalid tried, wringing his hands.

"Be quiet, Khalid", Jaheira said, never taking her eyes off the blonde. "I will deal with this." She put her hands on her hips and gave the other woman her trademark glare. "And I suppose you are the better warrior then? You who let yourself be trapped in stone by some two-bit mage? Quite frankly, I wonder if perhaps I should not have left you as you were. At least then I would not have to watch you making eyes at my husband, you cheap fraud. Tell me, did you pray for Tempus to enlarge those things you constantly try to shove in Khalid's face, and if so, did he remove the necessary tissue from your brain? That would explain a lot."

"You dare mock my faith?" The stranger looked about ready to try to strangle the druid by now. "I'll have you know that I worship the Battlelord and…"

"I would say that you worship his hammer more than anything else, girl."

_Oooh_ , Zaerini thought. _That was a good one. Never would have guessed Jaheira had it in her._

_It is amusing, isn't it?_ Softpaws agreed. _And to think that the males always seem to believe they are the vicious ones. Of course, it is sometimes useful to let them think so._

_I'll have to remember that._

_You do that, kitten. Oh, look! I think they're about ready to stop with the hissing and go for the throat. My bet is on the druid._

_You know, I think I have to agree with that. I wouldn't want to fight Jaheira when she's got that look in her eyes_.

The blonde woman was making inarticulate throat noises by now, clearly to furious to speak. Zaerini thought it was only a matter of moments before there would be an outright brawl. Fun as that might have been to watch under other circumstances, she really was getting tired by now. A nice bed at the Nashkel Inn sounded like a very appealing option. "Hello, Jaheira", she said in an innocent voice. "I hope I didn't interrupt anything important? You look a little…unbalanced."

"Important?" Jaheira said without taking her eyes off the blonde. Her body was as tense as that of a lioness waiting to pounce on her prey, and Rini had a feeling the druid really would start ripping throats out in a matter of moments. "Only if you consider teaching this…this piece of filth a lesson that will send her howling back to the bitch that spawned her important."

"You dare insult my…"

Rini had had enough. "Yes", she said, "but just who is this piece of fi…that is, who is this woman anyway?"

The blonde clearly took this as her cue to speak. "I am Branwen", she said, "a mighty warrior and priestess of Tempus, Lord of Battles. I would offer to join your group, but this…this madwoman clearly has other ideas."

"So I can see", Rini said in a neutral voice. Whether this woman really had been coming on to Khalid or not, it was obvious that Jaheira thought so and that the two would never get along.

_But will she get along with you, kitten?_ Softpaws asked. _That's the really important thing isn't it?_

_Then we'll just have to find out, won't we? I think a little test is in order._

"So, you want to join us", Zaerini said. "Why is that?"

Branwen puffed her chest out proudly, causing Xan's eyes to almost pop out of their sockets. "I am, as I said, a warrior. But I need aid in order to avenge myself upon the mage Tranzig, the bastard who turned me to stone. You seem like a worthy group of helpmates to assist my cause."

_Oh, now we're getting somewhere. Assist your cause, is it?_

Edwin clearly had a similar reaction. "Ah, your 'cause'", he said. "This would be the 'hero' word for 'self-interest' I take it? Except that when the word 'cause' is used the 'hero' usually expects people to assist him without payment. (As well as to nobly sacrifice themselves for him while he makes a daring escape.)"

"How dare you…"

_She says that a lot, doesn't she?_ Softpaws remarked.

_Probably because her vocabulary isn't all that large_. "He dares because he is already a member of this group", Zaerini said. "I trust him. But can I trust you? That is the question here, isn't it, and I'm not trying to be unfriendly, just cautious. After all, I've already seen you almost get into a fight with one of my friends." 

Branwen lifted her chin even higher. No doubt it was intended as a manifestation of pride, but all it really accomplished was to give Rini a very good view of her nostrils. "I can be trusted always to stand on the side of Good against Evil", she said, "and to be a scourge to the minions of Darkness all over the Realms."

_This is supposed to reassure me?_ Rini thought. _I'd feel a lot better if I knew what she meant by 'Good' and 'Evil'._

_Then ask away, kitten_ Softpaws sounded a little exasperated. _Best way to find out, and it's not as if you can't handle her if she proves troublesome._

"And what of those who were born of evil, through no fault of their own?" Zaerini asked, without going into details. 

A fanatical gleam came into the priest's eyes. "Born of Evil is Evil", she said. "The taint is always present and must be purified through blood."

"Right", Zaerini said and shrugged her shoulders. "I guess that settles everything. Jaheira, please do carry on with what you were doing."

"My pleasure", the druid said before landing a magnificent blow on Branwen's jaw that made the blonde woman actually fly through the air before she landed unconscious on her back. Jaheira rubbed her knuckles and gave the bard a grateful look. "Thank you, child", she said. "I needed that." She then smiled at the adoring look Khalid gave her.

Zaerini grinned and her golden eyes sparkled mischievously. "She brought it on herself", she said. "If she'd been more 'Brainwen' and less 'Brawnwen' I might have been able to stand her, but I can do without raving fanatics."

Xan had rushed to the side of the fallen woman and was clucking and cooing worriedly over her. "You've killed her!" he moaned. "Now what am I going to do? She said she would come with me to Evereska…"

"Nonsense", Jaheira said in a sharp voice. "She isn't dead. A little cold water in the face will bring her around. Or perhaps a lot of cold water…"

At this Branwen's eyes jerked open and she got to her feet. "You…you dare!" she cried. "You Loki-spawn!" 

"There you go with the 'you dare' again", Edwin commented with a smile oozing false sympathy. "Really, it is getting rather tedious. (I would suggest investing in a thesaurus, assuming I believed her capable of actually reading it.) Perhaps you should also pray for your god to grant you the power of speaking without spitting. Tastes may differ, but I for one find that rather off-putting." Branwen hastily clasped a hand over her mouth.

"Actually", Rini said, "from what I gather being a 'Loki-spawn' would suit me just fine, if the Trickster God operated on this plane. A girl could do worse when it comes to divine parentage, and I should know. Now beat it. You're starting to annoy me." 

Branwen's face might as well have been set in stone, but she was obviously wise enough not to press the issue further. "You still coming?" she asked Xan.

The elf nodded and gave Zaerini an apologetic look. "I am truly sorry", he said, "but you are certainly doomed with or without me, and she will take me home to Evereska."

"It's alright", Rini said. "As long as you're happy."

"Oh, I wouldn't say 'happy' exactly. More like cautiously positive." The enchanter waved farewell and trailed off after Branwen who had started walking quickly away from the adventurers. Something about the way she walked reminded Rini of a ship in full storm. A ship carrying a cargo of melons, no less. Xan certainly seemed fascinated enough going by the stunned look on his face.

"If you want me to accompany you, I shall need proper equipment", Branwen told the elf in an imperious voice. "Armor and weaponry of the highest quality, some nice clothes of course, a horse, several pairs of shoes, some more nice clothes…"

"Yes, yes", Xan nodded, never taking his eyes off Branwen's undulating body. "Whatever you say…"

After the pair had disappeared from sight the remaining group of adventurers gave each other a long look. "Are the rest of you thinking what I'm thinking?" Rini asked her friends.

"Yep", Imoen said.

Edwin sneered. "Without a doubt. (Some people are so easily enticed. Pathetic, really.)

"I th-think s-s-so", Khalid stammered. Jaheira simply nodded with a grim smile on her face. Then all of the five spoke as one, their minds and hearts united in one single thought.

"HE'S DOOMED!"


	15. Heroes Of Nashkel

**In The Cards 15 - Heroes Of Nashkel**

_For somebody quite dedicated to the use of words I sometimes marvel at how many things can be said without them, things that the words aren't quite ready to deal with yet. Of course, when speaking body-language you may find yourself saying things without knowing it yourself, and that can create all sorts of other problems…_

_Excerpt from 'Ruminations Of A Master Bard'_

The journey back to Nashkel was uneventful, and once they reached the small town the adventurers went directly to see the Mayor.

"You have returned!" Mayor Ghastkill beamed at them. He looked even more pleased once he had heard the full story of Mulahey and the mines. "It would seem I was right to trust you. The town thanks you wholeheartedly and is pleased to give you the proper reward. Please take this 900 gold for your efforts. It is a small fortune by anyone's standards. Thank you again." He winked at them and smoothed his thin hair back. "And that's not all", he said. "The Town Council has decided that whoever cleared up the mystery of the mines would receive the honorary title 'Hero of Nashkel'. Congratulations to you all! The celebration will be held tomorrow night."

"Celebration?" Rini asked. "Will it be a big one?" 

"Oh, I guess most of the townspeople and farmers will be coming. You may find yourselves quite the celebrities!" He smiled again. "I suggest you all go get a good night's sleep. Most likely you won't go to bed at all tomorrow night."

Once the party had left the Mayor's house Zaerini noticed that Edwin looked rather pale and upset about something. "Heroes of Nashkel?" he sputtered. "I'm a Red Wizard! Not a 'hero'. (If word of this gets spread around, I'll never live it down.)"

"What's wrong with being a hero?" Imoen asked. "I think it sounds wonderful."

"Oh, you do, do you? For your information, 'hero' in Thayvian means 'stupid adventurer likely to work for free, and even likelier to get himself eaten by a dragon.' In other words, 'hero' is not a compliment."

"Oh, quit your griping", Jaheira said. "I worry more about this celebration."

"Come on", Rini said. "How bad could it be? It might be really fun."

Jaheira was just about to respond when she was interrupted by another voice, a strange one. A young man in mostly black clothes was walking swiftly towards them, a determined look on his pointed and vaguely fox-like face. "I am Death come for thee", he said in a voice that Zaerini thought would have been overly theatrical even on the stage. "Surrender, and thy passage shall be ...quicker."

_Really_ , Zaerini thought, _after those ladies we encountered outside the Nashkel Mine I was starting to expect a better class of assassin. This fellow is definitely a step back. Or ten steps back, more likely. Large ones._

Apparently, Edwin was of the same opinion. The wizard looked thoroughly disgusted with this sad specimen of assassin-hood. "No, no, NO!" he exclaimed in a frustrated voice. "That is **not** the way to do this."

"Eh?" the assassin said, sounding rather confused.

"Listen to me", Edwin said and put his arm around the assassin's shoulder in a gesture of friendship. "I may not be trained in the Profession, but even so I know better than to do what you just did."

"What…"

"You don't walk up and introduce yourself to the target like that. That is a definite no-no. And calling yourself 'Death' is just so…tacky. You are very lucky there is no real craftsman around to see you make such a fool of yourself. (In Thay this idiot would not have survived long enough to even enter his apprenticeship, I'm sure.)"

"But…"

"Instead you try to sneak up to the target, take them by surprise or indeed lull them into a false sense of security, and then you kill them." The assassin doubled forward with a sudden scream, clutching at his back where the small knife that Edwin normally used for chopping up spell components now was stuck, penetrating a kidney by the looks of it. "Yes", Edwin said, "something like that. (Not bad, even if I do say so myself. I seem to have a natural talent for this sort of thing.)" Before anybody else had the time to react the Red Wizard followed up with a Magic Missile spell. Several glowing missiles struck the unlucky assassin, and it wasn't long before his screaming stopped. "And that", Edwin said in a very satisfied voice, "is how you assassinate someone. (If only there could have been a more…discerning…audience to see this.)" He then seemed to notice the wide-eyed and open-mouthed faces of his companions. "What?" he asked. "I happen to despise incompetent louts like that. Is that so strange?"

"If you say so", Zaerini said once she found her voice again. "I have to admit that was a really clever move. Shall we see what the corpse of this fool can tell us?" The dead assassin turned out to have a couple of moderately interesting items on his person. A ring that would gift the wearer with elven sight, a lightly enchanted short sword, a pair of boots that would help deflect arrows, and a letter. Zaerini eagerly opened the letter and read it out loud. 

_Nimbul,_

_The money you have received from Tranzig should cover your usual fee. Your assignment is a difficult one, but I'm sure that you are up to the task. There is a group of mercenaries who should be coming through Nashkel in the next few days. They are led by a whelp named Zaerini. You are to kill Zaerini, and all that travel with her. I warn you; they might not look like much, but they are very dangerous. Good hunting!_

_TAZOK_

"Tranzig and Tazok again", Jaheira mused. "I suggest we go on to Beregost as soon as possible to have a little talk with the employer of this so foolhardy assassin."

"We will", Rini agreed. "As soon as this celebration is done. So, I'm 'very dangerous' now, am I? Looks my enemies have upped the ante again. Yes, it will be very interesting to meet this Tranzig."

The evening of the celebration rapidly approached. Zaerini stood before the mirror in her room at the Nashkel Inn, trying to decide what to wear. Imoen was already done, outfitted in a pink and black dress she'd bought earlier at the shop and that somehow made her resemble a large piece of licorice confectionery. The young thief was currently lying on her stomach on the bed, writing in her diary. The fact that this was rumpling the dress didn't really seem to bother her. She sucked noisily on her pen, and sometimes she giggled out loud. Rini was sure she didn't want to know what her friend was writing. She'd happened to catch a glance of a page and seen that there were almost as many hearts doodled in the margins as there were actual words.

_Cats don't fuss this much_ , Softpaws remarked. _All it takes is to give your fur a good lick, and then you're set_ The cat was in fact sitting on the table and was busy cleaning herself. Currently she had managed to get one of her hind legs wrapped around her head and was busily cleaning the inside of her thigh.

_Somehow I think that if I adapted your way of dressing people would react unfavorably. Not to mention your way of washing._

_Oh, you never know. The right male might just like to see that._

_What's that supposed to mean?_

The cat just snickered silently and went on with her washing. Rini shook her head, causing her flame-red locks to dance. Sometimes she simply didn't understand her familiar. She sighed and stared at the mirror again. The red dress? Or the black? She'd been unable to choose in the shop, and so had bought both. Unfortunately, she still couldn't make up her mind. The black created a nice contrast with her hair, but on the other hand the red was very…striking. And it was only right that she should take this opportunity to look her best. She was supposed to be Hero of Nashkel, after all. "Immy?" she asked. "Which dress do you think I should wear?"

"The pink one", Imoen said absentmindedly.

"Pink one? With **my** hair? And I don't even have a pink one."

"Uh…sorry", Imoen said with a sheepish grin. "I was thinking about someo…something else. They both look great, you know."

"But which is more likely to make me look divine?" The bard caught herself. "Sorry. Bad choice of words. I mean, which is more likely to…er…enhance my natural attributes to the point of loveliness? Or do they both make me look awful? They do, don't they?" Zaerini suddenly felt utterly and desperately convinced of the fact. "Go on. You can tell me. I look like a scarecrow. An ugly, skinny scarecrow with messed-up hair and really weird eyes. Perhaps if I use a charm spell, I can keep at least some of the people from noticing." She suddenly stared wildly into the mirror. "Is that a ZIT? It is, isn't it?"

"Rini, it's just a speck of makeup", Imoen said and proceeded to wipe it off. "You look perfect. Hey, if you don't believe me, I'll prove it to you, OK?"

"Prove it? How?"

"You'll see", Imoen said with a sly grin and exited the door. "I'll just have to fetch an impartial judge, won't I? Won't be a sec…"

Edwin, meanwhile, was already finished with his own preparations. A nice long bath, a much-needed haircut and a clean set of robes. Simple and practical. No need to fuss. Admittedly, the robes he had chosen happened to be ones that were slightly more extravagant than his usual ones, both in the cut and in the decorations, but this was supposed to be a festive occasion after all. So what if they happened to be a little more…well…tight…than the other model? It wasn't as if he was some fat old wizard who couldn't pull it off. Besides, it was the current height of fashion back home, and there was nothing wrong with being fashionable or with trying to look your best, wasted as it would probably be on these peasants. Edwin gave himself a critical glance in the mirror. While admittedly tight almost to the point of suggestiveness around the hips and waist, the robes flared out behind him in a nice and dramatic way. Yes, they should do nicely. A sudden knock on the door interrupted his contemplation.

"What is it now?" Edwin asked, irritated at being disturbed. 

"It's me! Imoen! Can I come in?"

Edwin sighed and went to open the door. It was no use trying to get rid of her, he had already learnt that much. If ignored she would likely remain on his doorstep talking through the door until she'd worn down his resistance. "Look", he said as he pulled the door open, "I already said I would look into putting a shrinking spell on your stupid toy so you can stuff it in your pack. (If she nags me about it one more time, I may just shrink myself, if only to be able to hide.)"

"No, no", Imoen said, grinning at him in a way that made her resemble a pink and black chipmunk. "Though it's real sweet of you to do so. No, I just want you to come look at something. Won't take a minute."

"Look at something?" Edwin asked suspiciously. "Such as what?"

"Oh, Rini can't make up her mind about what to wear. I thought she could model her dresses for you, and you can tell her which one is prettier."

At least this was familiar ground, Edwin thought. His own Mother certainly used to take her time making her mind up about what to wear for important parties. "I suppose I could do that", he said. After all, it was such an innocent request, he couldn't see that it could do any harm. 

Zaerini was still staring into the mirror. She was currently wearing the black dress, a slick and shiny one that almost seemed to give off a dark light of its own. And it did set off her hair nicely, she had to admit that. But possibly it made her look too pale. No, she would simply have to try the red one on again. With a frustrated groan she started disrobing once more, wondering what could possibly make her feel more awkward than this.

Edwin followed Imoen through the dark hallway of the Nashkel Inn, hoping that the 'modeling' thing wouldn't take too long. On the other hand, if it did, they just might miss the party and he would be spared the humiliation of being labeled a 'Hero of Nashkel'. He really didn't want to imagine his teacher's reaction to that. 

"Here we are!" Imoen said cheerfully and stopped outside the door to the room the two girls shared. "Ta-Da! Would ya look at that!" She yanked the door open with a flourish and a bow.

Edwin felt his jaw drop halfway to the floor, and he was certain his eyes had just gone as wide as teacups. Zaerini stood in the middle of the floor, head turned in surprise towards the door. She was wearing…not very much actually. A very thin undergarment of some sort, black and sort of lacy. It reached halfway down her thighs, leaving Edwin with a view of pale and shapely legs that reached all the way up to… He quickly yanked his eyes aside, but that wasn't any better, because he wound up staring at her midsection and noticing all sorts of interesting things about her anatomy that had previously been unknown to him, and that garment really didn't conceal much… _Shift_ , Edwin thought wildly, _that's what it's called, isn't it? Don't stare, don't stare, don't stare…Must think of something else. Demonlords. That's it. Think about Demogorgon. Think about Demogorgon naked. No, no. Bad idea. Think about monsters. Golems. List all the known kinds of golems, Edwin. One point each. Yes, sir. Iron Golem, Adamantium Golem, Brain Golem, Clay Golem, Stone Golem, Magic Golem, Flesh Golem… AAARGH! Don't think about flesh! Think of something else. The elements. Water, Earth, Air, Fire…Fire…like…her hair…fire…like…her eyes…_

And indeed, the bard's golden eyes seemed to be on fire, burning with a hot light that matched her flame-red hair. But her face was very pale, except for the two red spots that had flared up in her cheeks, and it looked like it had been frozen into ice. Then she slowly opened her mouth. "IIIMOOOEEEEN!" she screamed, and it sounded like the bloodthirsty screech of a hunting falcon.

"Whooops", Imoen gasped, before she hastily pulled the door shut. Edwin could hear what sounded like a chair hitting it from the other side, along with an enraged shriek. "Don't just stand there looking like a gutted fish", Imoen hissed. "Help me hold the door unless you want her to kill us both."

Zaerini was in fact too angry to make any plan that coherent. Having vented her frustration by throwing what furniture she was strong enough to lift at the door and breaking the mirror with a satisfying shower of Magic Missiles she simply stood there, panting with anger, unable to focus on anything but her burning rage and embarrassment. 

_See?_ Softpaws told her from her hiding-place under the bed. _Didn't I tell you that the male would appreciate the cat way of dressing?_

Jaheira wasn't all that fond of parties. This was a given fact, much like the color of her eyes or her fondness for sleeping outdoors, at least in pleasant weather. But it did not seem as if there was any getting out of this one, and besides it was obviously important to the girls. Yes, the girls. The druid sighed and mused upon how little she had known when she had first agreed to do Gorion what had seemed like a small favor at the time. Imoen by herself wouldn't have been that difficult to handle, most likely. The human girl was the very soul of mischief, and likely to get into trouble, but she was also so innocently cheerful that it was hard to imagine even the most infamous of villains not warming to her. Zaerini now, that was a different matter. The half-elf, too, had an inclination towards mischief. But in her it was coupled with a biting wit and there was always the hint of darkness within. _And yet she has a basically good heart_ , Jaheira thought. _I know that well enough by now, and I will fight to protect her from those who cannot see that. I would do so even had I not sworn it. But I fear for her. She is so reckless and contrary. If she will not listen to my guidance, how can I protect her from the dangers ahead?_

"C-c-copper for your thoughts, m-my love?" Khalid said as he came up behind the druid and sneaked his arm around her waist. They were in a secluded corner in the grand dining hall of Mayor Ghastkill's manor house, and so she allowed a display of affection that she would have tried to avoid in a more visible place.

"I was just thinking about the children", Jaheira said as she turned her head to smile at her husband. 

"You m-mean w-w-worrying."

Jaheira gave a short bark of laughter. "You know me all too well, my husband. Yes, as you say. Worrying. They are so…so…"

"Y-young?"

"Yes. Exactly." She gave a wry smile. "Though I suppose even I cannot very well fault them for that. And of course, they have no idea of exactly how young they are and insist on being treated as adults. I was much the same, you know. And you know how much trouble I got into because of it. I just want to protect them."

"You c-c-can't protect people from themselves, love. They m-m-must make their own m-mistakes." 

Jaheira smiled again and briefly touched her husband's cheek, drinking in the sight of his kind face, his dark eyes shining with love and concern for her. "You are right, of course. Sometimes I wonder just who the wisest of us is."

"J-j-j-j-j-j-jaheira, I…"

"Oh, Khalid. 'twould take a sailor to untie that tongue, I think."

"J-jaheira", Khalid said with feigned annoyance. "M-must you always be so…"

"Insufferable?" the druid asked with an arched eyebrow.

"Y-yes. NO!"

"Beautiful?"

"Y-yes. Yes, that is definitely it."

Jaheira laughed again, a low throaty laugh, and then she forgot all about dead gods and heavy responsibilities for a few moments as she shared a very satisfactory kiss with her husband. When they broke it off, she saw that there were now plenty of townspeople assembled, eagerly standing about in front of the dais that had been erected at one end of the room. Apparently, that was where the award ceremony was going to take place. The druid and the warrior made their way towards the dais, anxious not to be late. It was with some surprise that Jaheira noticed just how respectfully people made way for them, and how many excited whispers that followed them on their way through the room. 

A few minutes later there was a movement in the crowd that began by the large double doors and rippled through the crowds. Edwin came striding up towards the dais, wearing what Jaheira couldn't help but consider an unusually flattering, if not entirely orthodox set of mage robes. The Red Wizard looked neither left nor right as he passed through the room, and he had a rather stunned look on his face. 

"Where are the girls?" Jaheira asked and was surprised to see the wizard almost start out of his skin.

"How should I know?" he asked. "I…I'm not some Helmite am I, always watching everything with my all-seeing eyes? (Don't think about watching. Don't even think about it.)" Then he noticed the dais and gave it a horrified look. "Is that what I think it is?" he asked.

"Probably", Jaheira said. "That is where we will stand as we accept the title 'Heroes Of Nashkel' if that is what you mean."

Edwin visibly paled. "But…but I can't do that!" he protested. "Not up there! Suppose…suppose somebody **sees** me?"

Jaheira looked around the room. She judged that there were approximately seventy or so people here, and more were arriving by the minute, men, women and children. Apparently, the wizard also realized the absurdity of his statement. "What I mean", he said, "is suppose somebody sees me who…er…shouldn't see me. That could all prove very embarrassing. (I would probably get sarcastic comments about it for months. Years even.)"

"What do you mean 'somebody'?", Jaheira asked. "Like who?"

"Like…well…"

"Oh, stop it", Jaheria said, feeling irritated. "There are no Red Wizards about if that is what is worrying you. Stop being such an infant."

Edwin was just about to say something when Imoen came plowing through the crowd, her fluffy pink and black dress billowing out around her like a cloud. "There you all are!" she exclaimed. "Er…any of you seen Rini?"

"Not since…" Edwin started, and then he broke it off.

"Oh", Imoen said and her face fell a little. 

"Children", Jaheira said in a warning voice, placing her hands on her hips. "What exactly is going on here?"

"Nothing!" Edwin and Imoen said at the same time, both looking extremely guilty about something. 

"Nothing? Now, why is it that I do not believe that? I am going to ask you one more time. Where is Zaerini?"

It was at precisely that moment that the double doors opened once more, and a great hush spread through the crowd. Zaerini walked inside the room, her back as straight as that of a queen. As she approached Jaheira thought she could guess why it had taken the girl so long to prepare. The bard was wearing a red dress, one that seemed to gather up all the warm highlights of her hair and eyes and reflect them back, magnified and enhanced, creating the impression of a woman made of pure fire. It also served to enhance her…womanly attributes…in a way that Jaheira was fairly certain Gorion would never have approved of, particularly the rather dramatic bodice. The skirts flowed equally dramatically from her slim waist and a necklace of gleaming amber decorated her pale throat. Her face was very calm and collected, regal almost, but her eyes glittered in a worrying manner as she swept past Edwin and Imoen without sparing them a second look.

"Shall we?" Zaerini asked Jaheira and Khalid, and then stepped onto the dais without waiting for their answer. Jaheria exchanged a curious look with her husband and then followed their young charge, making certain that Imoen pulled the still feebly protesting Edwin along with them.

Once atop the dais Jaheira surveyed the room. For a manor in a small mining town it was grand indeed, the wooden floor had been polished until it glowed with a warm light all of its own, and candles burned brightly on the walls. The tall windows were hung with heavy green curtains that obscured the revelers from any unwanted eyes. In the next room she knew that the dinner table had been set, or rather the dinner tables. A large one for the 'heroes', the Mayor and his family and the town's premiere citizens, several smaller ones for the other guests. And this room was apparently meant to be transformed into a place of dancing once the award ceremony was over and done with. Jaheira wasn't planning on dancing herself. She rarely wore dresses and had satisfied herself with cleaning her armor, donning fresh clothes and brushing out her golden-brown hair until it shone. The children might enjoy it though.

Speaking of children, she was uncertain of whether they were enjoying themselves right now. Zaerini stood in the front, and she certainly seemed to be basking in the adulation of the crowd, but she also seemed to be annoyed about something. Imoen kept giving her friend nervous glances. As for Edwin, he kept trying to hide behind the others, and eventually Jaheira and Khalid had to grasp him firmly by both arms to keep him from sneaking off. He still kept scanning the crowd in a highly agitated manner though.

"…and so", the Mayor went on with a speech that had already lasted half an hour, "I give you the Heroes Of Nashkel! Not only have they defeated the foul villain Mulahey who had tainted our precious ore and let his kobold minions prey upon our brave miners! No, they have taken the time to extend their noble efforts to even the more humble of our citizens, as well as our proud forces of law! Yes, they found the escaped artist Prism, and the emeralds he stole have been returned!"

"What?" Edwin hissed out of the corner of his mouth. "I thought we were going to keep those!"

"They were stolen", Jaheira responded in an equally discreet fashion, while keeping her wide smile plastered across her face, "and I returned them this morning."

"But…"

The crowd cheered wildly.

"Furthermore", the mayor went on, "they brought back news of one of our dear departed friends. Miner Joseph may be lost to us, but his poor widow at least knows his fate, and I am pleased to be able to say that she was generously provided for by our Heroes!"

"WHAT?" Edwin almost screamed.

"Er…that was me", Imoen admitted. "I kept that ring we found in the mines, and I found out where the guy's wife lived, and then I felt so sorry for her and well I thought we could spare a little gold…"

The Red Wizard hung his head despondently. "Please don't be watching", he murmured in a quiet, despairing voice. "Please don't be. I'll do anything. Anything at all."

"Let's hear it for our good and noble friends", the Mayor trumpeted, "the justly famed, the pure of heart, the stalwart champions of Justice, the friends of the needy and defenders of the meek, the HEROES OF NASHKEL!"

The crowd went mad with cheering. What seemed to be a small gnome jester turned somersaults across the stage, horns blared, and drums rolled and confetti was sprinkled all over the surprised adventurers. A troupe of small girls in white dresses came rushing onto the dais thrusting flower bouquets into the arms of the newly appointed Heroes. Most accepted gracefully, though Jaheira had to twist Edwin's arm in order to make him take his. She didn't think his groan was entirely due to physical pain either.

"And so", the Mayor continued, "the time has come for our Heroes to journey forth once again! Aye, for 'tis not the nature of Heroes to sit idle when needed, and Nashkel needs Heroes indeed. Brage, our former Captain of the Guard, still terrorizes the woods, slaughtering all that approach him in his madness." Lots of disapproving murmurs from the crowd. "But now that we have our very own Heroes, they will no doubt deal with him shortly." More wild cheers. 

"What?" Jaheira heard Zaerini say in a stunned voice. "I never said anything about…"

"See?!" Edwin complained. "Didn't I tell you so? Being a hero means working for free and risking your life for people you don't even know. And it never stops. It's always 'just one more stupendously dangerous quest and then we'll let you lead a quiet life in luxury'. Heroes always die young, you know."

"Oh, stop it", Jaheira said wearily. "You are starting to sound like Xan. Just…just smile and enjoy your flowers."

An hour later Zaerini decided that she had had enough of the party. She couldn't eat any more, she would rather die than converse with yet another stuffy town official, she'd performed a few songs since the guests had asked her nicely, and she had danced with just about every young man in town. Well, almost everybody. Apparently, some people found her repugnant enough that they would rather hide than dance with her. Instead leaving her to have her feet trampled by skittish merchants and sweating stable-hands. She didn't know if she was ever going to be able to forget one particularly enthusiastic young soldier who had stood on both her feet and then had the nerve to try to pat her behind. He was lucky she'd limited herself to flesh-wounds.

The bard gritted her teeth and stalked into the manor house's garden, firmly intent on going straight home and to bed. However, once she got outside, she decided that the cool night air was just the thing to help soothe her temper, and that perhaps a brief walk around the house wouldn't be a bad idea. She hadn't gone far before she heard something very interesting. A whispering voice coming from behind some bushes. 

"So, I'll tell her that it was an accident. An innocent mishap. A misunderstanding. She might understand. (Or she might just rip my head off and kick it around the town for offending her.) She might listen if I offer a good explanation though. Assuming she will wait long enough to hear it out."

"Or she might", Zaerini said in a cold voice, "ask you how come you're the only man in Nashkel who didn't ask her for a single dance?"

There was a muffled yelp and a thud from the bushes, accompanied by the sound of violently snapped branches as somebody apparently stumbled and landed headfirst in the shrubbery. Then Edwin came crawling out from inside a large rhododendron, looking quite lost and confused. It was actually rather sweet, Rini decided. 

"Well…", the wizard said in a faltering voice, "I thought, what with what happened earlier…that is…"

"Oh, I'm not mad about that anymore", Rini reassured him. She had planned to let him stew a little, but she simply didn't have the heart. "Immy explained that it was all her fault. If you hadn't sneaked away so soon, I would have told you earlier."

"Oh", Edwin said. "That is…good."

"Yes."

"So…"

"So…"

"So, would you still like to dance?" Edwin suddenly blurted out. "I'm an excellent dancer you know. Trained for years and years."

"What, you mean dance out here?"

"Well, I'm not going back in there", Edwin said with a barely suppressed shudder. "If one more runny-nosed child asks me how to enroll in wizard school and where to buy a magic wand I'm going to turn them all into gnats."

"Can you actually do that?" Zaerini asked.

"No", Edwin admitted, shrugging his shoulders. "About that dance… You don't have to if you don't want to. I…just thought it would be the polite thing to ask. I mean, not that I would actually hate to, but I can certainly do without in case you…er…that is a very nice dress by the way. Nothing like Thayvian high fashion, but still very…er…nice."

"Somehow I figured you'd like this color", Rini told him with a warm smile. "Not that that's why I bought it, mind you. I wouldn't want your head to get even more swollen than usual. And yes. I'd love to dance." _He really does have the nicest voice,_ she thought. _When he doesn't use it to randomly insult me, that is. And he's not bad looking either. Very nice eyes, almost black, and then that cute little…_

"You would?" Edwin said, sounding surprised. He immediately rallied though. "Ah, of course you would. Seeing that I happen to be the best dancer you are ever likely to meet in these parts. You should get down on your knees and beg me to take pity on you. (These barbarians don't just have two left feet; I wouldn't be surprised if they all had webbed feet to boot.)"

"Well, I'm just going to have to compare you to the rest then, aren't I? Now that every farm-boy in Nashkel has dragged me round the floor I'm really curious to find out what the Wonderful Wizard of Thay has to offer. As a scientific experiment, you understand." She reached out to place his hands around her waist.

"Quite. Yes. Of course. Scientific." Did his hands tremble just a little bit?

The music still streamed out through the closed windows, and the grass was blissfully soft beneath her feet, the stars bright in the sky. Not that she paid much attention to the sky. After a few minutes Rini decided that for once Edwin hadn't been exaggerating, he really was good at this. Better than good. I could get used to this, she thought. After a while the music stopped but it was several minutes before either of them noticed.

"So", Edwin said, sounding slightly breathless. "Have I managed to banish the traumatic memories of all those clumsy farm-boys yet? (I should hope so, I suddenly feel strangely hot. Perhaps I'm coming down with something.)"

"Farm-boys?" Rini said with a small grin. "I don't recall any farm-boys. Yes, I believe you managed to banish those traumatic memories quite satisfactorily." She allowed her grin to widen. "My Hero."


	16. Cat And Rat, Fowl And Family

**In The Cards 16 - Cat And Rat, Fowl And Family**

_Right, here's a free bit of advice. Don't under any circumstances play around with strange magical artifacts from Netheril. I've seen them cause enough misery as it is, due to the strange and inexplicable inability of certain people to take this advice to heart._

_Excerpt from 'Ruminations Of A Master Bard'_

It was cold and rainy the next morning as the adventurers set out on their way for Beregost. When they finally got there in the late afternoon, they were all wet, cold and thoroughly miserable. Rini and Imoen were both shivering, Edwin kept complaining that his robes were twice as heavy as usual, and even Jaheira had stopped saying that 'a little rain is perfectly natural, and you simply need proper clothes'. It didn't improve Zaerini's mood much that the first person they met turned out to be that redrobed mage that she and Imoen had met on their way to the Friendly Arm Inn, the one with the pointy hat and the smug attitude.

"Well now", he said, long white beard bobbing up and down as he spoke, eyes twinkling, "our paths cross once more. I suppose proper introductions are in order, as we will no doubt meet again. My name is Elminster. I've heard nothing but tales of thy exploits in the time we have been apart. It would seem that thou art destined to have quite the impact on the Sword Coast. Quite the burden for one so young."

Elminster! Zaerini could scarcely believe that he actually stood in front of her. The man was a myth, a fable, a living legend. She was also rapidly coming to the conclusion that he was a smug git determined to meddle in her own affairs. Still, it wouldn't do to anger him, at least not too much. She didn't want to spend the rest of her days as a toad.

"I was not aware that my actions were common knowledge", she asked cautiously. 

"Perhaps not common knowledge, but everything is plain for those that know where to look. As it is, I am aware of thine efforts and accomplishments. Thou art quite adept, as Gorion predicted. All that remains is to determine motive."

_Determine motive, is it? And just what gives you the right to do that, old man? Your age? Your power? Or that ridiculous headgear?_

"My motives are my own and no one else's", Rini said, her voice cold. Softpaws leapt onto her shoulder and joined her mistress in giving the ancient wizard a disapproving glare. If Elminster was fazed by this he didn't let it show, however.

"Thou've certainly taken it upon thyself to straddle the morality fence", he said, "but I cannot truly fault the results. I shall leave the future to thy discretion, and we shall see what happens. I do have one piece of information for thee before I go, though 'tis hardly a surprise, I am sure. The bandits that thou dost seek make a habit of traveling in the northeast. With this, I shall take my leave."

Rini wasn't about to let go that easily, however. Summoning her newfound power of mimicry, she spoke up again, this time in an uncanny imitation of Elminster's own voice. "And who determines your own motives, old man?" she asked. "What were your motives when you stood back and allowed Gorion's murder to happen? When you decided that you shouldn't 'interfere'? What are your motives in following me about? I can tell you this much. I will not be your tool, and I will choose my own path, not one you prod me onto. What do you say to that?"

"I say", Elminster said with an infuriatingly enigmatic smile, "that I shall continue to observe thee with much interest. Thou art spirited, and wilt no doubt make it worth mine efforts." Then he walked off.

"Yeah?" Rini yelled after him. "Well, observe this then! And if I catch you 'observing' me through my bedroom window I'll yank your beard out, one hair at a time!" She raised her arm in a very rude gesture that she had learned in the Candlekeep barracks and that she never would have used in Gorion's presence.

"Perhaps", Jaheira said, "the next time we encounter an incredibly ancient and powerful mage, you could refrain from doing that sort of thing? I think my heart almost stopped just now."

"Sorry", Rini muttered, "but that guy really yanks my chain, you know."

"Could you please drop that voice?" Edwin asked. "It's really rather unnerving." He glared after the retreating back of Elminster and sniffed disdainfully. "Elminster this, Elminster that. Give me 2000 years and a pointy hat, and I'll kick his arse!"

"You know", Rini said, "I wouldn't mind seeing that myself. Or helping, for that matter. But right now, there's this other mage in need for some serious arse-kicking. We really shouldn't keep Tranzig waiting any longer. He might decide to dig up another idiot assassin, and that's more than I can handle right now. Besides, Feldepost's Inn is the best in town." 

Before they could get that far however a small girl came running up to them, an eager look on her face. Her blond pigtails were so wet that they were dripping, and she looked like she'd been playing in a mud puddle. "Zaerini!" she yelled in a shrill voice. "Zaerini! Someone in the Jovial Juggler gave me a gold piece to come find you!"

_Wow_ , Rini thought, _news travel fast. We only just got here, after all. Well, if this kid turns out to be another assassin, she sure didn't get paid much…_

"How do you know my name?" she asked. "And who is it that wants to find me?"

The little girl smiled brightly, proudly displaying the gap where her front teeth used to be. "Why, everyone here is talking about you. You're the Heroes who saved the Nashkel mines! My momma says that even though we don't like those folks from Amn, there's no reason anyone should have to suffer so..."

_They know about it already? You'd almost think somebody'd been in a hurry to spread the word. Well, it might get us a few perks…_

"Heroes…", Edwin moaned quietly. "And who cares about my impending suffering? (Nobody, that's who. I wonder if it's possible to change my name and run off to become a pirate.)"

"So who is it that is willing to pay to find me?", Zaerini asked, pushing her dripping red hair out of her eyes to better be able to see the child, and trying to ignore the urge to sneeze.

"Her name's Officer Vai", the girl said, "and she's with the Flaming Fist. And you needn't worry, she's real nice!"

"Let's hope so", Rini said. "Anyway, thanks for telling me, kid. If I give you another gold piece, could you go back to this 'Officer Vai' and tell her that I'll come to see her as soon as possible after I've taken care of a few other things?"

"Sure!" the girl said with a wide grin. "I'll do that."

"Thanks again. Oh, look. Seems the coin was stuck inside your ear the whole time…" Pretending to extricate a gold piece from the little girl's left ear Zaerini was pleased to see the child goggle at her with wide eyes.

"Woooow!" she whispered. "I think I wanna be a mage when I grow up! Think I can, ma'am? Huh?"

"Perhaps. Now run along back to Officer Vai." The girl waved cheerfully and ran off, splattering the adventurers with large dollops of mud as she raised straight through a large puddle.

"Sometimes I wonder", Jaheira said as she wiped mud out of her eyes, "exactly what it is about small children and dirt that always seems to attract them to each other."

"Not just small children", Imoen interrupted. "Me and Rini got into that mudfight with Abduh only two years ago…"

"Yes. My point exactly."

Feldepost's was a very nice inn, Rini thought, and most importantly it was warm and dry. She went directly for the barkeeper, hoping he'd have forgotten that the last time she was here she'd killed that Marl fellow who'd accosted her. That sort of thing certainly made an impression, but perhaps not the one she needed at this moment.

"Y-you?" the man stammered. "What do you want now?"

_Aw, nuts_. "Look", Zaerini said with a charming smile, "I just need rooms for me and my friends, that's all. Nice rooms mind you. We've been on the road for a while."

The barkeeper calmed visibly. "Ah", he said. "Th-that can be arranged. Will that be all?" He looked as if he ardently hoped so.

"Almost. I also need to find a certain person. A mage staying at this inn. I believe he goes by the name of Tranzig."

The man paled visibly. "I-I'm sorry ma'am, but I can't give out information on my other g-guests…Eeeep!"

Edwin had grabbed the barkeeper by the collar and was currently giving him a very cold and disturbing look, as if he was trying to calculate just how heavy his corpse would be. "On the contrary", he said in a low voice with death threats simmering just beneath the surface. "I think you would be amazed to learn how much information you will be giving out once I have supplied you with some proper…motivation. (Good one. Now let his imagination chew on that for a while.)"

"Up the stairs", the unfortunate man squeaked. "S-s-second to the r-right!"

"Thank you", Edwin said and let go. "See, that wasn't so difficult, was it?"

"Hm", Zaerini said as she walked up the stairs, "that was very…efficient. Not exactly the thing to improve public relations, but impressive all the same. I'll have to try it some time." She wasn't certain about it since it was so dark on the stairs, but she thought the Red Wizard blushed briefly.

"Well, of course", he said. "I am nothing if not efficient. (And I'm certainly not about to let the scruples of some barman keep me from showing this Tranzig the folly of provoking me.)"

"Speaking of which", Imoen said, "I think we'd all better pipe down. This seems to be the place. Want me to pick the lock?"

"Won't be necessary", Rini said with a predatory grin. "I have a better idea." She knocked on the door and called out, this time mimicking the voice of the melodramatic assassin who had come after her in Nashkel. "Tranzig", she said. "Open up. I've got good news."

There were a few seconds of silence, and then a suspicious voice spoke from behind the door. "Nimbul? That you?"

"If you don't open up right now it will be Death coming for you. Now let me in."

The door opened to reveal a mage in green and orange robes that made him look a little jaundiced. He had brown hair with a large bald spot that he'd vainly tried to comb over, and his scraggly beard and beady black eyes made him resemble a bedraggled rat more than anything. When he saw strangers rather than the assassin he'd been expecting a nervous look crossed his face. "Why do ya bother me?" he asked. "Can't ya see that I'm in a hurry to get outta this damn town?"

_Oh, I can see that_ , Rini thought. _As you should be._

_Go on, kitten_ , Softpaws added, sounding pleased. _You've trapped the rat nicely. Now…go on and play with it._

"So you certainly seem to be", Rini said in a voice dripping false sympathy. "Perhaps you could tell us WHY you are in such a hurry? Could it perhaps have something to do with a deal you made recently? Not trusting Nimbul to do his job, are you? Or have your superiors given you other orders?"

Tranzig was starting to sweat heavily and his nose was twitching in a nervous manner, but he wasn't ready to give in just yet. "I'm not gonna tell youse guys anything", he defiantly proclaimed, thus declaring himself to be either stupid or suicidal, possibly both. "Git outta my face."

"You will not be rid of us that easily", Jaheira growled. "We know you are up to no good. Now tell us everything you know." Most mortals would have caved in once faced with the threatening glare the druid leveled at Tranzig, but not he. Since he didn't seem to be the brave sort Rini decided that he had to be stupid.

"Ya know what I'm up to, eh?", he spat. "Well, maybe somethin' ya don't know about is my magic skills. Ya might not believe me, but if you ain't outta my face in the next 5 seconds, I'll blast ya to kingdom come!"

At this point Edwin couldn't contain himself any longer. "Oh, please", he said with a contemptuous sneer. "You? A mage? You're nothing but a common thug. If you cannot even cope with ordinary pronunciation and grammar, how do you expect to deal with the language of magic? Tell me, what words would you use to conjure a demon? 'Git youse lazy bones up 'ere and start workin'?' You'd be lucky if the demon contented itself with boiling your corpse for soup and didn't decide to use your wretched soul to wipe the dishes. (Honestly, I thought that assassin was pitiful, but his employer is even worse. We're really scraping the bottom of the barrel here. No, in fact I think we've gone through the bottom of the barrel and dug ourselves straight out of the wine cellar.)"   
Tranzig might not have been very smart, but at least he was enthusiastic. "I warned ya", he screamed, "now you pay the price!" He immediately started chanting what Rini recognized as a Lightning Bolt spell. 

_The stupid idiot! If that goes off we could all die, himself included!_ Without a single thought about it the bard pounced on the casting wizard like a cat pouncing on a rodent, knocking him down. She then straddled his prone body and put a dagger to his throat, the one she had been given by the revenant. A small drop of blood trickled forth where it bit through the skin. "So", Rini purred, "perhaps you would like to rephrase those words a little, hmm?"

"I give up!", Tranzig gasped, his eyes wide and fearful. "Please let me live. I'll tell ya anything ya wanna know."

"You know", the bard said, her eyes glittering like amber, "I actually agree. You will tell me anything I want to know. And if you do, and if you behave, then who knows? I might even let you leave."

"Okay....okay, I'll talk. I'm a messenger fer a man named Tazok. I just ferry messages between him and a fat mage named Mulahey. I meet with Tazok at either Peldvale or Larswood, east of the Friendly Arm inn. Tazok pays me good, so I keep my yap shut. Can I go now?"

"Not just yet", Zaerini said, putting just a little bit more pressure on the dagger. "Where can we find this Tazok?"

"Tazok? You can find him in the Wood of Sharp Teeth. He's the captain of two groups of bandits. Their camp's always movin', so I don't know how much luck you'll have in findin' them. Can I get outta here now?"

"Yes. Yes, you can." The dagger moved swiftly, drinking the mage's life in a heatbeat. "I said I might let you leave", Zaerini said as she got off the corpse. "I never said anything about letting you live."

"But…", Imoen protested. "Did you have to do that? He seemed so harmless…"

"No, Immy", Rini said, shaking her head. "He's the one who recently hired an assassin to come after me, remember? And just now he tried to kill me himself. If I'd let him get out of here he'd probably have gone straight off to warn his superiors, and that would put us all in danger, not to mention that he might cause all sorts of other mischief. No, a cornered rat may seem harmless, but that doesn't mean it isn't carrying the plague." She rapidly searched the mage's body, finding a wand of Magic Missiles, a ring with a protective aura about it and a letter.

_Tranzig,_

_I am perplexed as to why Mulahey has not communicated with us in some while. You are to go to the mines and find out the condition of his operation. You are also to collect any iron that may have been stolen by the kobolds. Our next raid will most likely take place at Peldvale, or Larswood, so visit either of those areas and track us back to our camp._

_TAZOK_

"At least he seems to have been telling the truth about Tazok", Jaheira said. "And it confirms Elminster's words as well."

"Yes", Edwin agreed. He was giving the bard a very strange look. "What you just did was very…practical", he said. "A rare display of intelligence, undoubtedly fleeting. I quite agree that it would have been a logical mistake to let this man live, though it surprises me that you were so capable of facing the consequences of that line of reasoning. Not all people are. (Yes, she is full of surprises, this one.)"

"Thanks", Rini said. "I think. And now I think we should get back to the Jovial Juggler and get rooms there instead, as well as meet with Officer Vai."

"The Jovial Juggler?" Imoen asked. "What's wrong with this place?"

"Oh, nothing. Let's just say that I'd prefer not to be around in the morning when the maids come to clean this room, that's all. Dead bodies tend to create a bit of a stir."

Officer Vai turned out to be a good-looking redheaded woman in full armor. She had cheerful blue eyes and a ready smile, and the bard took an instant liking to her. "Ah Zaerini", the warrior woman said, "I thought it might be you. These southern parts are set quite afire with talk of your work in Nashkel... I am Officer Vai of the Flaming Fist and, to be honest, I could use your help."

"Pleased to meet you", Rini said. "What exactly would you have me help you with? And how come everybody seems to have heard the news already? Not that I mind, really."

"My contingent and I are cut off from Baldur's Gate", Officer Vai said, looking rather grim. "We haven't received new orders for close to a week and, to be honest, I don't like the feel of this at all. The bandit raids have been getting steadily worse this past while. I used to think that they were just your usual brigands out to make a quick buck in troubled times but not anymore. They're working for someone... One way or another, I've got to get my troops back to the Gate. I'll pay 50 gold pieces for every bandit scalp you can bring me -- and spread the news. I want this whole region cleared before winter comes." She smiled. "As for knowing of you, you'll find that word travels quickly in these parts. No doubt some traveler or other passed the news on. And such an interesting tale too! It seems that one of the local singers, a fellow named Garrick, is already composing a ballad in your honor."

_Oh dear_ , Rini thought. _I hope he at least manages to get my name right_. "It so happens I have an interest in those bandits myself", she said. "Though I don't think I will be going after them just yet. I think I should try to equip myself better first, as well as hone my skills a little more. But when I do take them on, I don't see why I shouldn't do as you ask."

"Excellent!" Officer Vai exclaimed. "It will be a pleasure doing business with you I'm sure."

"Right", Rini said and shook her hand. "After all, us redheads ought to stick together."

Having spent the night at the Jovial Juggler the party set out again the next morning, heading towards the famous estate of High Hedge, just west of Beregost. They did veer a little too much south, however, and so found themselves in a rocky, desolate wilderness, crawling with ghouls and zombies. "This can't be right", Rini said. "I knew we should have taken a left turn back there…" It was at precisely that moment that she saw the madman coming towards them. At least she assumed he was a madman, judging by the wild and staring look in his eyes and the way he kept constantly clawing at his own face.

"No, stay back", he called, "lest this madness be catching!"

"Madness?" Jaheira asked. "What madness do you speak of?"

"I have been a rural merchant all my life and am thereby no stranger to poultry of any shade or color... But there be a fiendish hen to the east that, when I picked her up, she spoke to me in a voice most human. Either I am in the chill grips of the deepest fever or that chicken be possessed by a spirit from the very depths of the ninth and final hell!" The man shuddered violently and walked off. The adventurers looked at each other. 

"Fiendish hen", Edwin said. "That's a new one. (The only 'fiendish hen' I've ever met was the one that gave me a nasty case of indigestion three months back.) And any demon possessing a chicken would have to be very desperate indeed."

"It could be a druid, couldn't it?" Imoen suggested. "I've heard of druids changing into all sorts of animals."

"Not chickens", Jaheira said in a very decisive voice. "Turning into a flightless bird that many species like to eat is not a worthwhile effort, particularly when in the middle of the forest."

"Let's check it out", Rini said. "I can't wait to see what a demonic chicken looks like myself." She didn't have to wait very long, as it turned out. They had only walked for about a quarter of an hour when they heard rustling and squawking sounds coming from the bushes. What looked like an ordinary white chicken emerged and ran straight for them, clucking violently. "CLUUUUUUCK!!! Bwaaaaaa!! Buc-becaw! HELLLLP-becaw!" Zaerini was startled to recognize words amidst the animal noises, but she didn't have time to investigate further before the reason for the creature's distress became very much apparent. A large and hungry-looking wolf came bounding out of the same bushes, apparently bent on a poultry dinner. The chicken screamed with a very human-sounding voice and managed to flap onto Khalid's shoulder where it immediately lost control of its bodily functions. "Saveee * cluck * me!" it screamed again. 

Jaheira was the first to act, casting a spell that made the wolf suddenly sit down on its haunches and watch her with adoring eyes, tail wagging. "That is a good boy", the druid said and handed the wolf some dried meat out of her pack. "That is a very good boy." The wolf panted happily and licked her hand. "You run along now. There must be some other game around here apart from this scrawny chicken." 

"Scrawny?!" the chicken protested and flapped its wings. "What is * cluck * that supposed to mean?" It quickly fell silent as Jaheira gave it a stern look 

"You be quiet", the druid said in a firm voice. Then she turned to the wolf again. "Off you go now", she said. And the wolf went, still wagging its tail as it disappeared into the woods once more. 

"Th...Thank ye *cluck*", the chicken said. "You have saved *cluck* me."

Zaerini couldn't help herself. There was something very comical about that chicken sitting on Khalid's shoulder, addressing her in a voice as pompous as that of old Ulraunt. "I fear I have taken one too many blows to the head", she said. "Next I'll be hearing hamsters speak." Imoen giggled at this. The chicken didn't seem to find the comment very amusing, however. 

"Thank you", it said in an icy voice. "Yes *cluck*, that was just what I needed in my *cluck* hour of need. You laugh it up while I *cluck* learn to cope with passing eggs."

"Think you could manage to pass one or two right now?", Edwin asked. "It has been a while since I had eggs. Or pancakes. (I could kill for some Thayvian blueberry pancakes right about now.)"

"Oh, thanks a lot!", the chicken said. "Not only do I * cluck * change species, I also * cluck * swap genders, and all you can do is joke about it? And a fellow wizard too! Serve you * cluck * right if anything like this ever happens to * cluck * you!"

Rini decided things had gone far enough. "Look, we're sorry if we offended you", she said. "You're obviously no ordinary chicken. Who are you, and just what's happened to you?"

"Thank the *cluck* Mother of all Magic", the chicken said in a relieved voice, "mayhaps now I might end this *cluck* nightmare. I am Melicamp of Beregost, a *cluck* mage adept in the mystical arts. A...misread...incantation seems to be *cluck* the source of my troubling form. 'Tis been over a month *cluck*, and I simply cannot return to my normal *cluck* form!"

Edwin snickered derisively. "Adept?" he asked. "You hardly seem very adept to me. Such a sorry excuse for a mage deserves to wind up as livestock, for obviously you are quite unfit to be a wizard. (And probably unfit for just about everything else as well, including chicken soup.)"

"You * cluck * BASTARD!" Melicamp screamed and flew at the Red Wizard, trying to peck out his eyes. He might even have succeeded if Rini hadn't managed to catch him by the legs. Hanging upside-down seemed to subdue him a little.

"Sorry again", Zaerini said. "Our resident wizard has a bit of a…er…fowl temper. Look, I know a thing or two about magic myself. Isn't it possible to dispel this curse?"

"I would", Melicamp said and flapped his wings, "but dispel is beyond my...er...rather, I exhausted my *cluck* memorized spells earlier, and now I cannot...access my spellbook. Have you or a member of your party the *cluck* ability to cast such a spell?"

"I do", Jaheira said. "Put him down, child, and I will see what I can do." Zaerini did so, and Jaheira cast her spell, one that made the enchanted wizard glow briefly with a soft white light. When it subsided he was still unchanged, though.

"It didn't *cluck* work!" Melicamp complained. "Bother and Blast, your skill is no better than mi...um...rather, I fear that *cluck* you have not the ability to release...my enchantment. My only *cluck* recourse now is to find my...master. Would you take me to the *cluck* tower near Beregost? 'Tis there we will find Thalantyr. He might hel...er...should be able to deal with *cluck* this."

"We were going there anyway", Rini said. "Sure, we can take you with us. But you make me wonder…considering that you claim to be his apprentice you seem strangely uncertain of his willingness to help you."

Melicamp looked as if he were about to pass an egg right then and there, and when he finally replied his voice sounded very strained. "Oh, 'tis nothing *cluck*...REALLY! Um, often the relationship between *cluck* apprentice and master is...strained."

"On that, at least, I will agree", Edwin muttered. 

"He will help. I am...certain."

"Fine", Rini said. "We'll help you. But I'd better warn you right now. If it turns out you're lying and this mage decides to attack us all because of it, then you will be lucky if there's enough of you left to stuff a pillow."

Guided by Melicamp the adventurers soon found their way to High Hedge, a small stone fortress situated in a pleasant woodland area, where flowers bloomed on the ground, birds twittered in the trees, and a large horde of skeletons were determined to make any stranger join their ranks. It was a while before they could all be taken down, and afterwards both Imoen and Khalid were in need of Jaheira's healing spells, having been hit by the undead warriors' throwing daggers.

"Master * cluck * Thalantyr isn't very fond of visitors", Melicamp explained as the party walked up the steps to the fortress, a forbidding octagonal building of grey stone, with small and narrow windows and a tower at every corner. "He * cluck * usually prefers to summon mephits as guardians of the entrance, but I * cluck * suppose he must have run out of sulfur…"

"Oh really", Zaerini said. "And you don't think it might have been a good idea to mention this before we were almost perforated?"

"Sorry * cluck *." They were inside the fortress now, having found the door open and allowing easy access. Inside a dark and empty hallway led left and right, and there was a shorter one straight ahead where Zaerini could see a strange white light shining through. "Oh and mind the * cluck * golems." As if on cue a horrible roaring sound came from the left, followed by another from the right. Two large creatures came lumbering into view, one from each direction. They were generally humanoid in shape, and a disturbing raw pink as if they had been shaped out of fresh meat. "Hurry!" Melicamp squawked. "Straight ahead, they won't * cluck * follow into the main work area…" 

Fortunately, this turned out to be accurate. Zaerini and her friends burst into a large octagonal room, quite out of breath, and were relieved to see that the golems had remained behind. The room they found themselves in was dominated by a huge white crystal in the middle of the floor. Around it there was a circular mosaic, representing the four elements, and it constantly revolved around its own axis, sending out flashes of white light as well as a mysterious humming sound. 

"Neat", Imoen said. "I wonder what that thing is supposed to do?"

"Probably it is some sort of warding spell", Edwin said. "Or a focus of magical energies."

"Actually", a strange voice said, "it is called 'Exhibit 47 - The Meaning Of Life'. I found it in an old Netherese dungeon many years ago. Still haven't figured out if it actually does anything, but it is pretty, wouldn't you say?" The speaker turned out to be an old man, dressed in dark green mage robes and leaning on an impressive looking staff. "I don't have much patience for strangers on my property", he continued. "Do us both a favor and move along....unless of course you have magic for sale. From the looks of you, you don't look as if you could afford the items I have for sale."

"You might be surprised", Rini said. "And I am interested in seeing your wares, but I have another errand as well. You see, I happened to rescue this...um...talking chicken..."

The mage frowned. "Chickens do not talk, so quite obviously it is a polymorphed being of some kind. Spells such as that wear off in time or can be dispelled. 'Tis a simple matter and one not worth the waste of my day. Keep moving."

"Hold on just a minute", Zaerini said. She was starting to get annoyed. "Of course, I know that chickens don't talk. But this is a rather special chicken. One who claims to be your apprentice. Starting to sound familiar?"

"Apprentice?! I have had no apprentices! I teach no one about what I...wait...Melicamp? MELICAMP, is that you?!!"

Melicamp jumped out of Imoen's arms and onto the floor, clucking ruefully. "Yes, Master Thalantyr, it is *cluck* I."

At this Thalantyr looked positively irate. "I am no "master" to you, and you are no "apprentice!" What gall you have to expect help from me!"

"He is not your apprentice?" Jaheira asked. "And yet you seem to know him."

Thalantyr's eyes flashed beneath his bushy brows. "A student wishes to LEARN, while this fool wishes only to have knowledge", he thundered. "I will tutor no one who does not understand the ramifications of what I have to teach! Not getting the quick gratification he wished, he instead chose to steal from me!"

"You speak of so much, but show so little!", Melicamp pleaded. " I only wished to *cluck* learn a fraction of the power you possess!"

"It has taken me some 50-odd years of life to gain the power I wield, and the will not to use it. You are but a baby in comparison. Frankly, I'm surprised you changed into such an OLD chicken! How DID you manage that, by the by? You were muddling the simplest cantrip when last I observed you."

"Oh no", Zaerini could hear Edwin mutter behind her. "For some reason this is all starting to feel horribly familiar…"

"I have progressed much since then", Melicamp said, "...and I *cluck* "borrowed" a few items to speed the process."

_Probably not a good thing to admit_ , Rini thought. _He'll be lucky if he gets away with just a scolding_.

"As I thought", Thalantyr snorted. "Well, it's obvious you can steal my tools, but not my understanding of them. Hold still while I dispel this foolish facade. Can't very well get my property back while it's polymorphed into y...wait a moment. I did not possess any items that allow the casting of that enchantment. Wait...oh dear...Melicamp, listen very carefully. What did you take?"

"Nothing too valuable, I swear! Just some *cluck* components, a few scrolls, a beat-up pair of bracers, a blank spellbook, some parchment..."

"A pair of...oh no. You little FOOL! The bracers in my locked and trapped safe?! I certainly hope you can develop a taste for chicken feed, because you are going to be stuck the way you are for a very long time!"

"Yes", Edwin whispered, "horribly, horribly familiar…I'd start groveling now if I were him." 

Melicamp looked as desperate as a chicken possibly could manage to. "I know I stole from you, but you can't leave me like this! Please Master Thalantyr, please... *cluck*"

Thalantyr simply shook his head. "You foolish, foolish boy", he said. "It's not a matter of whether I wish to help or not, simply that I do not have the power to undo what you have done. The magic that so many revere today was not always the same as it is now. Any adventurer worth his salt should know this and know that not every bauble they wring from a dungeon will be helpful. The bracers in question were a vain little reminder of...well...it doesn't really matter does it? Suffice to say that I have no idea what their intended function was, and I was in no position to ask their former owner. Years have passed since my...release, and the spoils of that Netheril ruin remain as enigmatic as ever. They resist even the strongest divination and attempts to dispel result only in explosive consequences. Some things should just stay buried."

Melicamp hung his head in utter despair and Zaerini couldn't help feeling sorry for him. "Isn't there anything that can be done?" she asked. "I'd be willing to help."

Thalantyr then proceeded to explain that there was a slim chance of adapting a reincarnation spell to dispel the enchantment. It would be extremely dangerous however, and it would require the skull of an undead creature.

"No problem", Rini said. She returned a few minutes later with not one, but two skulls from the skeletons outside.

"What's the second one for?" Imoen asked.

"I thought it might come in handy as a stage prop one day. Like in Gimlet, Dwarf Of Granithome, Act 2, scene 4. You know, where Gimlet contemplates the skull of his dead father and swears a blood oath on it to slaughter all their enemies?" She then handed one of the skulls to Thalantyr who immediately proceeded to cast his spell. There was a whooshing sound, a flash of light, and then a young man in mage robes replaced the chicken, a look of immense relief on his pimply face.

"And that, as they say, is that", Thalantyr said and wiped his face.

Melicamp was ecstatic. "I have arms!! Arms and hands and feet and and...OH thank you master Thalantyr, thank you!" He flung himself at the older mage and hugged him tightly, causing the elderly wizard to look very embarrassed. _Huh_ , Rini thought. _And no thanks for the ones who carried him all the way here. Figures._

"Yes, yes boy, now be quiet a moment", Thalantyr said, pushing the enthusiastic young man away. "Blast it. The bracers are no longer on him. It is as I feared. Likely they either spent what magic they had in a single charge, or it is their wont to be whisked away after inflicting the damage they do. I had hoped to seal them away, but now it's certain they will fall into the hands of some other unfortunate fool. Tell me Melicamp, do you quite feel yourself again?"

"I...I think so."

"Good, though it was the greatest of luck you did not retain a wing for a limb. You always were a bit cockeyed, but I suppose that doesn't count. I suggest you remain here, however, so that I might keep an eye on you. If you insist on playing with the forces of magic, at least I should see that you understand them. Perhaps you will be a touch more cautious, now that you have experienced what can go wrong."

"Yes, Master Thalantyr", Melicamp said, sounding very humble. He was leaning on 'The Meaning Of Life', trying to support himself. Obviously, he was still a little unsteady.

"Ha!", Edwin said. "He got off lightly. I don't even want to think about the comments I would have had to suffer had I been stupid enough to turn myself into poultry."

"So, Melicamp", Zaerini said, "how do you feel?"

"Much better thanks", the young mage said. "Except…for a very strange sensation…in my…stomach…" A panicked look crossed his face. "Excuse me, I think I have to..:" He dashed out of the room, his robes flapping around his legs. Seconds later there was a loud SQUAWK from the hallway, followed by a deep silence. 

"Should we go after him?" Imoen said, a worried look on her face.

At that moment however, Melicamp returned. His manner of walking was very strange, stiff and bowlegged, and there was a glassy look in his eyes. He had his hands hidden behind his back.

"Melicamp?" Thalantyr said, sounding genuinely worried. 

The apprentice then held out one of his hands and displayed the small white object that rested in his palm. When he spoke, his voice was strangely brittle and monotonous. "It seems…there were some…unfortunate…sideeffects to the curse…Master Thalantyr. I've just become…a mother. Would you like to tutor my…egg…as well, once it comes of age?"

And the wise old mage just stared at him, for once quite unable to think of a single thing to say.

The mood was a little subdued after that. Thalantyr carried more than one useful scroll, and Zaerini bought one of each for herself and Edwin, exempting only the ones they already had. The Red Wizard steadfastly avoided looking at Melicamp who was by now sitting in a corner, singing lullabies to his egg and trying to decide what to name it. It was a relief once the purchases were paid for and they were finally able to exit High Hedge. 

"I am never", Edwin said in a fervent voice, "never ever going to be able to erase that from my mind. (And if I never have to eat eggs again, I will be all the happier.)"

"Me neither", Rini said with a shudder. "Beyond a certain point that really ceased to be amusing. And as for ancient Netherese artifacts, I wouldn't touch them with a ten-foot pole."

"Well, perhaps… (Though I still feel a properly schooled mind would have been able to investigate those bracers…)"

"No!" The bard gave the Red Wizard a very flinty look. "No trying on of strange bracers if we happen to find any. I don't want you turned into a chicken, OK? Promise."

"Oh, all right", Edwin sighed. "For one thing, none of my clothes would fit. (And I can do without eating worms as well.)"

"Say guys", Imoen said in a thoughtful voice, "what with 'The Meaning Of Life' and everything I just thought about something. You two know about magic, maybe you can figure this out. Which do you reckon came first, the chicken or the egg?"

There was a brief moment of silence.

"What?" Imoen said at the identical look of reproach the two spellcasters gave her. "I was just curious…"

Having left High Hedge behind the adventurers once again turned south. Rini had decided that they might as well do a little traveling along the coast and see if they could find Brage, the mad captain of the Nashkel Guards. Even if she hadn't actually volunteered for the job it would probably be a good idea to retain a favorable impression with the citizens of Nashkel. The landscape turned cold and rocky as they moved further south, past the spot where they had met the unfortunate Melicamp. Zaerini really wanted to forget about that meeting for the time being. She needed something to distract her, and she had just the thing in mind.

"So, Eddie", she said. "How about enlightening me a little on the subject of Thay? You said you'd do it, and now seems like a good time."

_Why don't you just ask him if he wants to help clean your fur?_ Softpaws asked. _That's what I would do._

_Softy, don't be ridiculous. I'm making conversation, not…not inviting him to join me in an orgy or something!_

Edwin looked pleased at the request. "Certainly", he said. "Thay is, of course, not merely a military and magical power but a major cultural center as well. For example, Thayvian Opera is justly famed…"

An hour later Zaerini was forced to make an interruption of the Red Wizard's never-ending stream of words. "Yes, it all seems very nice", she said. "Lovely climate, I'm sure. Food sounds delicious. Interesting history, plenty of tourist attractions. I'd really like to see that Opera House you told me about, the one with all the gargoyles. But isn't there something you're forgetting?"

"Pardon?" Edwin asked. "Like what?"

"Like yourself. You still haven't told me a single thing about yourself, you know. Come on, spill it. I can't believe you would be shy about your own background, not when you know about mine. After all, I'm the child of the God of Murder. How much worse can it get?"

Edwin shook his head. "There really isn't that much to tell", he said in a guarded voice. "The Odesseirons are nobility, and a powerful Family."

"And your parents? Are they Red Wizards too? Have you got any siblings?"

"Yes, they are. And no, I haven't." Edwin looked suddenly uncomfortable. "But I really don't care to discuss my family at this moment. Now, back to the subject of Thayvian government…"

"Eddie! You're stalling! Now tell me more before I…" Zaerini interrupted herself. A small child was staggering towards her out of the bushes.

It was a little boy, and by the looks of him he'd been alone in this wilderness for quite some time. His clothes were torn, his cheeks sunken with hunger, the blonde hair matted and dirty. But it was the eyes that were the most horrible thing, blue eyes reflecting the light like shattered mirrors, wild and empty. When he saw the adventurers he smiled, a smile all the more frightening for its sweetness that almost made him seem sane.

"Sssh!", he said, putting a finger across his mouth. "I'm spyin' on Bassillus an' his spooks. They're funny."

Jaheira knelt in front of the child, a look of intense compassion on her face. "Child, what are you doing out here all alone?" she asked. "Where do you come from? Beregost?"

The boy nodded, and then he smiled again. "I ain't got no home to go to there, not since Mom an' Johnny disappeared. I been looking for them but all I can ever find is these spooks. One of them's wearing Johnny's knickers, though, but I don't want to think of where it got 'em... Be careful you don't scare Bassilus, okay?"

Rini felt a cold shiver run down her back. She'd heard of Bassilus, the town crier back in Beregost had been full of tales about the insane cleric who murdered all he came across, turning them into soldiers in his undead army. Apparently, this poor child's family had all fallen victim to him. No wonder the boy had gone insane.

"That is so horrible!" Imoen said. "Rini, we have to do something."

Zaerini thought about this. "Yes", she said, "I agree." She turned to the child and smiled at him until she was able to get his attention. "What's your name?" she asked.

"Footy…"

"Well Footy, me and my friends are going to make sure Bassilus doesn't hurt anybody else, OK? And then we'll take you to the temple outside Beregost. I think they might be able to make you feel a little better."

"Oh. All right, miss."

"Good. You just show us the way to Bassilus, and we'll handle the rest. You won't have to go all the way either."

"What are you doing?" Jaheira hissed into the bard's ear. "We cannot take a small child into battle!"

"I'm not going to. And I'm not leaving him alone here either. But if we go back to the temple now, we lose time, and some other children may well lose their mothers and brothers." Zaerini shook her head. "I don't know if it's right or not. I think sometimes there is no right choice."

Footy led the way, cheerfully babbling about all the 'funny spooks' that Bassilus was 'playing' with. Rini had to bite the inside of her cheek rather hard to keep from crying as she saw him. He was just a child. He hadn't deserved to have anything like this happen to him. It wasn't fair.

"But then again", Edwin said, "life isn't fair, now is it?"

"What?" Zaerini said wiping surreptitiously at her eyes. "Was I talking out loud?"

The Red Wizard shook his head. "You didn't have to; I could guess what you were thinking."

"Look, if you're going to make some comment about that poor kid being weak and thus deserving of his suffering…"

"No, you miss my point. I never said that." His gaze turned introspective for a moment. "Bad things frequently happen to people who don't deserve them." He paused. "Perhaps, if this child survives, what he has suffered will make him stronger. Or perhaps not. I would say having managed to survive here on his own is a promising sign. (Yes, very promising.) But either way, fairness has nothing to do with it."

"You may be right. That doesn't mean I have to like it."

"No. You just have to live with it, same as everybody else."

It was at precisely that point that the undead attacked. A grey and swirling mass of cold and rotting flesh, of dead white eyes and blackened gums, of stench and decay and crawling maggots. Zombies and ghouls, a large horde of them that poured forth from behind the large rocks. The fight was a furious one. Rini hadn't the time to ready her bow, but Varscona was in her hands, a cold presence to counteract the swirling heat inside her mind as her body prepared for battle. She was by no means a trained warrior, but she was agile and graceful, and the red haze was upon her. All she could think of was protecting the child who was trusting in her. Varscona rose and fall, hacking at flesh long dead. And then it was over. Zaerini gasped for breath, relieved to see Footy safe behind her, Jaheira at his side. Khalid was pulling his sword out of the body of a still twitching ghoul. Imoen was counting her remaining arrows. And Edwin…was…where?

"Where's Edwin?" Zaerini asked, a sliver of cold dread suddenly twisting her guts. Her friends gave her surprised looks. 

"He was right here", Imoen said. "Wasn't he?"

"He's with Bassilus now", Footy explained solemnly. "When Bassilus loses friends he always wants to make new ones. So, the spooks will have taken him to see Bassilus, and Bassilus will make him a spook too. I know. I've seen him do it. I saw him do it to Mom. He said it wouldn't hurt and she'd be all happy and friendly, but it must have hurt, 'cos I heard her scream." Tears welled into his eyes, and they suddenly looked more lucid than before. "I wanted to go to help her, but I was scared!" he cried. "I was scared and ran away, and now I can't find her anymore. It was all my fault!" 

"It's not your fault", Rini said, surprised at how calm she managed to sound even though she just wanted to howl with rage and frustration. "And if your Mom were here, she'd say the same thing. I promise." She turned to her friends, and spoke again, her voice still calm and deadly. "Immy, Khalid, I want you two to stay with Footy and make sure he's safe. Jaheira, come with me. We're going after Bassilus."

But Footy shook his head. "I want to come", he said. "Please, Miss. You're going to kill Bassilus, aren't ya? I want to see that."

Zaerini hesitated. "Yes", she said. "Come then. But not all the way. You will stay hidden once we get close enough. And if we don't come back for you, then you must go back to Beregost. Promise me that."

"Yes, Miss."

Meanwhile Edwin was having a very bad time indeed. The last thing he could remember was being hit on the head as he reached for his spell components, and then darkness. Now he was lying on some kind of cold stone slab, possibly an altar, and he was bound hand and foot as well as blindfolded. Not a promising sign. Even worse, there was chanting going on around him. A very bad sign. _If right now somebody says something like 'prepare the Holy Sacrifice', then I shall know I'm in bad trouble_ , he thought. 

"The Chosen One will now be anointed with Holy Oil", said a pleasant voice right into Edwin's right ear.

_Well, that doesn't sound too bad._

"So rare to find a Virgin Sacrifice these days."

_Now wait just a minute!_

"Brother Thurm, please prepare the ritual knife and saw, the heart excavation spoon and the brain jar." 

"Look, whoever you are", Edwin tried, "you really don't want to do this. I'm not alone, you know. If you kill me, you'll regret it. (Not as much as I will regret it, since I'll be dead, but still enough to make you want to make an appointment with whatever demented god you worship about him reserving a place for you in the afterlife.)" Somebody yanked the front of his robes open and started rubbing oil into his chest. "Are you even listening to me? Hello? Calling Mr Brain?" 

The remaining adventurers were directed by Footy towards a clearing in the forest. Even from a distance the sound of deep-voiced chanting could be heard. Having made sure that the boy was safely hidden in the bushes Zaerini carefully crept closer to the sound, her heart beating like a frantic bird captured within her chest. The sight that met her when she slowly pulled some branches aside to see better was almost enough to make it stop entirely though. 

The clearing was dominated by a large and perfect circle of standing stones, huge blocks of granite. Some of them laid on top of two others, forming a crude portal-like shape. Inside the circle the ground was dead, lifeless and gray like ashes, except for lines of grass radiating from the center to each standing stone, like spokes in a wheel. This grass was as gray as the ground though, slimy and glowing with the faint light of a rotting corpse. It moved faintly like grasping fingers, though the wind had stilled, and the air was deathly calm and filled with the stench of rot and decay.

In the middle of the circle was an altar, another crude slab of stone. Edwin was lying on his back on top of the altar, bound to it and blindfolded. Still very much alive though, and clearly not happy about his current circumstances. A large and armored man with carrot-red hair stood over the bound wizard, chatting merrily with him while at the same time rubbing what seemed to be some sort of perfumed oil onto his chest. _Pretty nice chest too_ , Rini thought, feeling rather ashamed of herself for noticing such a thing at such a time. _Well, it is. Can I help it if I'm observant?_

All around there were skeletons, ghouls and zombies. Some were just standing around; some were chanting what might have been supposed to be a prayer. Since many of them lacked tongues, teeth, and portions of their jaws, it really was rather difficult to make out the words though. 

"You'll soon see", said the strange man whom Zaerini could only suppose must be Bassilus. "You'll like it. They all do, in the end. They are all my friends, you know. You will be too."

"I'd rather not be friends with somebody who smells like the winner of the 'Homegrown Mildew' competition", Edwin said, "thanks all the same. And as for being oiled, I much prefer that being done by an attractive female for recreational purposes rather than by some mouth-foaming, eye-rolling fanatic for religious purposes. (Particularly one with breath that smells as if something crawled into his mouth and died four years ago.)"

"The oil", Bassilus said, "is a necessary addition. It's been so long since I performed a nice Virgin Sacrifice, I want to do this right. And then you'll be part of the family."

Zaerini nearly choked and she could hear Jaheira suppress what could have been either a cough or a laugh. Edwin was very much not amused. "I am not a virgin!" he raged. "I'm a Red Wizard of Thay, an artist of erotica, a natural born seducer! Will you get that through your thick and hollow skull…you…you oil-obsessive oaf! What do you want me to do, write down an essay on my past experiences? And I don't want to be part of your family, I'd rather ravish an Otyugh."

Bassilus shook his finger admonishingly. "Nice girls shouldn't speak like that", he said. "What would your father say, my dear?"

Edwin's face was purple by now. "I'm not a girl!" he protested violently. "Are you blind as well as insane?"

"Of course, you are. You're wearing a dress, aren't you?"

"It's not a dress! It's a robe! A ROBE! Like wizards wear. Look, I've even got a beard, see? Would a girl have that? (Not that I have high hopes of him succumbing to logic. Might as well try to describe colors to a blind man or preach sense to a paladin.)"

"I don't know", Bassilus said in a hesitant voice. "Some of the girls back at Zhentil Keep were pretty hairy…or you could be a very tall dwarf…but you make me feel confused. I think I'll have to ask brother Thurm to help me." He turned to one of the zombies, a particularly nasty one with only half a face. "Heh Hurh Heh! Oh, brother Thurm, why not grace our ears with a ripping tale of the old days! Always a delight!"

"Uuuuuuuuuhhhh.................." the zombie moaned.

"O don't hesitate on my account! Some of the others may not have heard them." Bassilus gave the zombie a sly look. "Know any about bearded ladies, eh? You old rascal, you!"

"hhhhhhhhhhhh............................."

Bassilus sighed and looked a little disappointed. "Hold your peace then, though I remember a time back at Zhentil Keep when you would sooner die than be quiet. You...would sooner...um... I'll wait 'til you feel like telling them yourself, I don't remember the old days so well."

_So, another insane Zhentarim_ , Zaerini thought. _I wonder if they're recruited that way or if it's a job hazard?_

"No", Bassilus said, "I think I'll just kill you anyway, virgin or not." He raised a wicked-looking curved knife."

"Hey!" Zaerini yelled and leapt out of the bushes, oblivious to the crowd of undead waiting for her. "Stop it!" 

_Way to go kitten_ , Softpaws said. _I'm sure that will make him sit up and pay attention_

Surprisingly enough, it actually did. Bassilus lowered the knife in surprise, a scared and confused look in his eyes. "No!" he cried. "It can't be! Is that you Mother? It cannot be otherwise; you haven't changed a bit in all these years!"

_Wow_ , Rini thought. _I guess his mother must have been a redhead too. I hope she's not one of this crowd. Still, better play along._ "Uhh...yes, son, it certainly has been a long time. How are you doing...my boy? Made any nice sacrifices lately? Your career going well, I take it? And aren't you going to produce some grandchildren for me soon? I won't live forever, you know." The bard kept rambling on, hoping to distract the madman long enough. Edwin had gone very still at the sound of her voice, as if he almost didn't dare believe his ears.

_Softy, try to get those ropes off_. The black cat slunk across the ground, a small shadow unseen by the sluggish undead as well as by Bassilus himself.

"About as well as can be expected I guess", Bassilus said, looking proud. "It has been difficult, but I've got most of the family back together. Some did not seem to recognize me at first, but I helped them recall. But now that you're here everything will be well. Come, I will make you a nice dinner."

Zaerini didn't really want to think about what that 'nice dinner' would probably be. Red Wizard lightly grilled, most likely. She tried to keep her voice neutral and avoid looking at the disgusting zombies. "No matter. I've not seen you since...um... Zhentil Keep. Thank the gods we all got out safely."

Bassilus nodded. "Yes, though it was frightening for a time because I thought I was the only one of us that survived. I thought I was the only one who...the only one. You lie. YOU LIE! You cannot be my mother because she died when I left the...when I..."

Zaerini knew then what the madness was that gnawed this man's mind. His betrayal of his family must have driven him insane, and so he was trying to recreate them. It was sad, in a way. But not as sad as Footy searching for his lost mother and brother. "How many?" she cried out, her voice strong and clear. "How many more must die for you to understand? Don't you see? You will never bring them back. You betrayed them, and they are gone. All you can do is rob others of their families as well!" The memory of Gorion came back to her unbidden. Her father, taken from her by her brother. For a second, she almost thought herself speaking to Sarevok. _What was your family like, brother? Why did you feel the need to rob me of mine?_

For a moment she almost thought Bassilus would listen to her. He stood absolutely still, transfixed by her words. Then he shook his head, and the madness returned, stronger than ever. "No! They lived, all of them! I saved them and they live! I...I ran. Dead...all dead. It isn't true! It cannot be...You lie! You will die for slighting my memory!" But the mad priest was by now frightened and furious enough that he momentarily lost the control he had over his zombies. As one the undead horde turned their broken eyes towards him, hissing his name with swollen and rotten tongues, stretching towards him with bony fingers.

"Bassss…."

"Baaaaass…"

"….uuuussss…."

"Basssilllluuussss…."

"No!" Bassilus protested, his face pale with fear and understanding. "No! NO! You…you can't! You mustn't! You…you are my family! My faaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrghhhhh!" And that was the last word the mad cleric Bassilus ever spoke. The undead fell upon him then, ripping and tearing, biting and gnawing. It was over in second, a red and pulpy mass on the ground all that remained. You couldn't even tell that it had once been human, not unless you examined it much more closely than Rini intended to. The zombies hissed with relief, and then they fell apart, finally allowed relief from their wretched existence. Zaerini felt happy for their sake, but they weren't really at the front of her mind right now.

"Are you feeling all right?" the bard asked as she hurried over to Edwin. He looks all right. More than all right, actually.

"Yes", Edwin said as he got off the altar and hurriedly pulled his robes closed again. "I've only just been kidnapped, bound, stripped, oiled and almost gutted by an insane priest and his family of undead who wanted to turn me into a zombie. Such fun. Why wouldn't I feel all right? (I think I may try bleeding to death next, just to amuse myself. Or possibly being nibbled to death by monkeys.)"

"I'm happy to see you're OK", Rini said and gave him a light peck on the cheek. "I was really worried there for a while." She grinned. "Though it may be a while before I forgive you for making me pretend to be that lunatic's mother. He must have been twice my age."

Edwin kept staring at her, his hand pressed to his cheek, his eyes slightly unfocused. 

"Well", Jaheira said, "it seems there is a way of shutting him up after all." She thought for a few seconds. "Not that I am ever likely to try it myself."


	17. Shadowdance And Sirensong

**In The Cards 17 – Shadowdance And Sirensong**

_It is surprising how much you can get away with if you present your suggestions with the right attitude. If you sound confident and arrogant enough many people won't even consider questioning your presence or what you choose to tell them. They will simply assume you have a right to be wherever you are, and so allow you easy access to your target. Of course, the cover has to be a good one, and a backup plan is always necessary._

_Excerpt from 'Interview With An Assassin'_

Bregen Mandrel swore to himself for about the thousandth time. Being a bandit had seemed like a great thing. Money, power, booze, being able to more or less thumb his nose at the Fist. No way would they ever be able to get at him now about that business with the girl. And he sure liked raiding caravans. Not just because of the money either. It was something about the look in people's eyes when they met his and knew that they were going to die. Sometimes, after a particularly good death, he would dream about the raid at night and wake covered in sweat, a blissful smile on his lips. Particularly when women had been involved. Those dreams were very interesting.

But right now, there were certainly no women around. Neither were there any caravans, any companions or anything else other than trees. Bregen cursed again. How could he have been so stupid? They'd been out on patrol, him and his fellow Black Talons, same as always. Just walking around Peldvale, scouting to make sure no unwanted visitors found their way back to camp. They'd smelt smoke up ahead, smoke that might mean a campfire, and spread out to circle around and surround whoever was there. Bregen had meant to go straight away. It was just that first he'd had to 'go', so to speak. Once he was done, he hurried to obey, but now he couldn't find the campfire. He couldn't find his mates either. He'd heard somebody calling for him ahead, but he couldn't seem to find them. Just trees, trees and more trees, and now whoever had been up ahead had gone silent. It was rapidly getting darker too, and the deep shadows between the trees almost seemed to be alive. Now and then there were noises. Little rustling noises of something passing in the darkness. Bregen shuddered. He was a city boy, and no mistake about it. This was just too…creepy. Inky black shadows lurking closer by the minute, pressing in on him, hiding who knew what dangerous beasts? Bears, possibly. Wolves, almost certainly. The patrol had found wolf tracks only the day before. Bregen made a grimace. Wolves freaked him out, with their bright eyes and ghostly voices, and the way they moved, like gliding ghosts. And there was something really frightening about the precision with which they'd pick one animal out of the herd and drive it apart from the others.

Bregen suddenly became aware of how loud his breath his sounded in the silent darkness. He could hear every beat of his heart as well. And then he knew why. It was quiet. The little noises had stopped. Had he known better; he wouldn't have felt relieved. Had he known better; he wouldn't have laughed out loud at his own stupidity, jumping at shadows. Another man might have correctly interpreted the signs and realized that the smaller woodland creatures had gone quiet as they sensed danger, sensed that a hunt was on. But Bregen didn't. Neither was he aware of exactly how vulnerable he was, a pack animal separated from his herd, without the safety that lay in numbers, a fat deer being trailed by a stalking wolf.

Bregen stopped to take a drink from his water-flask, bending his head backwards to let the sweet water stream down his aching throat. And then he found himself tightly gripped from behind, and there was a biting pain at his throat, sharp as a cold steel tooth, and it wasn't cold water splashing him anymore. It was a hotter liquid, hot and sticky, and in the darkness, it was almost black against the whiteness of his skin. As his heartbeat faded his weakening body was caught and carefully lowered to the ground, his head turned to one side to keep his blood from staining his uniform too badly. Before his sight faded, he met the calm eyes of his killer, and he knew that he was dying. And with a sudden flash of insight he knew, he knew that unlike he would have done, his killer would take no particular pleasure in his death and would never dream about it at night. He wouldn't gloat about it afterwards, any more than the wolf would gloat about the taking of the lone deer, might not even remember it enough to gloat about it. It…was nothing personal. 

Dekaras viewed the corpse critically, or rather its uniform. It seemed like a close enough fit. He was silently pleased that the bandits had been foolish enough to fall for the very first trap he'd set and separated into smaller groups. The others were probably still trying to figure out why there had been a small fire in the middle of the forest but no other sign of a campsite. It would take them some time to miss this one, much less go search for him. All the same, the rest of the night's exercises would be better handled elsewhere. The assassin made certain that the wound had stopped bleeding, even going so far as to binding it tightly. He certainly didn't need to leave any tracks as obvious as a trail of blood. There was only a small trickle now that the heart had stopped, but there was no need to take unnecessary chances. After kicking some dirt and leaves over the blood on the ground the assassin dragged the corpse some distance away.

_For once I could almost wish I'd been a brawny berserker_ , Dekaras thought a little ruefully. Deadweight really was just that. When he was satisfied that he had gone far enough he stripped the corpse of its uniform. There was some blood on it, but most of it was easily wiped off and the rest wouldn't be out of the ordinary in the bandit camp. Now for the corpse. Not a detail he would ordinarily have to bother with, but he would prefer it if it was some time before this fellow was discovered. With luck he would be believed to have deserted. And even a few days respite might be enough for scavengers to mangle the body badly enough that the cause of death wouldn't be easily determined. Since he had neither the time nor the means for any extravagant method of corpse disposal Dekaras settled for tucking it inside some dense bushes and spreading some branches over it. At least it wasn't out in the open, and the darkness helped. That done, he tried on his newly acquired uniform. The dark leathers fit well enough and weren't all that different from his own. Most importantly, they allowed him to keep all his own weapons besides the standard issue sword and bow that all the Black Talon's seemed to carry. They would do.

_Yes, I think that will be enough_ , Dekaras thought as he inspected himself. _Only one more thing that could be done, and I'm not going through that again_. Seeing that most of the bandits were northeners, a large part of them were blond. However, the assassin had tried that once, in perfecting another disguise. Blond…just wasn't him. And besides, it didn't look natural unless he changed his eye color as well, and that would take magic. 

With a small frown on his face the assassin slipped away through the dark forest, leaving the corpse behind, already half forgotten. He was still thinking about magic, or more specifically about a certain mage. Edwin's attitude was starting to worry him a little. No, more than just a little, he privately admitted to himself. _He was so very eager to come on this mission. He almost begged his superiors for a chance to prove himself_. A mission that Dekaras himself hadn't been all that enthusiastic about in the first place. Locating this supposed child of Bhaal, Zaerini, was fine. So was attempting to recruit her to further the interests of Thay. Killing her if she refused, now that was another matter entirely, an assignment he never would have accepted himself if he'd had a choice about it. Not that he wouldn't do it if it became necessary. After all, anything to protect the boy's life. And he didn't doubt that that was exactly what was at stake here. The Red Wizards wouldn't tolerate a failure, not in a matter this important.

_So why can't that child stop woolgathering and get some work done? Why all the excuses?_ Dekaras thought about this for a moment. Edwin was certainly intelligent enough to logically understand why he should act as soon as possible, particularly now that Red Wizards had been sighted nearby. But he didn't really have much field experience, and certainly nothing like this. Spying was hardly easy, as he himself well knew. You needed to play your part well enough to fool everybody around you, but without losing yourself in it. Lengthy undercover work was always risky that way. _Which is precisely why he must act soon before he loses his nerve. It may well be that he's got cold feet already, despite my attempts to apply some glowing coals to them_.

But that brought him to the second, and even more worrying problem. _He knows that he's supposed to ask me for help if he finds himself unable to carry out the mission. He knows I will do just about anything to ensure his safety and make things all right, and that I won't blame him for it. True, I have pushed him hard about completing this task, but I've specifically told him that it will be difficult and that there is no need to feel ashamed if he finds himself in too deep. It could be that damnable pride getting in the way of course. He certainly gets enough of that from both his parents._

The assassin shook his head. This was getting him nowhere. Right now, he had something to do, and he had to stay focused. He was approaching the bandit camp, and now he would soon find out if his disguise were good enough. He had tracked a bandit patrol back here previously, and had watched the camp from afar, even done some scouting along the edges. Now it was time to go a little deeper. Hopefully, the infiltration would enable him to provide Edwin with some useful information, something that might facilitate the manipulation of the Bhaalspawn half-elf or at least help her stay alive long enough to actually be manipulated. At the very least it would keep him from getting bored. 

Dekaras walked into the bandit camp using what he thought of as the 'tom-cat saunter'. Basically, it was a lazy, confident and slightly insolent walk that screamed arrogant power. It might get him a few challenges among the bandits, but he'd decided that it would be preferable to the 'meek-and-humble' act. That would be equal provocation, and with less satisfactory result as he would not be able to properly defend himself without destroying the cover. The neutral third alternative would have worked but wouldn't get him as far. He wanted to rise somewhat within the ranks, but without provoking the people in charge. Getting close to them was all that was needed.

The bandits he had passed so far hadn't paid much attention to him, but now one was approaching with a rather self-important look on his face. From what Dekaras had been able to gather plenty of new bandits were recruited all the time as the old ones were killed, and the camp was large. The bandits shouldn't react to seeing an unfamiliar face. Of course, there would have to be some trouble-makers. There always were. 

"You there!" the bandit began. "What…" He didn't get the time to finish.

"You're forgetting yourself", Dekaras told the man in a quiet voice laced with poison. "You are annoying me, and you should know better than to do that." He smiled a lupine smile, one that made a disturbing contrast to the cold glare of his eyes. "Surely your friends have told you what happened to the last person who annoyed me?"

The man was starting to look worried. His friends hadn't told him, but he was getting the distinct feeling that he **should** have known and that he might come to regret his ignorance very shortly. "Er…no", he said. "They didn't. Sir."

"I see", Dekaras said and allowed the smile to increase. The bandit's eyes were darting worriedly from side to side now. "Then please allow me to enlighten you." He started speaking in a low and calm voice, as if explaining something to a dull-witted child, never looking away from the bandit's eyes. Before he had got halfway through his little explanation the bandit started backing slowly away.

"Er…sorry sir", the man stammered. "My mistake. I'll let all the lads know not to bother you."

"You do that." The assassin raised an eyebrow. "Well? What are you waiting for? Birds to nest in your open food-trap? Or did you want a practical demonstration?" The bandit swallowed heavily, closed his still gaping mouth and rapidly removed himself. Before long Dekaras could see him speaking in a quiet voice to one of his compatriots. The assassin pretended not to notice, but he was smiling inwardly. Before long, the rumor would start spreading, no doubt getting very much exaggerated in the process. Everything was working perfectly so far. He was inside the camp. _And now_ , he thought, _for the really interesting part._

The Song of the Morning temple was filled with the sound of sweet chanting. Zaerini drank it in eagerly. She paid little attention to the statue of Lathander with its magical ball of floating light, and less to the sparse but elegant architecture. The song was everything. The song, and the singers. Sirens walked the halls of the temple, beautiful female creatures, with flowing silver hair and green skin. It was their song that whispered in the air, Zaerini knew it, though they were not singing at this moment, their eyes mysterious. The song was distant, an echo. She shuddered to think of how powerful it would be when heard directly.

The priest, Keldath Ormlyr, had thanked the adventurers for their aid in the slaying of the madman Bassilus. He had been sad to hear the tale of young Footy's suffering and had gladly promised to take the boy in. "We will do all we can for him", he said. "The spells will be the easy part, but it will take time before he is fully healed in mind and body. Still, he is young, and the young can be surprisingly strong in these matters."

Zaerini hoped the priest was right. She had felt strongly for the orphan and would have liked to do something more. But there really wasn't anything she could do. She was an orphan herself, a wanderer without a home to offer him. A donation of some money to the temple would help pay for his care, however. Hopefully, that would be enough.

Once done at the temple the party set out once more. Zaerini had decided on their next course of action. They would work their way down south along the coast, trying to find Brage the mad guard-captain. This would earn them even more respect in Nashkel, as well as provide them with some more fighting experience before going after the bandits. So now they found themselves on the literal Sword Coast, some distance west of High Hedge. The sky was gray, heavy clouds rolled by above, driven by the chill and howling wind. There weren't many trees here, mostly hills and bare rock, or at the most grass, dry and hardy. From a distance Rini could hear the sound of crashing waves, and the smell of the sea was strong in her nostrils. "Anybody want to go for a swim?" she asked with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"Swim?!" Edwin said, sounding horrified. "In this weather?" 

"Oh, this isn't so bad", Imoen said with a grin. "Rini actually went winter-bathing once, did she tell you that?"

"Er…OK Immy, that's enough", the bard tried.

"She didn't actually mean to, of course", the pink-haired thief went on, ignoring her friend's embarrassment. "See, she was telling me all about how elves could supposedly walk on snow without sinking, and that she could too, being half-elf. So naturally I asked her to prove it."

"Immy, I'm warning you…"

"Only there wasn't much snow around, so she decided to walk on day-thin ice instead, at one of the beaches outside Candlekeep, reasoning that it was much the same thing." Imoen's grin was even wider now. "I've never heard her squeal as loudly as she did when the ice cracked beneath her feet and she fell in the water. 'Help me', she screams, 'I'm drowning, help me'."

"I think we've heard quite enough, thank you", Zaerini said a little huffily. 

"Then", Imoen went on, "after a minute or so she finally realized that the water only reached to her waist." The thief laughed. "So, I guess the moral of the story is that half-elves may not be able to walk on snow, but they are able to walk on the bottom of the ocean." She smiled a little wistfully. "Boy, was Gorion ever mad at us when we came home. But then he made us hot chocolate and told us stories. Say Rini, do you want to tell us a story?"

"Yes", Rini said. "I'll tell you the story about the girl who had a crush on Drizzt Do'Urden if you like."

"Er…Rini, you don't have to…"

"This girl", the bard interrupted, "was so obsessed with Drizzt that she wanted to become a drow. So, she rubbed coal all over her skin and poured flour in her hair to make it white. Then she walked all around Candlekeep with a gnarly old stick in her hand, telling everybody that it was a tentacle rod. And let's not forget the fact that she told old Karan, our tutor, that he was a mindflayer out to devour her brain."

Edwin's eyes nearly boggled. "What did he do?" he asked, his voice almost reverent.

"Oh, Karan is a very sweet man. He didn't do anything other than inform Gorion. And Gorion made this nameless girl copy out some letters he had, letters where Drizzt described his heroic feats. Horrible letters they were, boastful as anything. After she'd copied them ten times her crush had mysteriously evaporated."

"You know", Edwin said, "I think I would have enjoyed meeting your Gorion."

"Yeah", Zaerini said with a sad smile. "I would have liked you to meet him too…" 

_There is something strange up ahead_ , Softpaws said as she came strolling out from behind a rock. 

_What is it?_

_A strange female who smells like a fish. I want you to fetch me some fish when we get to the water, by the way._

_I'm really not that good at fishing, Softy._

_Then what good are you?_

_Oh, be nice. Let's take a look at this 'strange female' then._

The 'female' turned out to be a woman with blue-green skin and long green hair. It reached all the way to her waist, and there was seaweed entangled in it here and there. Her eyes were green as well, the green of seawater. She looked much like the sirens at the temple had done, in fact. She was sitting on a small rock, combing her hair. When she heard the adventurers approach, she looked up, and her eyes widened in surprise. "Please to help me, will you?" she said. Her voice was sweet and lilting. "I am Shoal. I am alone on this desolate dry-land and who knows what lurks in these woods."

"O-o-of course", Khalid said. "A-a-accompany us and we will make certain you are s-safe."

"Hmpf", Jaheira said. "She is a nereid if I am not mistaken. I am certain she can take care of herself."

"B-but Jaheira I…"

Shoal had risen from her rock, and now she gave Khalid an enchanting smile. "Then might I have a parting kiss? I doubt I'll see you again." Khalid gave her a nervous look. Jaheira said nothing, but her face had suddenly settled into a frozen mask. 

"I-i-it is not my p-place to do so", he prudently said. "I h-hardly know you."

A strange glimmer came into the nereid's green eyes. They still reminded Zaerini of the sea, but now it was the sea at her coldest and harshest, the sea who drowns sailors and destroys ships. "I am truly sorry, but I must insist!" She flung her smooth green arms around Khalid's neck, and before he or anybody else could react she had already pressed her cold lips to his. Khalid shuddered violently, his face gray and pained. Then his eyes closed and he fell to the ground. He wasn't breathing.

"Khalid?" Jaheira whispered. "Khalid! No! NOOOO!" The druid rushed at the nereid without any consideration for her own safety, everything else forgotten in her grief and fury. Rini prepared to cast a spell, but there was no need. Jaheira already had the nereid on the ground, and her scimitar was pressing into the sea-woman's perfect skin, just above her left breast.

"And now", Jaheira growled, "you die, for my Khalid."

"No!" Shoal cried out. "This is no longer fun! I cannot die for this! They are my actions, but not my intent! I can but do as I am bid by the master! Please, I can make him rise again!"

"Lies!" Jaheira spat. "You are no cleric, to have such power over the dead. Cease your mockery and die with dignity if you have any."

"I do not lie! He is not dead, not really. My kiss only brings the…how do you land-dwellers call it…the deep sleep of winter? He is only mostly dead, almost alive. Let me up and I can bring him back, but if you kill me, he will be dead all the way."   
"Jaheira", Zaerini said, "I think you should do as she asks. She could be telling the truth. We can't afford not to try."

"Suppose she lies?" the druid said. Her green eyes were filled with such a mixture of pain and fury as Rini had never seen there before. It frightened her immensely. Jaheira was…Jaheira. She was always so strong, so contained. It was in that moment that Rini realized just how much that steady presence meant to her in terms of stability, no matter how much the druid might irritate her at times. And she felt proud that Jaheira actually trusted her to make this decision. She wouldn't let her friend down.

"If she lies, she dies", Zaerini said and gave the nereid a hard look. She pressed her lightning wand against Shoal's head. "Khalid has always been a good friend to me. Now restore him, Shoal, unless you want to receive a 'kiss' of your own."

Shoal hesitantly got to her feet and bent over Khalid's prone body, whispering something in a language Zaerini couldn't understand. In a few moments the half-elven warrior sat up, looking confused. "W-what h-h-happened?" he asked.

With a small gasp of relief Jaheira rushed to her husband's side, embracing him tightly. "Oh Khalid", she cried out. "I thought you were…" Then she seemed to remember where she was and how many people were watching. "You great big fool!" she scolded. "How could you allow her to simply walk up and kiss you like that? Khalid, I swear that if you ever die on me you…you will never hear the end of it!" 

Khalid simply smiled and patted his wife's hand. "I am s-s-sorry, dear", he said. "And such a threat should k-k-keep me alive indefinitely, so you n-needn't worry."

Once she saw that her friends were all right Zaerini turned to Shoal. The nereid was standing there with her arms crossed, looking pouty. "So", Rini said. "Who's this 'master' you mentioned, and what are you doing with him?"

Shoal sighed, and it sounded like the hiss of waves rolling in from the depths. "I would not be here at all, but my shawl is held by Ogre-Droth. It is my essence he commands, so to him I listen. It was a lark for a while, but no longer. I do not want to harm you further, but if he so wills, then I must. It is all I can do."

"She's a slave?" Imoen asked. "That's terrible! Why would anybody want to do a thing like that?"

"Oh, I can imagine a few reasons", Zaerini said, watching the beautiful nereid. "None of them pleasant. Shoal, perhaps I can help you get free."

Shoal looked surprised at the offer. "Oh. Yes, I would like that. Please, do. I will call for him." She raised her head and called out, a single clear note that soared on the wind like a seagull. A few minutes later a loud voice could be heard in the distance. It was grumbling. Clearly the speaker wasn't particularly happy about being called away from whatever he had been doing.

"Please tell me", Edwin said in a conversational voice, "that you thought of some sort of cunning master plan before you volunteered to risk all of our lives over this…this amphibian?"

"Er…" Rini said. "Well…not really. I thought I'd make it up as I go along."

"Wonderful. Please let me know if you get any other heroic impulses, like wanting to go off and save the world. (I'd like to know when to pretend to be ill. A simple heat spell should be able to fool these people into believing I have a temperature.)"

Rini didn't have the time to answer. A large shape came striding towards the adventurers, a large shape with horns on its head and a deep and booming voice. _Well, it's not Sarevok_ , the bard thought. _Not that an Ogre Mage is all that much better, mind you._

"What be this trouble Shoal?", the ogre roared. "Why you have not destroyed these small-pinks? You're not to make me angry, water-child!"

Shoal cowered before the ogre, clearly afraid to upset him. "It is not my fault, Ogre-Droth. They are stronger than I."

"Pah! They are meat for larder and gold for purse! Kill them we shall!"

_I think that's your cue, kitten_ , Softpaws said. 

_Right. Now let me see…_ "No, great Droth", Zaerini cried out, mimicking Shoal's voice. "Spare your water-child! I am faithful to you!"

"Huh?" the Ogre Mage said. "Pink-thing speak in voice of water-child? How…" He didn't have the time to say anything else before a poisoned arrow hit him in the chest, making him roar with pain. _Yes!_ Zaerini thought. The poison should keep him from getting off his spells.

_Don't sheathe your claws just yet, kitten_ , Softpaws said. _He still wants to fight._

And so he did. The Ogre Mage drew a large sword, almost as long as Zaerini was tall, and charged towards her, clearly bent on cleaving her in two.

_Ooops_. Rini was a good runner, at least over short distances, and most importantly she was agile enough to leap over rocks that the ogre had to go around. Even so he might well have overtaken her if not for Edwin's timely intervention. Zaerini suddenly felt herself virtually flying across the ground, much faster than she could have run on her own. Behind her she could hear the ogre scream with pain as it was struck with several of Imoen's arrows. Then the smell of burning hair as Edwin hit him with a fire spell. She turned to fire another poison arrow and saw Jaheira and Khalid charge the now weakened ogre. It wasn't long before he went down. 

"By the waters of home, I am free once more!" Shoal cried out. "You must pardon me for leaving so quick, but I'll not spend another second on this hard-land. It was a fun game, but it is stale now. Thank you, goodbye!"

"Just a second", Zaerini said. "In return for my help, I would like to ask you something."

"Yes", Shoal said. "I suppose you deserve something for helping. Would you like some pearls? I have some pretty black pearls somewhere…"

"I'm sure they're very nice, but that's not what I was thinking of. I just want you to teach me your cousins' song…"

Once the bard had finished her explanation Shoal nodded. Then she took Zaerini aside and went about her lesson.

That evening the adventurers camped among some high rocks that gave protection from the biting wind. Edwin was having problems sleeping though. There seemed to be voices intruding on his dreams, clear and musical voices singing in the distance. Then he opened his eyes and realized that he still could hear them. He rose silently, looking about the camp. Jaheira and Khalid were sleeping, lying close to each other. Imoen was sitting near the small campfire, writing something in a book. Now and then she giggled to herself. Edwin padded up silently behind her and looked over her shoulder. "Who's 'Blackie'?" he asked curiously.

Imoen yelped and hurriedly shut the book. "Er…nobody", she hurriedly said. "Nobody you know. What's up? And why are you sneaking about like that? I'm the thief here, leave that to me."

"I wasn't sneaking", the Red Wizard said, preparing to make a barbed comment about giggly girls. Then he noticed something. "Where is Zaerini?" he asked.

Imoen shrugged. "She went down to the beach", she said. "Said she had something to do."

"She shouldn't go wandering off on her own in the middle of the night. That could be dangerous."

The pink-haired girl winked at him. "Awww, are ya worried about her? That's sweet, you know."

"I'm not worried! I just do not want her to get killed through some stupid mishap, that's all. (That dreadful druid would find some way to blame me for it, I just know it.)"

"Whatever. Rini hasn't gone far, it's just down that way. You could go after her, I suppose. She might appreciate the company."

Edwin decided to do just that. He couldn't very well carry out his mission if the bard got herself eaten by wolves or drowned by mermen, after all. For some reason Imoen giggled behind his back as he walked off, a very disturbing noise, particularly since he couldn't figure out just what she thought was so funny. The moonlight helped him see well enough, and the sound of the rolling waves led him towards the shoreline. And there was the singing again, closer now. He wondered that Imoen hadn't heard it. Then he came upon the small beach, and all thoughts but a kind of mute wonder fled his mind.

The waves were almost black in the darkness, but the black was crested with silver flecks of moonlight and white foam. They broke upon the white sand of the shore, retreated and attacked again, wearing the scattered rocks round and silky smooth. As beautiful as it was, it wasn't the scenery that had captured the Red Wizard's attention though. Two sirens stood in the water, waves frolicking around their slender green bodies. White hair danced in the wind, eyes the color of moonlight shone with joy as they sang. Wordless song streamed from their throats, notes as enchanting as moonlight, as treacherous as the sea. 

Zaerini stood on the edge of the water, answering and meeting the sirens' song. Her arms were stretched out as if she was giving a blessing, and there was a wide smile on her face, one that made her look entirely happy and carefree, for once without the wariness that usually lurked behind her golden eyes. Her voice was the equal of the sirens', Edwin thought, but warmer, not so alien. She was adapting the sirens' song, Edwin realized, remaking it without removing its basic beauty. When she sang, he could still see a sea, but a hot sea, a sea of fire. Waves became flickering flames, playful and exuberant. Yet it was still the same song. He stood transfixed, unable to move or to speak. After some time, the song ended. The bard bowed to the sirens who bent their heads in return before leaping into the waves, heading away from the shore.

"You know", Zaerini said, as she turned around to acknowledge the wizard's presence, "I never properly thanked you for saving my life earlier. That was a very handy spell you used." She blushed slightly. "I hope getting treated to the song of two sirens counts as proper repayment. Shoal taught me well enough that they will count me as a friend now."

"It…was my pleasure", Edwin said. "I…wouldn't have wanted to miss the opportunity of telling you how ridiculously foolhardy you were, after all. But it seems to me that you may have miscounted."

"What do you mean?"

"I didn't see two sirens here tonight. I saw three."

The bard smiled again. "Thank you", she simply said. Then she got a naughty gleam in her eyes. "We'd better get back though. Otherwise Immy will likely tell the others that I'm busy giving you Shoal's Kiss of Death, rather than just singing. She loves to gossip."

"Oh. Yes. Certainly. Not that there's anything to gossip about, of course."

"Of course not. Not that that will stop her."

As they started walking back towards the camp Edwin noticed Zaerini's black cat watching him from atop a large rock, munching on a small fish. There was something disturbingly knowing about the look in its glowing green eyes, as well as about the amused look on its face. If he didn't know better, he could have sworn that the cat was snickering.


	18. Passionate Pirate and Dancing Drow

**In The Cards 18 – Passionate Pirate and Dancing Drow**

_A good con is like a work of art, or a piece of music. Everything has to be just right. You want the mark to think he is making the deal of a lifetime, perhaps even that he's conning you. And you want him to think everything that happens is his own idea while you're actually pulling the strings yourself._

_Excerpt from 'Ruminations Of A Master Bard'_

"So, anybody heard of this Davaeorn fellow?" Zaerini asked her friends. The party had encountered a large group of ogres the previous day and had been much the worse for wear. Fortunately, they had run into a mysterious healer who called himself 'the Surgeon' and who claimed to be trying to compensate for the acts of evil committed by his brother Davaeorn. Apparently, the Surgeon blamed himself for not killing his brother when he had the chance.

"He is unknown to me", Jaheira said, "but then there is no shortage of ruthless wizards with plans for world domination." She gave Edwin a pointed look.

"There doesn't exactly seem to be a drought of self-important tree-huggers fond of random preaching either", the Red Wizard said. "More's the pity. (And I don't plan to rule the entire world. Much too cumbersome. Thay will do nicely.)"

"Oh look", Imoen said. "There's somebody waving to us." The person in question turned out to be an attractive young woman, with flowing brown hair and a seductive smile. Her dark purple leathers had clearly been selected to create maximum visual impact on any hapless male who wandered by.

"Why hello", the woman said in a soft and breathy voice. "My, I never expected to find so…handsome strangers in these parts." She looked from Khalid to Edwin beneath her hooded lids, and a small smile played around the corners of her mouth. "I have a problem that only you could help me solve."

"Maybe if you told us your name and problem, we could help you", Zaerini said, trying to catch the woman's eye. "It would depend on what you want."

"Well, good sirs, you may call me Safana", the woman said, her attention still focused on the men. "You'll have to excuse me if I sound startled, but in the south where I come from, they don't grow their men as big as any of you. Anyhow, if you want, I have a way to make you all fabulously wealthy. In my possession I have a map that gives the location of an old pirate treasure trove. According to the writings on the map, it's where the legendary Black Alaric dumped his treasure before being captured by the Amnish fleets! You interested in hearing more?"

"We're always interested in hearing about money", Edwin said, looking interested. "Any possibility of any magical scrolls involved in that treasure? Tomes of power maybe?"

Safana smiled again, a smile that set Rini's teeth on edge. "The reason I need so many heroic men, is that the caverns where I wish to go are guarded by some sort of creature, which kind I couldn't tell you. If you help me, I'll let you share in the treasure. I may be grateful in other ways, as well."

_That does it_ , Rini thought. "The decision rests with me", she said. She placed herself in front of Safana and looked the woman directly in the eyes, blasting her with the full force of her hottest glare. "The pirate treasure sounds interesting, and we will help you find it. As for your 'gratitude', you may want to keep that to yourself to avoid finding out about my 'ingratitude'. Do we have a deal?"

After a few moments Safana looked away. "Yes", she said, and her voice was harsher than before. "Yes, I understand."

"Good. See that you don't forget yourself. I don't take kindly to that sort of forgetfulness."

Safana kept her flirting to a bare minimum after that, becoming very businesslike and much more likable. As she guided the party towards the hidden cave, she explained that she was originally from Calimport, the daughter of a wealthy noble. She had craved adventure from an early age and had eventually run away with the first mate of the pirate ship 'Exzeus'. Having sailed with the pirates for several years she had now decided to strike out on her own.

"Right", Rini said with a cynical smile. "Was it because you were found in bed with the wrong sailor or simply because you wanted to get away with the treasure map?"

"What a suspicious mind", Safana said. Then she smiled. "Actually, it was because the 'wrong sailor' woke up as I was about to make off with the map." She fingered one of her throwing daggers and winked. "Dead men may not talk, but corpses left in your wake at least whisper. I thought it might be a good idea to make a run for it." Then she paused. "Of course, some dead pirates do talk. You should have seen this zombie pirate I met once. Strong man, very powerful, but that wriggling old moldy beard of his was just so…undesirable."

Safana's pirate stories were actually quite entertaining, and Zaerini filed them away for further reference. Not that she believed half of them, but that wasn't really what was important. A good story could always do with some improving anyway. She was already amusing herself with spinning a tale. It was all about Elminster getting together with a pirate witch who turned out to actually be an enchanted three-headed monkey, and she was almost done when she heard the voice.

"This is not your place. This is the home of Sil's tribe! Dirty land folk, you shall suffer for your trespass." More sirens! Three of them, looking suspicious and angry.

"Hold!" the bard cried before the sea-women started casting their spells. "I have spoken to your sisters to the north of here." She sang a few notes of the song she had been taught by Shoal.

"Yes", Sil said, her silver eyes calm now. "Sil has heard of you, singer. You may pass through our land, as long as you harm it not."

"I promise", Zaerini said and bowed to the siren. "Tell me, do you know of a cave around these parts? That is what I and my companions seek, and once we have found what lies within, we shall leave again."

Sil looked thoughtful. "Sil knows the place", she said and pointed due north. "It is not far. But it is a dark place, dangerous. Nasty pink flesh-things live there."

"Pink flesh-things? What do you mean?"

"Big things, like land folk but even uglier. Big fists, crush Sil's children. You kill them, maybe?"

"Maybe", Rini said. "We'll see." Then she turned to her friends. "Anybody got any ideas about how to fight 'pink flesh-things'?" she asked. 

In the end it was decided that Imoen would scout ahead and see what she could find out. After a little while she came back, panting and red-cheeked as if she'd been running. "It's flesh golems", she said. "Like Thalantyr had. Don't know how many, but more than one for sure. One of them spotted me, so I couldn't get very far inside the cave. I was lucky they didn't follow me out."

"Flesh golems…" Edwin said, looking as if he was thinking hard about something. "Seems there's something I should remember about flesh golems…"

"Well, golems mean magic", Rini said. "And magic means wizards." She gave Safana a hard look. "This pirate who hid the treasure, did he employ a wizard by any chance?"

"I think so", the pirate woman said with a shrug. "Yes, now that you mention it, he did."

"Thank you so much for sharing these little things with us, Safana. Who knows how many magical traps and monsters may be inside that cave?"

Safana said nothing, but there was something very shifty about the look in her eyes. She hadn't said all she knew, Zaerini was certain of it. They would all have to watch their steps once they got closer to the treasure.

"Flesh golems!" Edwin suddenly exclaimed. His eyes went a little unfocused and he put his hands on his back as he started reciting. "Not as dangerous as for example the Clay Golem, and they may be harmed by any magical weapon. Completely impervious to magic. Of special interest is the fact that they are highly susceptible to poison, due to the substance from which they are created." For a second, he almost looked as if he expected a pat on the head, and then he seemed to come back to the present. "Or so I have been told", he said. "Knowing about different creatures is very helpful, wouldn't you say? (Not that I expect most of these people to know about anything but their fellow simians.)"

"Thanks, Eddie", Zaerini said with a grin. "Looks like we have the beginnings of a plan."

The cave was dark and dank. The sound of waves was all around, as if the adventurers were walking partly under water, and here and there it dripped from the walls as well. The party hadn't gone far before they heard a terrible roar and a huge creature came lumbering towards them out of one of the dark tunnels. It was man-shaped, but both taller and heavier than any normal man. It had no skin at all, just red-pink flesh, with bare muscles and sinews showing as it moved. It did have eyes, staring mindless eyes, and those eyes were currently turned towards the people who had dared intrude where the golem had been ordered to guard. "Rarrrrgh!" it roared again and stomped towards them. Then it froze. Zaerini had hit it with an arrow, one of her remaining poison ones, and now the golem stood stock still, paralyzed as the poison spread through its system, unable to do anything but whimper. One more arrow struck it in the throat, and it crashed to the ground with a booming sound.

"Neat!" Imoen said.

"Yes", Edwin agreed. "Poison can be very useful. Quite an amazing thing to see it actually work as specified."

"What?" Rini hissed. "Are you telling me you weren't sure it would?"

"Of course I was sure. Mostly sure. I'd never seen it for myself though."

"Great."

Safana pulled her hand through her brown hair and smiled. "Ah, all this death and excitement", she said. "It makes me feel so…sensual."

"Oh, just shut up."

Two more flesh golems were encountered and similarly disposed of. The tunnels led deeper into the mountain, and more than once Imoen warned her friends off as she stopped to disarm a trap. Eventually they reached another cave, one with a central pool of water.

"This is it!" Safana said excitedly. "The sea lets water into this cave, flooding it daily. But when the water subsides there will be a small island in that pool, and that is where the treasure is hidden. By my father's bones and all the rum Black Alaric ever drank, we'll be rich! Rich!"

"Perhaps", Zaerini said in a neutral voice. She knew a thing or two about pirates. Something told her that Safana wouldn't be all that willing to share once the treasure was actually found.

_Nervous, kitten?_ Softpaws asked.

_No, not really. I never trusted her in the first place. When she makes her move I'll be ready and waiting._

It was a few hours before the water in the pool receded enough. A small island slowly became visible, mostly just a smooth rock. And there, chained to the rock with many heavy chains, was a large chest.

"That's it!" Safana cried out. "Black Alaric's treasure! Hurry, go get it! I'll stay behind to…to guard your backs."

Khalid was just about to go into the water when Rini caught him by the arm. "Not so fast", she said. "Safana, since this is your plan I think you should go into the water first. We wouldn't want you to suspect us of robbing you."

The pirate paled a little. "But I…"

"No", Zaerini said with a shark-like smile. "I feel I must insist. It's only polite. And you are, after all, the one who holds the map and knows more about this place than anyone."

Safana looked as if she were about to try to say something, but then she clearly decided it would be useless. With a look of extreme trepidation on her face she waded into the water. Rini watched carefully. The surface was calm, dotted with seaweed here and there, thick green clumps of it. _Hold on a second_ , she thought. _There wasn't any seaweed there before, was there?_ The bard felt an uneasy prickle at the back of her neck. Something was wrong. And then she saw the eyes. Large, pale eyes. And it wasn't seaweed at all, it was…tentacles!

"Octopus!" the half-elf cried out, hurriedly casting a Magic Missile into the writhing green mass of tentacles. Safana jerked her head around in fear and surprise, and then she screamed. The octopus was right behind her, its green body as large as a horse, the snake-like tentacles lashing out to seize her. The large beak was open, prominently displaying a bright orange tongue. Safana hurriedly scrambled to reach the island, but the water was slowing her down. A large tentacle grabbed her around the waist and started dragging her towards the waiting mouth. The pirate screamed again, a half-choked sound as if she were having trouble breathing. 

Zaerini narrowly dodged the strike of a tentacle and let fly another Magic Missile. It only glanced the leathery hide of the octopus, but Edwin was luckier, scoring a direct hit in one of the bulging eyes. The eye burst like a rotten melon and the octopus screeched with pain and flailed wildly, throwing Safana aside. The pirate struck the wall of the cave with a nasty crash and slid to the ground, unconscious. Khalid and Jaheira were hacking furiously at one of the tentacles, eventually managing to sever it, but not before getting sprayed with a cloud of black ink that left them sputtering and almost blind. The octopus had had enough, however. With a final keening wail, it slid into the water and disappeared from sight. 

"Well", Jaheira said as she wiped the ink from her face, "that was fortunate."

"Fortunate?" Imoen asked. "We almost got eaten by a giant squid. What's so fortunate about that?"

"It was a rather small specimen", Jaheira explained. "Just a baby, I think. I suggest we all get out of here before it returns with its mother."

"I second that", Edwin said with a shudder.

"M-m-me too", Khalid agreed.

"Just a minute", Rini said. "We still want to get the treasure, don't we? And then there's Safana. She intended us all to get eaten by the octopus and take the treasure for herself."

"What are you going to do with her?" Edwin asked with an intrigued look on his face.

"Oh, I have a suitably piratey idea about that. Help me get that chest and I'll show you…"

When Safana awoke it was dark. Dark, damp, smelly and above all very cramped. She was lying doubled up in a fetal position, almost unable to move at all. Outside her wooden prison she could hear water, the splash and hiss of rising waves. "Help!" she screamed. "Get me out of here." There was a brief moment of silence, and then she heard a voice.

"Awake, are you?" It was the voice of that damnable red-headed half-elf. Safana bitterly regretted trying to trick that one. She should have waited to find a party of all men; they would have been far easier to handle.

"Look, get me out of here", Safana tried. "I'm sure we can work something out."

"I'm sure you could", Zaerini said. "But I like you just fine where you are. You do realize where you are, don't you? Though I suppose it must be rather dark in there, despite the fact that I made a few air-holes. Not much sun around here, you know."

Safana shuddered. Inside the treasure chest. She was inside the treasure chest, there could be no doubt about it. The waves seemed to be closer now, she could feel water splashing against the side of the chest, some of it leaking into it. "Let me out!" she screamed again. "The tide is coming in!"

"Why, I do believe you're right." That musical voice was laced with a hint of mockery now. "What a clever little back-stabber you are."

"But…but the water will fill the entire cave! It will leak in through the holes! I'll drown!"

"Possibly. Unless you're very, very good at lock-picking. Then again, the lock is on the outside of the chest, so I suggest you start practicing right about now."

"I'll pay you! You can have the treasure, all of it!"

"But I already have all of it", Zaerini said. "And a very nice treasure it was too. I think I could get into this pirate stuff. What was it you said? 'Dead men don't talk'? Sounds about right to me. You shouldn't have tried to kill me, you know."

Zaerini stepped away from the chest, suppressing a giggle at the furious swear-words emanating from within. "You're a wet little worm fit only for fish-bait!" Safana screamed.

"Yeah?" Rini retorted. "Looks like I baited you right onto my plate!" She splashed some more water on the chest for good measure and then she walked down the beach to where her friends were waiting. It was night by now, dark enough that no tattling sun would spoil Safana's surprise. "Let's go", she said. "We'll leave her to amuse herself in there."

Edwin gave her an approving glance. "How long do you think it will be before she figures out she's out here in the open rather than inside the cave, and that she won't actually drown at all?"

"Probably quite a few hours", the bard said with an amused grin. "Should give her plenty of time to reflect on the folly of trying to trick me."

"Yes", Edwin said. "Very clever. Very clever. A most satisfying vengeance."

"She won't starve to death, will she?" Imoen said.

"Oh no", Rini assured her and pushed her red hair out of her eyes. "Sil and her sisters will let her out tomorrow and run her off their land. I told them not to bother being gentle about it, but I'm not heartless enough to wish her a slow death like that. She did tell me some good pirate stories after all." Then the half-elf laughed. "In fact, I think I'll start practicing. Arrrrrh, me mateys! The loot is ours, the foe is buried, and it's time we sail! There be more treasure awaitin'!" She paused. "How's that?"

"Actually", Edwin said, "I think the 'arrrh' is somewhat redundant. It makes you sound like you have a sore throat."

"Nothin' a little pirate rum won't cure, me fine laddie!"

Edwin sighed. "Fine", he said. "But don't expect me to be the Captain's pet monkey, that's all I say. (Though an eyepatch might give me a roguish and interesting look. And possibly a parrot as well.)"

"Right", Zaerini said. Then she thought of something. "But don't get too carried away. You don't really need a peg leg, and I think you'd look dreadful with tattoos."

"How about a small nose ring?"

"NO! Definitely not! Honestly, haven't you got any taste at all, Eddie?"

-*-

In a dark chamber far away a mage raised his eyes from his scrying ball. "Interesting", he said in a low voice. "She burns brightly, that one. A promising prospect. We must watch her closely to further evaluate her."

"Yes", his dark companion agreed. "But remember, my brother, we need two of them."

"I remember. And it will be arranged. Yes, all will be arranged. In time."

-*-

"Ow!" Zaerini said. "I'm bleeding!" She was sitting on the ground with her legs crossed, and she was giving her finger a nasty look.

"Well, you should be more careful", Jaheira said. "Splinters will do that to you."

The bard sighed. "I'm simply not a wilderness person", she said. "I don't know how you can like it so much. It's just trees, trees, moss, rocks, bushes, mosquitoes and what did I forget? Oh yes. Trees. Booorrrrring!"

"There is more to nature than trees!" Jaheira protested.

"Like what?"

"Well…flowers."

"They're just colorful miniature trees."

"Grass."

"Trees without the proper food."

"Deer."

"Trees on four legs. Come on, their antlers even look like branches. You're making this way too easy."

"Rabbits then."

"Fluffy trees. Look at those ears and tell me they're not really leaves."

"Oh, I give up", Jaheira said, throwing up her hands in disgust as she stood to leave. "You are absolutely impossible; do you know that?"

"Of course I do", Rini said with an amused grin. "Part of my charm. Where are you going?"

"I and Khalid will go hunting and see what we can scrape together as food for tonight. That is if you children can manage to stay here on your own without tearing the camp apart."

"What will you be hunting?"

"Trees", Jaheira said, and though her face was stony her green eyes were amused. "Now be good. If you get in trouble, just send up a spell in the air or something."

After Khalid and Jaheira had left there were approximately three minutes of silence, apart from the whining of the numerous mosquitoes. Zaerini watched the campsite. Tents. Trees. Gear. Dirt. Grass. Trees. Then she sighed. "I'm bored", she said. "Anybody else?"

Edwin looked up from his spellbook. "Actually, yes", he said. "Very much so."

"Me too", Imoen agreed. She was sitting on a fallen log, carving a wooden sword to amuse herself.

"What is that thing supposed to be anyway?" Edwin asked in a derisive voice.

"I just thought it might come in handy if we ever come across some vampires."

"Vampires!" Edwin sneered. "I'd say the only bloodsuckers we need to worry about out here are these accursed mosquitoes." He waved his hand in front of his face to illustrate his point. "You'd be better off trying to carve us a protective net. (And they all seem to go for me! Does every single mosquito prefer the taste of Thayvian blood?)"

"Hold on", Zaerini said at that moment. "Did either of you hear something just now?" The wizard and the thief both listened intently. All they could hear was the annoying piping of the mosquitoes. 

"No", Edwin said. "But then you are the one with the big ears."

"And you are the one with the big mouth. I'm serious, you know." Rini cocked her head to one side, irritably pushing her red hair out of her eyes. "There it is again!" she exclaimed. "Sounds like fighting! Let's go look!" Without waiting for a response, she jumped to her feet and ran off towards the sound, Softpaws hot on her heels.

"Did she just say, 'sounds like fighting, let's go look'?" Edwin asked in an incredulous voice. "I never knew that divine blood also carried insanity."

"Oh, don't be a stick-in-the-mud", Imoen said as she pulled him to his feet. "At least we won't be bored anymore…"

As the adventurers got further into the forest the sounds grew louder. Eventually even the two humans were able to hear them easily. Steel crashing against steel, loud grunts and squeals as well as angry barking. The hot and sickeningly sweet smell of blood hung heavy in the air. Then there was a voice. A haughty, imperious voice. "All I want is to continue my journey!" it said." More thuds and squeals. "Friends await while I must suffer this tiresome dance!" Loud screams of pain. "Does the mere mention of Drizzt attract your ilk?"

The three adventurers looked at each other. All of them were familiar with the name. "Drizzt!" Zaerini whispered. "This should be interesting!"

As they emerged from the shade of the trees into a sunlit clearing they met with an impressive scene. A male Drow walked there, white hair in stark contrast to his ebony skin. The sunlight glittered off his beautiful chainmail armor as well as off the twin scimitars he wielded with accustomed grace. The lovely weapons twinkled like stars, at least where they were not soiled with blood and innards. For the famous Drow ranger was in the middle of a fight, a pitched battle against a large group of gnolls. From the amount of blood and various bodyparts on the ground it was clear that the fight had been going on for some time already. "You there!" Drizzt called out. "Will you help a stranger in need? I am beset by gnolls!"

"Fear not, we will not stand aside while another is in peril", Zaerini said. The gnolls didn't look all that difficult to her, and she wanted to get on the Drow's good side. The letters from him that Gorion had kept hinted that he was very much like a peacock. Quite vain and not especially bright. Wealthy too, with those lovely scimitars. And Zaerini had always liked the combination of 'rich' and 'stupid'.

"The fight is joined", Drizzt said, "and I welcome your aid. Tiresome beasts these gnolls are, and I'll be glad to be done with them!" He smiled proudly and decapitated yet another gnoll. Then he flashed Zaerini a large and toothy smile and tossed his head to make certain a lock of white hair tumbled charmingly across his smooth forehead. "Of course, I've sparred with demons from the Nine Hells themselves", he boasted. "I shall barely break a sweat here today."

_If you're so hot, then how come you need our help against a few gnolls?_ Zaerini thought. _And besides, shouldn't that be 'devils from the Nine Hells'?_

The unfortunate gnolls didn't last very long, and soon Zaerini and her friends stood face to face with Drizzt on a field of blood and gore. "Well met, stranger", Drizzt said. He was still smiling, and he managed to make the sun glint off his perfect teeth. "I am, as you must certainly know, Drizzt Do'Urden, Drizzt the Drow. I appreciate your assistance, but I really haven't the time to write any autographs. It is a long enough trip to the Icewind Dale, even without these constant interruptions."

"Drizzt the Drow", Edwin muttered quietly. "Looks more like Drizzt the Dork to me. (Possibly Drizzt the Dumb, or Drizzt the Doofus.)" 

Zaerini subtly nudged the Red Wizard in the side. "Humor me", she hissed out of the corner of her mouth. "Whatever I say, just nod and smile, OK?" Then she smiled at Drizzt, the impressed and adoring smile of a naive young girl. "Drizzt the Drow!" she gushed. "Oh wow! It's like, great to meet you! Like, you're our big Hero, you know! Right, sis?" She winked at Imoen and the thief quickly understood, being used to participating in her friend's scams.

"Right!" Imoen said. "We totally worship ya, Drizzt. You're our Hero! And so hunky! Drizzt the Divine, I say!"

Drizzt preened. There could be no other word for it. He puffed his chest out and stood with his legs heroically wide apart, thumbs in his belt and forefingers pointing in a not-so-subtle gesture towards his manfully displayed pelvis.

"Oooh!" Zaerini said and put a finger in her mouth to create the impression of an admiring girl ready to faint. She fluttered her eyelashes at the Drow. "That is, like, such a totally Heroic posture, you know. It, like, really speaks to me!"

"Yes", Edwin muttered as he made a sour grimace. "And it says, 'Please plant your foot right here for the pleasure of hearing me scream like a little girl'."

"But I forget my, like, manners", Rini said and pinched the wizard hard to make him shut up. "I'm, like, Bimby. This is my sister Pinky." She then pointed at Edwin. "And that is, like, our brother Bob. He's, like, such a total dweeb you know. Never knows when to keep his, you know, mouth shut." Zaerini concentrated hard to try to make it look like the eager light in her eyes was shining directly through an empty skull. "Pity you, like, have to leave", she said in a regretful voice and pouted prettily. "What with the Rust Monster and all…"

"Rust Monster?" Drizzt asked, looking suddenly extremely interested.

_He's sniffing at the bait_ , Zaerini thought with some satisfaction. "Ooops!" she said and put her hand over her mouth. "Silly me! I wasn't, like, supposed to say that. Just forget I, like, mentioned it, OK?"

_Very clever, kitten_ , Softpaws approved. _That is sure to pique his curiosity._

"Please, dear lady", Drizzt said eagerly, "you can tell me. I am, after all, a great Hero." He made a show of displaying his firm chin. There was also some more winking of sun off teeth, as well as some more thrusting out of the chest.

"No, no, no", the bard giggled coyly. "I really mustn't. See, I promised our friend, who's, like, the local ranger, not to let anybody other than the, you know, greatest Hero in the world fight the Rust Monster. Anybody else would, like, die." She made a disgusted face.

"Fear not!" Drizzt cried out and thrust his chest so far forward that he almost fell on his back. "For you have found him! I implore you, fair lady, speak and fear no more. Drizzt the Divine is at your service." The smile broadened. "Now…and perhaps afterwards?"

_Drizzt the Doofus is in my pocket, more likely. Let's move on then and make him really hang himself_. "That is, like, awesome!" the half-elf said and put the palm of her hand against her chest, as if overwhelmed. "You, like, do know what Rust Monsters are like, right?"

Drizzt's smile faltered a little. "Er…yes", he said. "Naturally. Of course, I do. But I fight so many terrible beasts, and it has been a while. Perhaps you could tell me what your particular Rust Monster is like?"

"Like, sure! It's been cursed by a wizard, so it's much bigger than normal, as big as a, you know, bear. It's the color of rust and it smells like wet iron, and it has these, like, horrid long fangs and evil red glowing eyes. It sounds like 'Neek, Neek'. Oh, and it can make itself, like, invisible, so you won't see it until you get, like, really close."

"Yes", Imoen added. "And its tongue is all black and as long as your arm."

"But the, like, worst thing", Zaerini said with a small shudder, "is that it makes things, like, rust. Weapons, armor, you name it. It likes precious metals most. Here, I'll show you. Just a minute."

She ran all the way back to camp and dug through her pack until she found as small sword that she'd taken off the body of a gnoll near High Hedge. Somebody had written 'Perdue's Sword' with red crayon on a nametag attached to the hilt. "Sorry Perdue, whoever you are", Rini whispered. Then she poured some of the iron tainting poison she'd found in the Nashkel mines on the sword and watched it rust and crack. She also picked up the wooden sword Imoen had been carving, stuck it inside her belt and then hurriedly returned to Drizzt.

"See", Zaerini said, holding out Perdue's ruined sword. "That is what happens to, like, all the metal that the Rust Monster touches with its antennae, you know. And this is a cursed Rust Monster, so then it kills the people inside the metal." She made a dismayed face. "Oh no!" she cried and willed tears into her eyes. "You can't fight the Rust Monster after all!"

"I, like, can't?" Drizzt said with a puzzled look on his face. "Er…that is…why not?"

"Your swords! Your pretty swords will be, like, ruined. And your pretty armor as well. No, we'd better wait for a Hero strong enough to, like, fight the Rust Monster without stuff like that."

_Oh I see,_ Softpaws remarked. _Make him think what happens next is his own idea._

_Exactly. Let's see if it works._

A series of conflicting emotions warred their way across the Drow's handsome face. Pride won, with stubbornness a close second. "I am certainly a strong enough Hero", he said. "I have an idea. Suppose I leave my armor and scimitars right here in your care while I'm gone."

Rini goggled at him. "What a clever, clever, you know, idea", she said. "You are, like, so smart. But I really don't know if we can, like, take the responsibility."

"Of course, you can", Drizzt said. "Speak no such nonsense. It is hardly a difficult chore to watch over a pile of metal on the ground. I absolutely insist on it, I will not risk my precious gear against yon beast."

"Oh, all right", Rini said and made her dimples show. "If you, like, insist." Then she pulled out the wooden sword. "You'll need some weapon though", she said. "This is the, like, Enchanted Sword Of Rust Monster Slaying. Or it will be, in a minute. Bob was just about to enchant it. Right, Bob?"

"Right", Edwin said with a small smirk. He took the wooden sword and said a few words over it, after which the weapon glowed bright yellow for a moment. "Of course," Edwin said as he handed the thing to Drizzt, "a wooden weapon is sharp, but impervious to rust."

"I knew that", Drizzt said a little huffily as he started removing his armor and strapping off his scimitars. "I'm not stupid you know."

"Of course, you're not", Edwin said in a soothing voice. "Oh, and before I forget. That sword will start glowing again when the Rust Monster is near."

"Its underground lair is about, like, six miles off that way", Rini said and pointed vaguely into the forest. _Now to put him on the defensive_ , she thought. "Hey, wait a minute", she said. "How do I know you won't, like, try to keep our Enchanted Sword?"

"My lady!" Drizzt said in a very insulted voice. "How could you possibly think such a thing? I am, as I said, a Hero, and your weapon shall be returned to you promptly. May the gods strike me dead if I lie!"

"Oh, right", Zaerini said and smiled again. "Sorry. You can't, like, be too careful."

"I quite understand. Villains and scoundrels are numerous in these parts it seems, but I am a gentleman at heart, except when I'm slaughtering the stupid." The Drow then gave the three adventurers a smart salute and marched off into the forest, wooden sword held proudly aloft in front of him. "Fear not!" he cried out. "I shall return presently, and the blood of Drizzt shall not be spilt this day!"

The silence lasted approximately a minute. "Right", Zaerini said in a businesslike voice. "Immy, you can have this sword, I'll take the other one. The armor will fit Khalid, I think. Let's get back to camp and get all our stuff, and then hurry up to find Khalid and Jaheira. We'll tell them that I've foreseen an impending raid by angry Drow in this area. It's even true, in a way. We have to get as far away as possible before that idiot ranger figures out he's been conned. That should take him a few hours. By the way, Eddie, what was that spell you used?"

"That", Edwin said with a wicked smirk, "was a spell to attract mosquitoes. I think some of the blood of Drizzt will get spilt this day after all."


	19. Dark Influences

**In The Cards 19 – Dark Influences**

_If some powerful being offers you power beyond belief in return for you being its 'vessel' you had best remember something very important. To become a vessel, you must first become empty. And vessels often tend to get broken and tossed aside._

_Excerpt from 'Ruminations Of A Master Bard'_

"So, my little sister still lives", Sarevok said in an emotionless voice. The large warrior was standing on top of the Iron Throne building, watching the city of Baldur's Gate spread out before him. So many people down there, scuttling about like busy little ants. So unaware of the meaning of true power. So unaware of the future. The air was heavy and oppressive, dark clouds were gathering. A storm was in the air.

"Yes", Winski Perorate said, having finished checking the wards against eavesdroppers, as he always did when they were about to discuss their 'private project'. "So the reports tell me. Honestly, I don't know what Tazok thinks he's doing, employing all these incompetent assassins. By now I'm sure they've cost us as much as it would have done hiring a good one in the first place." 

"He underestimated her", Sarevok said. For a moment there was an almost admiring glint in his golden eyes, and the faintest hint of humor to his deep voice. "My sister has turned out to be more resourceful than even I expected. It seems her blood is stronger than is outwardly apparent."

"So, you underestimated her too", Winski said, a disapproving look on his face. "I hope you've learned your lesson."

Sarevok's muscles tensed like those of a lion about to leap and he raised his arm as if he were about to strike his old friend and mentor. Then he made a visible effort and the terrible rage faded from his face once more. "Perhaps I did", he admitted. "But no more. The people I've hired now aren't the idiots she's encountered so far. And if even they should fail, then I suppose I shall have to deal with her myself." He paused. "It is what I would prefer, were not all these machinations in the city hindering me. She has earned it, I think. The child of a god shouldn't be slain by mere mortals. No, it should be just the two of us. Brother and sister, together at last, the death of one serving the other. It will happen, Winski. My Father has shown it to me. He has promised me."

"She may be hard to find though. She seems to be constantly on the move. Even my best spells cannot detect her presence with any certainty."

"I will find her", Sarevok assured his mentor. "Or she will find me if she survives long enough. Sooner or later, blood will call out to blood." The unearthly light in his eyes flared once more. "We are two of a kind, though she is by far the weaker. She has felt the dreams, has tasted the bloodlust. She brings chaos along with her, she longs to ride the storms. And the storm is coming, Winski. I can feel it in my bones." A mailed hand pointed at the darkening sky.

"Perhaps", the mage said in a dry voice. "Though I would say that in a thunderstorm a large man in metal armor shouldn't stand about on top of the highest tower in the city."

Sarevok chuckled quietly. "But then, Winski, I am far more than just a man."

_Elsewhere…_

"There's going to be a storm", Zaerini said as she craned her neck backwards to watch the sky. The air was pressing in on her, she felt as if she couldn't breathe properly. But far above in the sky clouds were drawing together, dark clouds about to collide. Lightning and thunder, destruction on a god-like scale. _But afterwards_ , she thought, _afterwards the air will be clear once more._

"So it seems", Edwin said, sounding rather disinterested. "Now, in Thay, the weather wizards would take care of that in no time."

"I'm sure. Now give it a rest, you've been going on about Thay all day."

"I thought you were interested", Edwin said. "You should be if you want to travel there one day. (I'm doing something wrong, aren't I? She has to pay attention! She has to!)"

"Well, I am interested, but you've hardly talked about anything else since this morning. I'm starting to feel like you're about to sell me some lovely swamp land in Surthay."

"I…I don't know what you…"

"Oh, relax Eddie. I was only kidding; I know you wouldn't do that to me. I do trust you, you know."

"I know", Edwin said. He didn't look very happy about it though.

_Probably the weather_ , Zaerini thought. _It seems to have everybody on edge._ She sighed and wiped her face. Her entire body felt sweaty and clammy, her clothes were clinging to her in a very awkward way, and her scalp was itching badly. _I really, really need to wash my hair_ , she thought.

_So go ahead_ , Softpaws said.

_Not by licking it, thanks very much._

_Suit yourself then. Oh look. There are people up ahead._

And so there were. The adventurers were in a mountainous area and nestled against the mountain ahead of them Zaerini could see an old ruin. It was mostly scattered stones in a roughly square shape, but she thought she could see where the walls had once been. Several men walked about the area, some of them poking at the ground but most of them occupied with something near the cliff wall. One of them seemed to be their leader. He was a man in his sixties, white-haired and slightly bent, though still strong and hale. He had a short white beard and sharp dark eyes, off-set by bushy white eyebrows. The sturdy brown garments he wore seemed practical enough, though Rini wondered a little about the hat, which looked rather as if some monster had eaten it and then spat it out again. 

"Put yer backs to those shovels, men!" he cried out in a powerful voice with a slightly slurred accent. "If she's not out tonight we'll lose 'er to the bandito scum! It's not as if my scatter-brained son is here to help run them off. Gallivanting off to search for the Tablets Of Fate, honestly! Sometimes I wonder if he was dropped on his head as a baby." Then he saw the approaching stranger. "You there! State your business, but don't move from where you stand! I don't want to have to sic the boys on you!"

"Whoa!" Imoen said. "Take it easy, we're just passing through. We didn't mean to bother you."

"No? Good then. Sorry for the rough greeting, but it has surely been slow digging with bandits harassing us nightly. Charleston Nib, at your service. Also known as Mr Nib, Tomb Excavator, explorer and history teacher."

"That sounds interesting", Zaerini asked. "I take it that's a tomb you're excavating right over there?"

"Aye", the man said, his eyes glowing fanatically. "You are partially right, though it's not a tomb, but an ancient settlement. It is also all that remains of a primitive race long since extinct, and we know little about their culture save that they seem to have destroyed themselves in war. Perhaps today we will learn something more. We are just about to break through into an inner chamber, perhaps the dwelling of the village shaman himself. Mayhaps you could be of assistance to us? We need but keep the camp secure a short while longer. Your very presence would probably dissuade anyone from attacking us, though I do not know the force behind our misfortune. They seem to take great pleasure in minor sabotage and kidnapping, though some of the missing men may have just run off from fear. Nothing is ever stolen, which is odd for bandits, but they must still be the cause. Will you help us? As I said before, my son, Nib Junior, would normally be here to help me, but he's been detained with a project of his own."

Rini thought about this. The job actually sounded rather interesting, and the group would have to stop to make camp soon anyway. "Sure", she said. "We'll help you, as long as we get paid of course."

The man frowned a little. "We have little to offer, but would 50 gold suffice? It's all we can give, what with having to restock our camp thrice over. Damnable saboteurs! Your mere presence may be enough to discourage our mystery assailants. Are ye up for it? It would only be for a short while."

"All right, I guess. What do you want us to do?"

"Just wait here, I'll let you know when we clear the way to the inner chamber. I thank you for your assistance. And I'd certainly like to hear what kind of excuse Junior has this time for not showing up. Probably another sob story about giant snakes or evil cults…" 

Hardly had the old man walked away before one of the diggers approached. He was a heavyset man with blond hair and an open and honest face. Or at least it looked open and honest. Zaerini thought his smile looked rather fake though. "Why, hello there", he said. "Could we just...step aside a moment and have a little chat away from prying ears?"

"I suppose", Rini said warily and followed him, motioning for her friends to stay behind. "What do you want?"

The man gave her a sideways look, as if he was sizing her up. "First, my name is Gallor. Second, we never had this conversation. I'm the "partner" of that old mister Charleston you met, except I'm none too thrilled about the non-profit aspects of the whole thing. The old man seems to think we should donate all our findings to some museum, whereas I am ever so much more practical. I should think certain people would pay dearly for the magical treasure we are about to unearth, and if they would be so eager, who are we to stand in their way? I would like you to steal the item and "remove" Mr. Nib from my little equation. You up to the task?"

_Yeah, right_ , Rini thought. _As if you'd pay me afterwards. No, I'm not going into partnership with somebody prepared to sell out his current partner. And besides, that Charleston seems like a nice old man. Let's see how much you know though._

"Magical treasure?", the bard asked. "I was under the impression that no one knows what is to be found there. Why are you so sure of its value?"

"Old mister Nib would never admit it, but that is mainly because he doesn't wish to jinx the dig. From what I could decipher in the ancient writings, the final room contains "the plate that provides bounty, leading food unto god." Doesn't take a genius to figure out what that means. Obviously, the item under all that dirt and rubble is enchanted such that it "provides bounty." Whether it's through increased crops or good hunting, I care not. Regardless, an object of that age and enchantment should command a hefty price and I intend to see that it does. You can be a part of it if you wish."

_I bet I could. A part permanently entombed in that dig. Or possibly many parts, randomly scattered about the wilderness by scavengers. I'd almost trust Bhaal himself before you, my friend. Should I kill him right now? It would be satisfying, but I have no proof, and Charleston would think I was a bandit trying to fool him. Perhaps it is better to play this more subtly._

"It's a deal", Zaerini said. "Nib is as good as dead."

"Excellent", Gallor said, rubbing his hands. "But just you make sure you do not attack them until AFTER they have breached the inner sanctum. It's unlikely you could uncover the item without their help. I will meet with you here after the deed to make our exchange. Remember to get everyone! I will be the sole survivor to tell the tale." He returned to his supervision of the dig, whistling cheerfully to himself. 

"What did he want?" Jaheira asked once Zaerini rejoined her friends again: The adventurers were sitting some distance away from the diggers, resting as they waited for the tomb to be breached.

"First you have to promise to keep your voice down", the bard said, wiping at her hot face with the back of her arm.

"Why?"

"Because otherwise you might get us all in trouble."

"He wants us to do something nasty, right?" Imoen asked. 

Zaerini lowered her voice to a near whisper. "He wants us to kill old Nib and steal the magical treasure he thinks is inside that tomb." 

"Magical treasure?" Edwin said. "What is it supposed to be?"

"Who knows. Probably it's nothing."

"W-w-w-we can't k-k-kill an innocent man", Khalid protested.

"I never said we would. But I told Greasy Gallor over there that we would." Then she explained her line of reasoning.

"I do not like it", Jaheira said in a blunt voice. "It is a dangerous game you play, child."

"But those are the games with the highest stakes", Edwin said. "I agree that we should not help this Gallor. (Though I might have seen things differently hadn't we already given our word to Nib. Yes, very differently indeed.)"

_And so might I have done_ , Zaerini thought. The thought was a shocking one, but she recognized the truth of it. _If Gallor had been more likable, if he'd presented his plan in a more subtle manner, less obviously greedy… Yes. I might have agreed to it. I am good at killing, after all. And…I can't pretend I don't like that, though it frightens me at times. It keeps me alive after all, this skill of mine. It has saved me more than once. I cannot turn my back on it and walk away, it's a part of who I am._

A voice whispered to the half-elf, a sibilant voice on the edge of her mind. YES, MY DAUGHTER. YOU SEE, DON'T YOU? EMBRACE YOUR NATURE, REVEL IN IT. IT WILL BRING YOU POWER, YOU KNOW THAT.

_I am not yours, 'Father'_ Zaerini thought defiantly, struggling to keep the malevolent voice at bay. _I am my own, and I will remain free._

YOU WILL NEVER BE FREE OF ME. YOU ARE TOO GOOD A KILLER, MY DAUGHTER. JUST…LIKE YOUR DEAR BROTHER.

_I am, aren't I?_ Zaerini thought. _But then again, I am not like him. You've conned him into trusting you, you've sold him hay and fooled him into believing it's pure gold. Maybe he wanted to be conned, somehow. But I don't, and I recognize a scam when I see one. This girl isn't buying your 'Genuine Elixir Of Power'. I've drunk enough badly spiced wine already, thank you. I'm not paying for it with my soul._

YOUR SOUL? The voice was raging now. YOU HAVE NO SOUL! YOU ARE A CONSTRUCT, MY CREATION MADE TO SERVE ME. I AM ALL YOU EVER HAD IN LIFE! NOW COME TO ME! 

_But you're wrong. You're not all I ever had. I…had Gorion. And were I what you say, he never would have loved me as I know he did. I know he loved me. I know. I…remember._

The presence of Bhaal faded and retreated, became a muted whisper in the back of her skull once more. "Gorion…" Zaerini whispered. "He did love me…"

"Of course, he did", Jaheira said and gave the bard a strange look. "Are you feeling ill?"

Zaerini shook her head. "It is nothing. It's just…this weather. I wish the storm would come soon and be done with it. I can't stand this clammy heat."

"Well, we are going inside the tomb now", Jaheira said. "Nib and his men have opened the entrance. Perhaps you will feel better once inside."

The tomb turned out to be more of a series of caves, none of them very cheerful. There were remnants of old fireplaces on the ground, old tools here and there. The walls were covered with paintings, paintings of strange symbols. Some of them were recognizable as people or animals, suns or lightning bolts. Others were just…strange. If you looked at them too long your eyes started to hurt, and then you could almost imagine them moving about, looking back at you. The air was stale and still, and Rini was really starting to get a headache.

Charleston led the adventurers through the caves, talking all the way. "Just through here", he said excitedly. "I believe it is the shaman's quarters. Finally, we will find out what these people were like." 

Zaerini's headache was getting worse and her chest felt heavy, constricted. She noticed a stone sarcophagus on the floor of this final room. There was a skeleton next to it, lying on the ground with its hand stretched out as if in supplication. The diggers who had come into the cave with them were also starting to look uneasy. 

"Hey, boss", one of them said. "I'm not feeling so good. Are you sure the air in here is all right?" He was sweating heavily, and his eyes were getting glassy. Zaerini just had time to wonder if the man was ill when his back suddenly straightened, and he faced her with a maniacal smile on his face. "KOZAH A PLET 'DAR CASS TOGLAH!!" he screamed. "KOZAH!!"

Other diggers raised equally hoarse voices, turned towards the sarcophagus and bowed to it. Their eyes were as empty as the words of Bhaal, Zaerini thought. Empty and hollow. "KOZAH A PLET 'DAR CASS TOGLAH!! KOZAH!!" Their voices were as one. "Q' AL TE-PAH KOZAH! SHE CAL KOZAH!"

Zaerini didn't understand the voices, but then it wasn't really necessary. The diggers turned like puppets manipulated by an unseen hand, they moved towards her with jerking, shambling movements, they raised spears above their heads. No time to think. No time to wonder about right or wrong. No time to do other than survive. Her sword was in her hand, gleaming coldly in the dark cave. And she let the sword speak, fighting equally hard to suppress the memory of her sire's voice. KILLER. DAUGHTER. KILLER.

When it was over the possessed men lay dead. Zaerini hoped they hadn't suffered too much. After all, it wasn't really they who had wanted to kill her.

"Awful", Charleston Nib muttered. "Simply awful." He gently pulled open the stone sarcophagus and pulled something out. It was a small idol, squat and ugly. "I...I think I can explain the madness that overcame my men", he said. "They seemed to scream in some ancient tongue, but I recognize the word "Kozah." It's the name of an ancient power; the name of a god of pandemonium. The tribe that lived here must have worshipped Kozah and the destruction he brought. The artifact that lies within this stone sarcophagus must be what has caused all of this bloodshed. Surely that artifact is cursed beyond belief! We should let it lie within this tomb forever. It's best that it never sees the light of day." With those words he replaced the idol.

"I have heard about Kozah the Stormstar as well", Edwin said. "An ancient god of storm, strife and rebellion who was worshipped by the ancient Netherese. His worship was forbidden, and his temples were often hidden, like this one."

_More dead gods_ , Zaerini thought. _As if one wasn't bad enough_. "Let's get out of here", she said. "I don't know about the rest of you, but I don't like the looks of this 'Kozah' much." 

Rini walked out of the room without looking back and hurriedly made her way back to the surface. _Those men were…swallowed_ , she thought. _Used by that ancient power, spat out and discarded. As simple as that. As simple as what Bhaal would like to do to me. As simple as what he's done to Sarevok, I think. He may think he's 'embraced' our sire's power. I…think he's surrendered to it._

Zaerini's musings were interrupted as she emerged from the cave. The sky was really dark by now and she could hear the first sound of thunder. That wasn't really what bothered her though. Gallor stood there, a triumphant smile on his face, and he was pointing a crossbow directly at her. "So, you betrayed me!" he said. "I should have known better than to trust a half-breed. I'll take the idol off your corpse then." And then he yelped as the crossbow flew out of his suddenly skinned and bleeding hand. A very small boy stood behind him, holding a very large slingshot. 

"Don't you touch that idol!" he piped up. "It belongs in a museum."

"Actually, Junior", Charleston said, "I think it had better stay right where it is." He smartly rapped the whimpering Gallor over the head with his cane and the treacherous man subsided into an unconscious heap on the ground. "Did you have a good trip?"

"Yes, sir."

"I really could have used you to help with those bandits though."

"Sorry, sir."

"You should be. Now come on. I hear there's this ancient city supposedly hidden near Baldur's Gate…"

"Hey, cool!"

"Here you go", Nib said and handed Zaerini her payment. "50 gold, as promised. I must say, you have the makings of a fine tomb excavator, dear girl. Perhaps we'll meet you again." He walked off into the forest, his son following closely. Lightning bolts were trailing jagged blue light across the sky now, and thunder rumbled closely overhead.

"I don't know about this", Imoen said. "Looks like a really bad storm. "Shouldn't we go back inside after all?"

"In there?" Rini asked. "With all those corpses and that idol close by. No way. We're much safer out he…" 

She interrupted herself at the sound of a booming shout. "IthNal cOR dan osa KOZAH! Rrrackne dall'a osa KOZAH!" A large armored warrior strode towards the warriors and for one insane moment Rini thought it was Sarevok, though his form was strangely blurred and unclear. But this armor wasn't spiky enough, and Sarevok's sword, while frightening, hadn't been on fire. _Wonderful_ she thought. _Good old Kozah again._

"What do you want?" Jaheira asked in an admirably calm voice. "I cannot understand you."

"Nottt for theeee to underssstand...", the apparition stated. "Neeeed only dieeee while youuu hold...idolll does soo commannnnd...Eltor anSle osa KOZAH!" It swung its flaming sword wildly at Khalid who only narrowly managed to dodge it.

"The sword!" Imoen cried out as she fired an arrow. "It's transparent! I think it's not really real." It was real enough though. Edwin had summoned up a group of Xvarts and the small blue men were rapidly getting hacked to pieces. They did help keep the ghostly warrior away though. And then Jaheira cast a spell that made the flaming sword flicker white for a moment before it faded like an extinguished candle. The warrior roared as his shape suddenly became easier to see than before, and a violent blow of his mailed fist hit the druid in the ribs and sent her flying. Zaerini was casting spells as rapidly as she could, acid arrows that made the creature roar with pain, but she didn't have many left. Finally, Khalid, by now battered and bloody, managed to pierce the armor between neck and helmet. A violent red light flared up against the spectral warrior and it faded into nothingness with a final scream of "KOZAH! The idolllll……"

For a few seconds the adventurers just looked at each other, grateful that they were all alive. Jaheira winced slightly as she touched her side and Zaerini knew that the druid had to be in great pain. Imoen shivered. "But I don't understand", the pink-haired thief said. "That…that thing…it was after the idol, wasn't it? But we left it in the cave, so why would it go after us?"

"I don't know", Zaerini said slowly. Then a thought struck her and for a moment her eyes burned hot with golden fire. Then it subsided back into a dangerous glimmer. "Unless… unless somebody picked it **up** again. Oh, Edwin… You were the last one out, weren't you? Would you happen to know something about this, perhaps? Did you see who did this?"

"Er…" Edwin said. He had a suspiciously innocent look on his face, and it suited him about as well as a fluffy feather boa would have done. "I have no idea what you are talking about. (I certainly have no particular interest in moldy old Netherese idols. Not me.)"

"Oh really?" Rini was baring her teeth now in something that almost, but not quite, was a smile. "Then you won't mind handing it over to me, will you? Or do you want me to do a full body search?"

"Actually…"

"Better yet", the bard said. "I think I might let Jaheira do it. You don't mind, do you Jaheira?"

The druid cracked her knuckles and gave Edwin an ominous glare. "It would be my pleasure" she said. 

Edwin paled a little. "Oh, all right", he said sullenly. "Take it then. (It is probably out of power by now anyway.)" He handed Zaerini the ugly idol.

"How kind", the redheaded half-elf said in a sarcastic voice. "If you've got any other cursed items that might suddenly summon undead warriors into existence, I suggest telling us all about it now rather than later. No?" She violently threw the idol into the cave and was satisfied to hear it bounce down the stairs. "Take that Kozah!" she cried out. "I'm nobody's servant!" Then she fired her lightning wand at the rocks above the entrance and was satisfied to see a large heap of boulders crash down to block the opening. "And that", she said, "is what I think of dead old gods. They're much better off buried."

_Deep within the Wood of Sharp Teeth…._

"You there! You think you **are** someone, don't you?" The voice was harsh, aggressive and insistent. Clearly the speaker didn't really care whether the answer to his question was 'yes' or 'no'. He was spoiling for a fight and wouldn't settle for anything else.

_Oh well_ , Dekaras thought. _It had to happen sooner or later. Might as well get it over and done with._ The assassin turned around slowly and regarded the man who had addressed him with a sense of mild curiosity. The bandit was a rather typical specimen. Fairly large and brawny, not particularly bright. This was a minor bully, not one of the true bandit leaders. He probably could be vicious in a fight, but in a random, disorganized way. 

"Certainly, I think I am someone", Dekaras calmly stated. "Everybody is. For example, you are an idiot with the approximate intelligence of a mindflayer's latest meal, and you smell like a Tanar'ri's unwashed armpit. On the positive side, you are also a rare freak of nature. I have never before seen a man able to walk backwards on his hands and project his voice so that it seemed to emerge from his nether regions. That is certainly an extraordinary talent. Oh, wait. My mistake. That is your mouth after all and not your…posterior orifice. And I suppose that means **that** is your face. My sincere condolences." 

The bandit's mouth opened and closed soundlessly for a few moments as he worked his way through this. Then his face turned a reddish purple with rage, and he drew his sword. "You…you're calling me a…a…BUTTFACE?"

"That was the essence of it, yes. Whereas I, of course, am the person who is about ten seconds away from teaching you more than you ever wished to know about the sad frailty of the human condition. Unless you'd like to change your mind and walk away right now."

The bandit, whose name was Rarhk, wasn't very interested in this. He ran at his enemy, sword waving and spittle flying. Like most of his peers he relied heavily on the advantage of numbers when fighting. In a one-on-one affair his strength and brutal ferociousness usually served him well enough, but he didn't possess much technical skill. So, he charged like a maddened bull at the taunting voice in front of him, almost blind with rage, planning to use his bulk and wider reach to make short work of his lighter enemy. Alas, his sword whistled impotently through empty air, and then there was a searing pain in his belly, a pain like nothing he had ever felt before. The sword fell to the ground, forgotten. There was a hole in his tunic, a large hole. Blood against his fingers as he pressed both his hands against the hole, hot blood. And…other things. Protruding, slimy things like a wriggling nest of serpents trying to break free. Was it the snakes who were biting him, he wondered? Was it they who were making him whimper with excruciating pain?

"What…", Rarhk moaned. "What?"

"Judging by the color, texture and length I'd say it's your upper intestine", Dekaras said in a dispassionate voice, his black eyes as expressionless as those of a serpent as he watched the mortally wounded bandit. There was a wet noise as something landed on the ground. "Yes, definitely so. Do be careful not to…" The bandit stumbled and a scream that sounded inhuman in its agony tore through the air. "…trip over it", the assassin finished the sentence. He hastily moved forward, cutting the dying man's throat before he could scream again. Then he turned his head to blast the watching bandits with an icy glare. "Funny how few are wise enough to walk away", he said. "So. Does anybody else require a lesson in practical anatomy or are we quite finished with these childish antics?"

Most of the bandits looked pale and wary, some even seemed ready to soil themselves as they met the calm gaze of the assassin. A few looked genuinely approving though, and those were the ones that really disgusted him. He much preferred to deliver a clean kill if possible. At this moment that was not the most practical approach though. These men respected strength and viciousness above anything else, and that was what would make an impression with them. By making this one death as bloody as possible he would scare enough of them off that he would not have to spend much time on petty little challenges for dominance like this one. However, he also needed to establish that these little caravan-robbers would be safe enough if they behaved themselves. He did not want them to decide to gang up on him after all. 

"I trust you are all able to learn from the sad mistakes of others", Dekaras said, now lowering his voice to a soft drawl. "Do so, remember your manners, and we shall all get along just fine. If not, well let us just say that I don't take kindly to provocation. Does anybody have any questions?" 

Some of the bandits shook their heads in mute fear, others hastily muttered their negations. Eventually they all drifted off. All of them but one. Dekaras knew him by sight. His name was Raiken, and he was sub-commander of half the Black Talon forces. His counterpart's name was Teven, and by all accounts the two men were fierce rivals. They probably would have liked nothing better than fighting each other to the death if it hadn't been for the leader of the Talons, Taugosz Khosann, also known as Taugosz Tenhammer. A hard and hot-tempered man, Taugosz would tolerate fights between the ordinary bandits as means of relieving tension and 'culling the herd' of all but the hardiest, but he wouldn't stand for his two lieutenants openly going for each other’s throats. 

So Raiken and Teven had found other ways of competing, and constantly attempted to outshine each other, whether it came to raiding, looting, recruiting, gambling or drinking each other under the table. Tension ran high in the bandit camp due to this, and then there were the hobgoblins. Fierce marauders calling themselves 'the Chill', they stayed in a separate part of the camp, away from the others. Dekaras was planning to take a closer look at them later once he was firmly established among the Talons. That task still was not complete though.

"I was watching that", Raiken said. He was a lean man with a leathery face and sun-bleached hair like thinning straw. His voice was slow and steady, but as he spoke, he constantly fingered the hilt of his sword, a sign that he wasn't quite as confident as he would like to seem. "Impressive. Most impressive."

Dekaras made a point of carefully cleaning and sheathing his own shortsword before answering. "My thanks", he said in a neutral voice. "I thought it a rather pointless little squabble, myself."

"Oh? Then I would really like to see you in a disagreement where you are emotionally involved."

_Trust me, you wouldn't. You really wouldn't._ The assassin gave the Black Talon a look of polite disinterest but said nothing. After a moment, the other man looked slightly uncomfortable. 

"I have seen you around before", Raiken said, "but I don't believe I know your name."

"Adahn", Dekaras said, having selected the alias previously as easy on the tongue and suitably neutral in flavor. 

"Adahn? What else?"

The assassin smiled thinly. "What else do you need? One name is good enough for me, and ought to be so for anybody else as well."

Raiken chuckled quietly to himself. "Very well, Adahn. I like your style. And you certainly have made an impression with the lads. Now tell me, who was it that recruited you? Taugosz himself? That dirty little rat Teven? Or one of the…higher ups?" 

_Higher ups_ , Dekaras thought. _Interesting. This Tazok that Edwin mentioned would be one of them, I assume. I will have to find out more about this later_. Out loud he simply said, "Who do you suppose?" and favored Raiken with a meaningful glance.

"Then it was that bastard Teven!" Raiken exclaimed and angrily slammed his fist into his hand. "Trust him to bag one of the most promising recruits I've seen in a long while, the dirty sneaking scumbag!" Then he lowered his voice into a companionable whisper. "Tell you what, my friend. I have a profitable suggestion for you. It would suit my…aspirations…to let Tenhammer assume certain things. It may happen that you hear my name mentioned rather than Teven's as the one who…discovered you. Just keep silent on the subject and you will find that I can be a grateful man to those who aid me." He surreptitiously showed the assassin a small purse and shook it to make it jingle merrily. 

Dekaras smiled inwardly. He had hoped for something like this, though he hadn't dared fully count on it. "Why not?" he said and accepted the money. "It doesn't sound like a particularly difficult task. You may trust me not to gainsay you."

Raiken gave him a feral grin. "Excellent!" he said. "I thought you seemed like a clever man. I shall be happy to see more of you in the future." He nodded and walked off, looking very satisfied with himself.

The sun was climbing higher by the minute and noon was approaching. Many of the bandits had already headed off to get their midday meal, or else where resting in their tents. There had been a large raid a couple of days previously, and the men were enjoying the spoils of their victory. Dekaras wasn't quite ready to follow their example though. During his conversation with Raiken he had thought he had glimpsed a shadow where none should have been, a presence at the corner of his eye, though too far away to listen in on what was said. If he were correct in his assumption the watcher would make himself known soon, one way or another. The assassin lazily strolled towards the spot where the man was hiding. "Yes?" he politely asked once he was close enough. "You wanted to see me about something?"

There was a brief gasp and then the watcher caught himself. "Aye", Teven said. "So I did." Teven was a small man, and with his twitchy face and beady little eyes he did bear a certain resemblance to a rat. He was still a dangerous opponent though, compensating for his small size with speed and agility. "I been watchin' ye", he said. 

"So I gathered", Dekaras said in a thoughtful voice, tapping a long finger against his lower lip. "And what did you see, pray tell?"

"I seen a fella smart enough to know what's good for 'im and to know which way the wind's ablowin'." Teven gave the assassin a sidelong look. "What's yer name, eh? Are ye…close friends with tha' dirty rotter Raiken, then?"

"I barely know him", Dekaras answered, quite truthfully. "And you may call me Adahn."

"Oh, aye? And are ye tellin' me he's nay the one that recruited ye into the Talons?"

"You have a right to your own opinions", Dekaras said and made himself look a trifle bored.

"Oh, so it **was** him then. As I thought. I know me business. But somethin' tells me his claim on ye ain't that strong… Here's the deal then, an' a sweeter one ye'll never find. Ye're good at killin', a blind mole could tell that. Taugosz will like ye, I think. Jus' pretend to be deaf an' dumb when ye hears me tell 'im about hirin' ye, an' ye will nay regret it." He smiled slyly and produced a bag of coins that he shook to make it clink.

"I suppose that could be arranged", Dekaras said and accepted the bribe, forcing himself to maintain a neutral expression despite the humorous nature of the situation. "I'm not above easy work."

"Good on ye!" Teven said and heartily shook the other man's hand. "'tis all settled then. Raiken will be mad enough to choke, the filthy sod…" He was still chortling happily as he disappeared around a corner.

_What an interesting turn of events_ , Dekaras thought to himself. _Next I'll probably be hired by the Chill_. He smiled to himself. Everything was working out perfectly so far. Raiken and Teven now both believed themselves to have lured him away from the service of the other. In the event of an argument they would both call the other a liar, while both assuming themselves to be the one at fault. He had hoped that their legendary rivalry would be enough to goad them both into this, and apparently, he had been right. That meant he could safely leave them both alive for now and continue to play them against each other if necessary. His position among the bandits was reasonably secure for the time being. Now to start taking full advantage of it.

-*-

It was midday when the party came upon the caravan. The sun was high in the sky and the air was still, making the buzzing of the flies all the more audible. The smell hit Zaerini's nostrils at about the same time. The smell of rotting flesh, putrid and stinking, it was enough to make her eyes water.

"What is that?" Imoen asked as she pressed a handkerchief to her nose to keep from gagging. "It smells like…like…"

"Death", Edwin said and pointed at something on the ground. A broken wagon wheel, mute witness of some terrible occurrence. "I'd say we've found one of those missing caravans."

"You have", said a strange voice from behind a tree. A woman stepped into the sunlight and gave the adventurer's a wary look. It was hard to determine her age. She might be only thirty or so, but her hair was white, and she looked weighted down with some terrible grief. Her eyes were pleading and desperate, but without true hope.

"Who are you?" Jaheira asked. "And what have you to do with this?"

"Nothing", the woman said. A spasm of pain crossed her face. "Nothing, except having seen the full horror of it, too late to do anything about it. I am Laryssa, if my name matters among all this needless bloodshed. Death walks close by, and it wears my dear cousin's face." Her face twisted with unwanted remembrance, and she wrung her hands. "Please, I beg of you to go no further! Brage is there, strewn about with the carnage he has wrought. I have tried to reason with him, but it is as if he is possessed by another's soul. It was all I could do to flee the swing of his tremendous blade. Please, unless you wish to witness madness in a once-good man, leave him be and pray the spirit leaves him in good time."

"Brage?" Zaerini asked. "The Captain of the Nashkel Guard?"

"Aye", Laryssa said. "Before this curse befell him, he was Captain of the Guard in Nashkel. I am his cousin, Laryssa. For all the bonds of love and blood, save him from his present agony if there be a way to do so."

"How can you defend this man, cousin or not?" Jaheira asked with a dismissive shake of her head. "We have heard of what he did. Did he not slaughter his entire family, wife and children both? Such are the actions of a monster, not a human being!"

"My cousin is no monster!" Laryssa angrily protested. "He is still a man, but a man insane. He would never have done such a thing had he been himself. He loved his wife; he loved his children. He was a good man, a strong man. Never would he murder his own family or harmless travelers like this were he not under some dark influence." She paused, and tears came into her eyes. "I hate the things that he has done", she said in a quiet voice. "But he is my cousin, who was always as close to me as a brother. I hate his actions, but I still love him. I beg of you, do not harm him."

Zaerini looked at the woman. Laryssa seemed perfectly sincere, and the bard felt touched by her sorrow. _Dark influence_ , she thought. _At least I know what that feels like. And she truly loves him._

"I will try", she said. "But I can promise you nothing. If it becomes necessary, I'm going to have to defend myself."

"I understand", Laryssa said and bowed her head. "I…will wait here. Please, just…just try."

The stench of death grew stronger as the adventurers pressed on through the forest, as did the buzzing of the flies. Eventually they emerged into a clearing and were greeted by a terrible sight. Wagons broken on the ground, goods carelessly tossed about, they were the least of it. The corpses were everywhere. A dead horse lay close by, its dark coat covered with blood. Its mouth was still open in a silent scream. Flies crawled all over it, a black and buzzing cloud. And then Rini turned her head and saw the other, smaller bodies. _Humans_ , she thought. Men, women, even children. Not that it was very easy to tell which was which anymore. Their bodies…their bodies were…in…in pieces. Many pieces.

Rini found herself staring, unable to look away, unable to focus her thought. Wild, disjointed images burned themselves into her brain. Blood. So much blood. It was everywhere. Something round on the ground, something that might have been a rock but wasn't. Flies covering it like a crawling black beard, broken eyes staring sightlessly into the glaring light of the sun. A woman's arm, stretched out as if in supplication, fingers reaching for the sky. _Where is the rest of her?_ And then the smallest bodies, the ones that were the worst to look at. 

Behind her Zaerini could hear Imoen vomiting noisily onto the ground, Khalid stammering words of comfort in a terrified voice. "Sil-Silvanus preserve their souls", Jaheira whispered, and there was true horror in the druid's voice as she saw the carnage.

"Senseless", Edwin whispered. "The man must be truly insane to take pleasure in such random slaughter. We must be prepared to kill him quickly; he will likely be extremely dangerous."

Zaerini didn't answer. The buzzing of the flies resembled the voice of Bhaal, gorging on the dead, getting fat and bloated on their suffering. Reveling in it. The image of Gorion came back to her, lying on blood-soaked ground in a forest so similar to this one, cut down like these people had been as he tried to defend her. As these dead had tried to defend their children, tried and failed. She heard a soft noise, and knew that it was herself, moaning quietly. So easy to give in to the hate, so easy to let it bloom into mindless rage. 

_Steady kitten_ , Softpaws warned. The black cat twined herself around the half-elf's legs and watched her with unwavering green eyes. _The way to trap a rabid beast is not to become one. You must keep control of yourself if you wish to overcome your father's killer._

_I…know. But it is hard. So hard._

_I am here to help you, kitten. Always._

And then he came. Brage strode out of the forest, sword in hand and stopped dead as he saw the adventurers. He was a tall man, strong and powerful, with fair hair and a rather handsome face. The sword he carried was a beautiful one, very large and decorated with red stones at the hilt. The blade glittered coldly as the sun reflected off it, but not as coldly as the Guard Captain's ice-blue eyes. They were empty those eyes, hard and shallow like precious stones. And yet…not entirely empty. There was something beneath the surface, Zaerini thought. Some remnant of frantic emotion, like a man trapped behind a thick sheet of glass, unable to speak, unable to move. 

"Greetings, playthings", Brage said in a melodious voice. "You have found me…where I alone could not."

"Oh, lovely", Edwin said. "Another madman. Listen, Mr-Armed-and-dangerous, why don't you just drop the sword? Or do you want me to tell my invisible army of dragons to fry you to a crisp, you soft-brained child-killer? (A flame arrow up his nose sounds lovely too, but I'm sure there isn't much brain left to damage.)"

Brage ignored him and focused on the red-haired half-elf. "I pray you left a trail of crumbs to lead us all back again", he said. "The others did not, so they have decided to stay. Shall we try to find the way home together? I pose to you a riddle, the answer to which I once knew, but now cannot perceive. Remind me, and we shall all return unto the day. Fail, and stay with me in the dark, forgetting whence we came.... " That faint hint of desperation in his eyes grew as he spoke. "It has neither mouth, nor teeth", Brage went on. "Yet, it eats its food steadily. It has neither village, nor home, nor hands, nor feet; yet it wanders everywhere. It has neither country, nor means, nor office, nor pen; yet it is ready for fight - always. By day and by night there is wailing about it. It has no breath, yet to all it appears."

Zaerini didn't doubt for a second that he would try to kill her if she gave the wrong answer or refused to try. Fortunately, she had always been good with riddles and puzzles, and the answer to this one was right in front of her, as well as her constant companion and the subject of her darkest thoughts. "Death", she said. "The answer is 'death'."

Brage's face convulsed with violent tremors, like a mask about to crack. "I…am myself again", he whispered. "I…I am…" His eyes took in the destruction around him, the sad remains on the ground, and the sword fell from his nerveless and shaking fingers. "No", he whispered, and now it seemed that he was seeing not what was in front of him but some horror of another time and place. "No…NOOOOOOO!" The scream was heart-wrenching, the sound of a soul in torment, a soul longing for oblivion. "My own children", Brage sobbed, tears streaming down his face. "My beloved wife…all these other innocents. I did that. ME! The…the voice in my head, it called to me…and I listened. Helm help me, I listened to it!" His shoulder shook violently as he buried his head in his hands, sobs torn raw and bleeding from the bottom of his heart.

_It would be so easy to kill him now_ , Rini thought. _No doubt many would thank me. But…I can't._

" I will welcome the block that must await me at Nashkel!" Brage said in a dead, hollow voice. "How could I live with what I've done! Please, you must guide me to the town that I might pay for my crimes! I fear I can keep my senses for only so long, and I must not be allowed to do this again! Too many good people have lost their lives to me! Please..." He started sobbing again, but this time no sound emerged from his lips. He was simply shaking with quiet agony.

"No", Zaerini said and stepped up to the crying man, putting her hand on his shoulder. "You will come with us, yes. But I will not give you over to be hanged. There may be healing to be had for you in the temple."

"Child, be careful", Jaheira warned. "He is dangerous, he may turn on you any moment."

"I don't think so", Rini said. She watched Brage's sword. There was a dark miasma around it, almost invisible unless you suspected its presence. A curse, a curse strong enough to make a man turn his back on himself and destroy everything he ever loved, destroying himself in the process. "It was the sword, not all him. There is a curse on it, a strong one. It used him to kill all those people. It might have happened to anybody." She turned to the Guard Captain again. "Do you understand?" she asked. "I would kill you if you were still a threat. But I don't think you are."

Brage's face was puzzled and confused. "But…I deserve to die for what I've done. Why…why would you do this? Why should you care so about my fate?"

The half-elf was silent for a moment. "Because", she said. "Because I know what it's like to be under a curse, to have an alien presence goading me on. Because I know what it is like to know the darkness of your own soul and to love and hate it at the same time."

"I…I do wish to atone for my actions. But how can I, if I live?"

Zaerini gave him a small smile. "How can you, if you're dead? I can't make you stay alive of course, but I ask you to, all the same. Think of it as your payment if you will, my price for freeing you. Or as a favor if you so prefer. A favor to one of your own kind whose curse will be less easily lifted. And a favor to your cousin who still loves you."

"Laryssa? She…is here?"

"I am." Laryssa came up from behind, her attention totally focused on her cousin. "I am sorry", she told Zaerini. "I could not stand to remain behind. I had to see for myself what happened." Then she walked up to her cousin and put her arms around him. "You are back", she said in a quiet voice. "I hardly dare believe it."

Brage tried to pull away. "Laryssa, don't. You…you don't know what I did."

Laryssa took his head between her hands and looked him straight in the eyes. "But I do", she said. "I know you were overcome by a curse, and I know what that curse made you do."

"Then how can you still claim to love me? How can you even bare to touch me? I don't deserve your love."

The white-haired woman smiled. "Oh, my cousin. You really don't understand. Love doesn't obey the laws of humans, and it doesn't care about who 'deserves' it. I still love you like a brother despite the terrible things you did. Now come with us to the temple to make your atonement, and one day you may even be able to love yourself again."

_Do you still hate this man, kitten?_ Softpaws asked in a curious voice.

_No. No, I don't. How can I? It might as well have been me_. The half-elf's face turned solemn. In her mind's eye she saw the flash of a large sword, golden eyes glowing with hate and rage. _It…might as well have been me._


	20. Firewine Bridge

**In The Cards 20 - Firewine Bridge**

_Magic may look easy, but there are all sorts of ways for spells to go wrong. Sometimes humorously, sometimes fatally. Of course, practice makes perfect, and the right study partner can do wonders…_

_Excerpt from 'Ruminations Of A Master Bard'_

"No, no, no, no, NO! It's pronounced Ego Refl **ec** tus. You're saying it all wrong."

"No, I'm not", Zaerini protested and gave Edwin an insulted glare. 

"Yes, you are. And you're flailing your arms about like a drunken weather-mill as well. Spellcasting is supposed to be a subtle art, you know. Go ahead, try again. (She'll drive me insane. I know it. How anybody could have the inhuman patience to do this tutoring stuff for years, without choosing to jump off a cliff or run off to herd feral goats instead is quite beyond me. Goats would probably be more attentive, in fact.)"

Zaerini gritted her teeth and reached for her bags of spell components. Having Edwin help her improve her magic had seemed like a good idea at first. The Red Wizard was, after all, good at what he did. What she hadn't counted on was the fact that he wasn't really very good at transmitting his own knowledge to others. He knew when something worked, and he knew when it didn't, but he was frequently unable to explain what exactly she did wrong, and he got impatient when she told him so. This was one of those times.

The adventurers had delivered Brage to the temple in Nashkel some days previously and had started on their trek north towards the Wood of Sharp Teeth. Rini intended to check out a couple of interesting landmarks on the way and then see what she could do about the bandits. Working on her magic skills during their rest stops had been her own suggestion, so she and the wizard had gone apart from the others to get some studying done. She'd thought it would be fun, but after failing to cast her new Mirror Image spell for the fifth time and being forced to listen to Edwin's 'humorous' commentary about it all the while, she was about ready to ram her spell-book down his throat if only it would help shut him up. 

"Ego Reflectus!" Zaerini snarled and waved her hand as she tossed a small quantity of sparkling white sand into the air. She grinned as she felt the tingle of magic flowing through her arms. Then the grin faltered as she saw those arms. All six of them. The spell had failed again. Instead of creating identical mirror copies of her it had simply replicated her arms, and now she had three on each side, completely identical. Four of them were mere illusions, but they moved in perfect time with her real ones, making her feel quite dizzy.

"Well", Edwin said with an amused smirk. "I've never seen that before. My dear, useful as turning into a marilith could no doubt be, I really wouldn't recommend trying it in a more public place than this. People might stare. (Then again, they do have this interesting way of dressing, or rather not dressing…)"

Rini's yellow eyes narrowed. The wizard looked incredibly smug and satisfied with himself, and she thought it high time to wipe said smugness off that handsome face. And she knew just the way to do it too. "I wouldn't say such things if I were you", the half-elf purred and flexed her fingers, creating an unsettling impression. No, he'd have no way of telling which hands were real. Perfect. The fake ones even felt real.

"No? Why ever not?"

"Because I might just decide to do to you what I've done more than once to Immy when she was being a pest. Are you going to be nice and stop teasing me?"

"Hardly. I'm a Red Wizard, you know. I don't do 'nice'. And besides, I'm having much too much fun."

"Fine. Suit yourself. Then I think it's way past time you got closer acquainted with the Infamous Tickle Torture Of Candlekeep. Prepare to meet thy Doom!" Without further preliminaries the bard pounced on the wizard, tickling him mercilessly. The effect was made all that much greater by all the extra hands. Edwin had about ten seconds of looking alarmed before he was on his back on the ground, giggling and chortling, completely out of control.

"No!" he panted. "Stop…hee…it! I…Ha Ha Ha…can't…* snort * breathe…"

"I don't think so", Rini said. She was sitting on him by now to pin him down. "I'm having much too much fun."

"All… * chuckle * right! I'm…He He…sorry! Now quit it, I can't… Ha Ha…breathe…"

Finally deciding he had suffered enough Zaerini ceased her attacks. All of the extra arms had evaporated by now and she was feeling more than a little exhausted herself after the tussle. With a feeling of boneless weariness, she collapsed on top of the wizard's prone body, their noses almost close enough to be touching. He had really nice eyes, she couldn't help but notice, not for the first time. Deep and dark, almost black. She suddenly felt strangely dizzy, as if she were about to fall into them and not be able to climb back out. She must have exerted herself more than she'd meant to.

"So", the bard breathed and blew a lock of red hair out of her eyes. "Changed your mind about being nice to me yet?"

"Er…", Edwin said, sounding rather breathless. "I…"

The prickling sensation of eyes boring into her back made Zaerini turn her head. Slowly, ever so slowly, her eyes traveled upwards, dreading what they might see. A pair of legs in green leggings, planted wide apart with one foot tapping impatiently against the ground. Leather armor. Arms firmly crossed over the chest. Golden hair, the color of a lion’s fur, just touching the strong shoulders. A firm and strong-featured half-elven face, set in a stony glare, with cool green eyes shooting daggers at the pair on the ground.

"Er…Hello Jaheira", Rini said with a weak smile. Beneath her Edwin made a strangled noise in the back of his throat as he too noticed the druid.

"Hello, children", Jaheira said in an expressionless voice. "And what, may I ask, are the two of you up to?"

"Er…", Rini said, her mind frantically racing around in circles like a decapitated hen. "We're…uh…studying. Yep, that's it. Studying."

"Studying."

"Uh huh."

"Yes", Edwin blurted out. "That's it. Of course. We…we were in the middle of some very delicate casting here; I'll have you know. In fact, you're lucky you didn't interrupt us a little earlier or…or the energies unleashed might well have torn you to pieces. (Good one. That should do it.)

"Is that so?" Jaheira said, the hint of an amused smile playing around the corners of her full mouth. "Well, if that was a typical Thayvian study session I think it was a good thing I did not interrupt you a little later, or somebody would certainly have been torn to pieces." She patted the hilt of her scimitar. "I came to tell our fearless leader that I think we should be moving on. It is starting to get late, but if we start now, we can still reach Firewine Bridge before nightfall." She turned to walk off, and as she did Zaerini could almost swear she heard the druid laugh quietly to herself and mutter something that sounded suspiciously like 'studying'.

Three interesting old ruins lay on the way between Nashkel and Beregost, ruins with names that Rini had been fascinated by since early childhood. Since she was in the area anyway, she planned to visit at least two of them, the two she thought herself capable of handling. Firewine Bridge. The School of Ulcaster. Dulrag's Tower. The Dark Tower of Durlag would have to wait, she wasn't foolhardy enough to enter that dreaded place just yet. But by all accounts, the old Firewine Bridge ruins had been empty and abandoned for years and should pose no great threat. And there might still be some valuables left behind.

The party reached the Firewine Bridge just as the sun was setting. The Firewine River had long been dry, only the cracked and dry riverbed remained, a deep wound through a rocky and infertile landscape where only cacti and weeds seemed to thrive. The Bridge itself was a huge structure. It stood out in stark relief against the burning sky like a large black beast, crouching and ready to leap. As the adventurers drew nearer, they found that this beast was old and weak, snarling with gaps between its pointed teeth. The dark stone of the bridge was chipped and cracked, in places large parts of the railings were missing entirely. From the massive arches, taller than the tallest building Rini had yet seen, large blocks of stone had fallen, smashed to fine dust against the bridge. 

"Are you s-sure this is s-s-safe?" Khalid asked nervously.

"Well, no", Rini admitted. "But then again, what is? And it is the only way to the ruins on the other side, unless we want to climb down to the riverbed." 

An unearthly wail drifted up from the riverbed as if in answer to this statement, a scream from many inhuman throats. It was a sound to make the blood run cold as ice-water through the veins. The adventurers looked across the railing to see a large group of undead milling about below. Skeletons mostly, with some ghouls and ghasts mixed in. The sun had just sunk beneath the horizon and more undead were digging their way out of the ground by the minute.

"O-on s-s-second thought", Khalid said, "the b-bridge doesn't look a-all that b-b-bad an option." 

"Right", Edwin said. "I say it's a good bridge. A nice bridge. So, it's falling to pieces a bit. Everybody has bad days, don't they?"

The bridge seemed to appreciate this flattery and refrained from falling to pieces any more as the adventurers started crossing it. Still, what was already done couldn't be undone. Halfway across they came to a wide crack where the bridge had broken in two. Fortunately, some helpful person had laid a plank across the gap. It wasn't a particularly wide plank, though. In fact, it was downright narrow. The undead had been following the party's progress across the bridge closely, running along beneath it in an effort to keep up. Now they gathered beneath the hole, their dead eyes filled with hungry eagerness.

"Let's go", Zaerini said. "Before any of them figure out that they can get on to the bridge by doubling back and climbing out of the riverbed. It looked rather shallow at the other end." At her words a few of the skeletons turned their heads upwards eagerly, and then started back towards the edge of the river.

"Oh, well done", Edwin said. "You just had to go and say that, didn't you? Why don't you tip them off about cooperating in climbing while you're at it?" The skeletons took this advice eagerly and started climbing onto each other’s backs, rapidly forming a swaying skeletal tower that was starting to reach for the hole in the bridge.

"Will the two of you", Jaheira bellowed, "please stop giving them hints and move instead?"

The bard and the wizard gave each other a look. "Think we should?" Rini asked and flipped her red hair across her shoulder.

"Oh, eventually", Edwin replied with a sly grin. "Once we've finished our discussion. And counted all the stars in the sky. And once the druid learns to take a joke. (That should keep us busy for a few millennia.)"

Rini grinned. "And amused as well", she said. Then she winked at the now quietly fuming druid. "Go on, Jaheira", she said. "We're coming, we were only ruffling your fur a little."

The druid sniffed and walked across the plank, never looking down or paying any outward attention to the climbing skeletons beneath. Khalid followed her, trembling and weak-kneed. He was in great danger of losing his balance more than once, and likely would have done so if the more agile Imoen hadn't been right behind to help keep him steady. Edwin was next, and Zaerini was surprised to see how easily he moved. He really was a lot more dexterous than she'd thought.

_I wonder how he'd do without those robes hindering him_ , she thought.

_Probably not too badly_ , Softpaws commented as she ran across the plank like a smoothly flowing black ghost. _The male has some inborn grace, I think. But don't you think he'd get a little cold without anything on?_

_Softy! That is not what I meant, and you know it!_

_Do I? Now get on with it, kitten. Everybody's waiting for you and those nasty bones are almost up to the hole. And hunting prey with no meat on is such a complete waste of time._

_Right. Coming._

Zaerini stepped onto the plank and started walking across it. She'd never been afraid of heights, and she was very good at keeping her balance. Under normal circumstances this shouldn't have been a problem. However, the skeletons had by now almost reached the plank. Bony fingers were reaching for her, grasping for her ankles. They were icy to the touch.

_Please let it work this time_ , the bard thought as she reached for her spell components. "Ego Reflectus!" she screamed, and this time she got the spell right. Six identical copies of herself were suddenly present, moving as one with her, making her hurried scramble across the plank seem like some sort of coordinated dance number. The skeletons were confused and started flailing wildly about, unsure of which redheaded half-elf to go for. The tower of bones started swaying, then toppling…and then it fell. A cloud of bone-dust rose into the air as the skeletons hit the stony ground beneath and were smashed to pieces. "Yes!" Rini cried out. "What's the matter you undead creeps? Forget that the leg-bones supposed to be attached to the hip-bone?" She kicked the plank down after her to the block the way. The small group of skeletons charging across the bridge behind her made a panicky effort to stop, but it was too late. They tumbled across the edge after their companions, and more bones were scattered across the rocks. Then all was quiet, and not a single skeleton remained animated.

"Wow", Imoen said reverently as she looked across the bridge railing. "That sure is a lot of bones…"

"Quite", Edwin agreed. He gave Zaerini an approving look, divided between her and her mirror images. "And I see you finally managed to get the spell to work. I thought you would, eventually, given the proper…motivation. (I could get used to this teaching thing; I think. Very satisfying.)"

"Glad you think so", Rini said with a cheerful smile, or rather seven cheerful smiles. "What's next on the schedule?"

"Well, we'll keep on going over the basics. And then once you get good enough, maybe some mutual research? (I always wanted to learn those tricky demon summoning spells…)"

"Sounds great to me."

"I am sure it does", Jaheira said in a suspiciously innocent voice. "You seem to be very enthusiastic about…studying…these days."

"A hale and hearty hello mine friends! A fine day, is it not?" Zaerini gave the young man standing on the Firewine Bridge a long look. A gloomy evening on a crumbling bridge with swarms of undead crawling beneath her wasn't exactly what she'd call a 'fine day'. The young man who had expressed this strange sentiment was standing by the railing of the Firewine Bridge, beaming earnestly at the five travelers. He seemed to be examining some sort of scroll.

"Yes", Rini said in a cautious voice. "A really fine day. The skeletons are glowing such a lovely white in the dark like you wouldn't believe. Who are you anyway?"

"My name is Poe", the young man said, oblivious to the sarcasm, "and it was not always so serene in these parts though, as you can no doubt discern from the ruins about us all. Tragic loss to the area it was, some 300 years past. I've tales though; tales of heroes and villains that have come and gone amidst these stones since that prosperous time. Could I entreat your ears to hear one? It is an epic I have been working on for some time, based on the rumors I hear and the strange things I see in my dreams at night. Would you care for a story this eve?"

"Oh certainly", Edwin said. "After a brush with death the first thing we long for is always a little poetry reading. (Do us all a favor and swallow some flaming knives, why don't you? If you can make yourself disappear as well, I'd be truly ecstatic.)"

"Aw, come on", Imoen pleaded. "I like stories. Let's hear it! Right, Rini?"

"Well", Zaerini said. She was tired, but she was always interested in listening to the works of a fellow bard. "All right. As long as it doesn't take too long."

"Wonderful! Stand relaxed and I shall relate it to you! It is a poetic treatise I should like to call "The Knights of Days Hence." Ehh...I know the title needs work, but the soul of the piece is right and true!" He then proceeded to recite an incredibly long and rather melodramatic poem about a group of knights that had entered the Firewine ruins to fight against evil. Apparently one of them had betrayed his friends, slaying them all as they slept, but had been killed himself before he could make his escape.

"When one for all turns all for one  
the injured souls take solace none in death's release so stand they will,  
til honor's need someone dost fill.

Together enter, together fall.  
Tis as the vow agreed by all and all must stand and wait in time  
for one that ran to face the crime.

I have not been, but have been told  
of Knights of days gone past so bold to warrant heartfelt prayers from thee,  
that rogue's return might set them free." 

Poe bowed after reciting the final three verses and eagerly awaited the comments of his audience.

"Interesting", Zaerini said and handed him some coins. "Is there any truth to it?"

"Ahh, but there is some truth in everything, is there not? I cannot attest to the validity of the tale itself, as I have only culled from hearsay. I only know for certain that it makes for good patronage when I pass my hat. Strikes a chord with many, it does." He waved and walked off. 

"That was so sad", Imoen sad. "I wonder if he regretted it?"

"If who regretted what?" Edwin asked.

"The knight. The one who betrayed his friends. They must have been really close and all, or they wouldn't have promised to die for each other. And then he killed them all. I just wondered…no matter how good reasons he thought he had; don't you think he felt just a little bit sorry afterward?"

"Who knows?" the Red Wizard said. "I believe the part about how they 'wait with unbelieving rage' though. (And if they should ever catch hold of him, I don't doubt they'd make him feel sorry. Very sorry indeed.)"

"But that's not what I meant. I just think that even if he hadn't been killed, he'd have found it really hard to live with having done a thing like that."

"Perhaps. Yes, perhaps." The wizard looked grim. "Breaking an oath…betraying a trust. Such things always bring misery. One way or another." He shook his head. "Are we going to stand about here much longer, or are we going to get going before I start growing moss?"

"Right", Rini said. "Let's go."

Hardly had the adventurers got off the bridge before the next stranger came upon them. A woman this time, a mage in red robes. They were torn and dirty, and her face was haggard. Her eyes stared ahead of her as if she was looking into another world entirely. In her arms she clutched a large black jar as tenderly as if it were her own firstborn child. "He's driving me.......mad!" she sobbed. "Oh, please make it stop, make him stop his screaming. AAAHhhhhhh.......Shut it up!"

"Is she a Red Wizard?" Zaerini whispered to Edwin.

"Hardly. The woman is obviously deranged. And besides, her robes are the wrong color, almost orange. Still, she'd better not wear anything even resembling Homeland colors should she ever travel to Thay, or she'll find herself meeting with some unfortunate accident before long."

"What…what are you whispering about over there?" the strange woman asked suspiciously. "He…he's driving me mad; you know."

"What's wrong?" Rini asked. "What is driving you to madness? Lady, if you want help, you're going to have to calm down."

"He..it's in my head. It won't be quiet, just keeps on whispering, and whispering. You see this jar. Do you SEE it?!!!"

"Lovely", Edwin muttered. "Another lunatic. What is it about the Sword Coast that draws them here like flies to honey, I wonder? Certainly, it can't be the climate. Next, she'll probably tell us she's got the head of Elminster inside that thing and that she'll show it to us for a highly reasonable sum. (Come to think of it, I would pay to see that.)"

Zaerini shot him an annoyed glance. "Don't prod the poor woman", she said. "She's obviously unstable." Then she addressed the stranger again. "We see the jar lady, now just calm down and tell us what's happening."

The woman smiled; a brittle smile fraught with pain. "My companions and I.....we explored the Firewine ruins.....and we found....we found, this jar. It....it drove them all mad. They hacked and they cut, and.....the blood, so much blood. They're all dead now, and only I'm left. The voice....it tells me to say the name. If I say the name, it promises great rewards. But....I won't.....I won't."

_Right_ , Zaerini thought and made herself give the woman her calmest, most reassuring smile. _She's completely out of her head. Let's just hope she's not dangerous as well_. "What do you want us to do lady?" she asked. "How can we help you?"

The woman patted the jar, then gave a brief scream and clawed at her own eyes, drawing blood. "Poor Carsa cannot be helped. You can't help Carsa! You must run and run fast. Soon Carsa will not be able to resist.....soon Carsa will say its name. Then it will come....and there will be blood....my blood, your blood."

"Ah, yes", Edwin said, "Blood. How charming. This sounds like an excellent time for us to walk away quietly."

"We can't", Rini hissed. "If she's telling the truth I don't dare leave her behind with that thing. Who knows what she might do with it? We could have a demon or something on our trail if she decides to use it." The bard slowly approached the madwoman, reaching out her hand towards her. "Just give us the jar Carsa. We'll know what to do with it. Don't worry."

"NO!" Carsa screamed and clutched the jar tighter to her chest. "Carsa will not give the jar. The jar is Carsa's and hers alone. Get away....get away or Carsa will say the name.....and we will all die."

"Come on, Carsa. Give us the jar. You know you want to."

"You not take the jar from Carsa. It's mine. MINE!! Stay away, or I say the name. Stay away."

"Oh, give it a rest", Edwin said, sounding rather annoyed. "All she needs is a little firmness." He cleared his throat and gave Carsa a threatening glare. "Listen to me. I don't really care whether that jar contains the ashes of your dead Grandmother, the brain you're obviously not using or simply a hangover cure for the drunken binge you seem to have been on for the last couple of decades. I just want you to shut up. We're taking the jar from you, whether you like it or not."

Carsa's crazed eyes nearly bulged from her face. Then she screamed. "NOOOoooo. KAHRK!! OH MIGHTY KAHRK!!!" She pulled the jar open as she spoke and as she uttered the final syllable she fell to the ground, quite dead. 

"Great going, Eddie", Rini snapped. "You have such a wonderful flair for diplomacy. If I didn't know it started centuries ago, I'd guess you created the entire Rashemani/Thay situation all by yourself." She paused in her scolding as she saw what was happening to the jar. Some sort of gas was leaking out of it, forming a rapidly expanding red cloud. This cloud was starting to assume a certain shape as well, a shape that was becoming more and more humanoid by the second. It was large too, towering above her. And now it resembled a dark-skinned man with a small beard and glowing red eyes. He was dressed in an exotic manner, with a large red turban, a satin vest that left his broad chest bare, baggy trousers and what seemed to be pointed slippers. "Uh-Oh…", the half-elf said. 

"MUAHAHAHAHA!" the apparition laughed. "I am free....at last!" He picked the jar up and dashed it to pieces against his head, without so much as blinking. 

"Uh…hi!" Imoen said. "Who are you?"

"Who am I? WHO AM I? Impudence! Mortals, before you die, know that you have pleased KAHRK, mightiest of the Dao Djinn. Your deaths shall feed my power, for now I am weak. MUAHAHAHAHA!"

Oh good, Zaerini thought. He may be a homicidal maniac, but at least he's a happy, cheerful one. That makes me feel so much better.

"That's not very grateful", Edwin protested. "Aren't you supposed to fulfill three of our wishes for letting you out of that thing? (And if I can get him to turn me into the mightiest wizard in the world, I won't really need him anymore, will I?)"

"Three wishes?" the Dao laughed. "That's for feeble, pathetic weaklings like the Djinni. But I am a Dao, and I crave vengeance. And I will have it! MUAHAHAHAHA!"

"Ah, come on", Rini said, willing her voice not to shake. "The mightiest of the Dao Djinn? Don't make me laugh. You're nothing but a big, dumb, fraudulent puff of hot air. You probably couldn't even make a fabulous feast appear out of thin air."

"Child?" Jaheira hissed out of the corner of her mouth. "What are you doing?"

Zaerini ignored her and gave the Dao an impudent stare. "Like I said. One big fraud."

"How dare you!" Kahrk roared. "Watch my works and tremble at my might!" He waved a hand and in a puff of red smoke a fabulous meal appeared. The table was set with a snowy white linen cloth, the chairs had soft cushions of red velvet. Silver candelabra flickered brightly, and on the table was the food. Truly a meal to tempt a king, it had every sort of delicacy imaginable. Wonderful smells wafted through the air, making the mouths of the adventurers water. "HA!" Kahrk exclaimed. "What say you to THAT? Truly I am the mightiest! MUAHAHAHAHA!" 

Zaerini inspected the table. "Not bad", she said. "Not bad at all." She pulled the cork out of a wine bottle and poured the wine into the silver goblets standing on the table. Then she sniffed at the cork and made a face. "Oh no!" she said. "This won't do at all. This wine has a distinct smell of armor-polish, rotten eggs and sweat."

"WHAT? IMPOSSIBLE?"

"Would I lie to you? Come here and taste it for yourself." The bard held out the half-empty wine bottle towards the Dao and felt a small surge of triumph as the creature puffed into smoke once more. The huge red cloud started trickling into the bottle. "Gotcha!" Rini cried and slammed the cork back in, making sure it stuck. Then she shook the bottle and heard the wine slosh about through the red mist in a very satisfying manner.

"What?" Kahrk cried out, now in a much smaller voice. "No! I…I… * hic * don't want to… * hic * Oooohhh…. Fat old Bob was a jolly old sod, a jolly old sod was he… * hic * He called for his ale, he called for his grog, he called for fat ladies three…" The song subsided into drunken ravings.

"That should keep him quiet", Zaerini said with a satisfied smirk. She placed the bottle on the table where it immediately started singing bawdy pirate sea chanteys. "Well, relatively quiet." She smiled at the somewhat shocked faces of her friends. "Anybody else feeling hungry? Looks like dinner has been served, and we sure could use it after a jarring experience like that. Though I should pass on the pickled djinn if I were you."

Dinner turned out to be a highly pleasant affair, despite being taken out in the middle of nowhere and with bats fluttering overhead. Once done, Rini stuffed the Genie bottle inside her pack, being careful to wrap it up so it wouldn't accidentally break. She didn't want to leave it lying around, and it might even come in handy somehow. The adventurers were just about to leave when they heard the voice. A loud, bragging, obnoxious voice.

The voice in turn belonged to a loud, bragging, obnoxious man. A warrior with a permanent look of distaste on his face as if he had just smelled something bad. The slicked-back look of his light hair hinted that he'd poured about a barrel of oil into it. "Greeting little ones", he said. "You have the look of experienced travelers, and a few of you look to be fine warriors. My name is Meilum, I'm the Sword Coast's most skilled swordsman. You may have heard of my name, I'm quite famous after all."

"Wow", Zaerini said, trying to keep a straight face. "The best swordsman on the Sword Coast. It's an honor to meet such a distinguished man."

Meilum straightened up and looked immensely pleased with himself. "Yes, I know, I know. I'm quite unbeatable. Never lost a fight once. Sometimes it can be a pain being such a renowned swordsman. You know, people making challenges, women throwing their underpants. But what can a man do. If you're born with a skill, you might as well show it off."

_Throwing their underpants? That is so gross. I wouldn't want my nice underpants to be soiled by contact with the likes of him._

"You know, you're perfectly right", Rini said. "If you've got a skill you might as well show it off. But since I highly doubt you've got one you worth seeing you might as well take a hike right now. There's no rain of underpants coming your way from these girls. Not unless your 'skill' is doing laundry, and probably not even then. You'd probably toss my red ones in with Jaheira's white, and the end result would be a dreadful pink that only Immy would want to wear." 

The half-elf thought she saw Khalid go slightly bug-eyed at this, and Edwin looked as if he were about to choke on his own tongue. Jaheira was grinning slightly though and Imoen was giggling openly. _Really_ , Rini thought. _Sometimes men can be so innocent. It's kind of sweet though_. Her golden eyes narrowed into mere slits as she gave Meilum a curious glance. "How about it?" she asked. "Feel up to the challenge? Or is laundry too advanced for you as well? I just figured you'd be used to it, with all that disgusting grease in your hair you must go through your shirts like there's no tomorrow."

"You…you dirty little half-breed tramp!" Meilum screamed and drew his sword. "I'll teach you a lesson you'll never…" And then he screamed as an Acid Arrow struck him square in the groin, making a rather horrible hissing sound. It was rapidly followed by another one, and the screams turned to harsh whimpers. Then the noises abruptly ceased as Rini drove her sword home.

"Thanks, Eddie", the half-elf said with a small smile as she started cleaning her sword. "Very stylish way of making a point."

"It was my pleasure", the Red Wizard said and kicked the dead body contemptuously. "That fellow was beginning to seriously annoy me, what with his manifest stupidity. What difference does it make if you happen to be of mixed blood? Much better than to be a full-blooded idiot, that's what I think."

"I know. And I…like…the way you think. It really means a lot. More than you could possibly know."

"Well", Edwin said, his face almost entirely hidden by the cowl of his robe. "I…can guess. It would be much easier if we were all able to choose our parents wouldn't it? (And much less embarrassing.)"

"Much as I hate to disturb", Jaheira said coming up from behind, "I think it is high time we entered the ruins if we still intend to. There may be no undead around at the moment, but who knows what other beasts or assorted madmen may lurk nearby?"

"Right", Zaerini said in a more business-like voice. "I agree. Let's see what the Firewine Bridge Ruins have to offer."

The party's first impression of the Ruins was darkness. A narrow, dark and twisting corridor, that immediately branched into several other even narrower, darker and more twisting corridors.

"Oh d-d-dear", Khalid said. "I r-r-really don't l-like this."

"Who cares about liking?" Edwin asked. "We're here for the possible treasure, not to buy the place. (For one thing, I much prefer the spacious look above the rat-warren style.)"

"We should be careful though", Imoen said. "Lots of corners here for things to hide behind. I'll scout ahead, how's that?" The thief was already tucking her pink hair into her hood to make herself more inconspicuous.

"Good idea", Zaerini agreed. "Just be careful. Do you have any healing potions?"

"I'll check…yeah, here's something. No, wait. Those are the potions I bought at the Fair. I'd almost forgotten about them. One is supposed to bring strength and the other intelligence, but the merchant forgot to tell me which was which. They were really cheap though."

"Potions?" Edwin asked in an interested voice. "I know quite a great deal about potions actually. Perhaps I could take a look at them?"

"Oh, sure. You can have them if you like. Well, I'll see you guys later. Just stay right here and I'll come back to tell you when it's all safe."

Slowly, mindnumbingly slowly, the adventurers made their way through the Firewine Bridge ruins. It wasn't long before Rini decided that she hated the whole loathsome place enough to want to blow it all up. Not only were the tunnels so narrow that they were forced to walk in single file, something that made her feel as if the walls were pressing in to crush her. Not only were there plenty of nasty traps around so that they were forced to move at a snail's pace. Not only had she lost all of sense of direction and was forced to let Jaheira pick their way through the dark labyrinth. No, as if all of that wasn't bad enough there were still the kobolds. Aggressive, vicious little creatures, and all of them armed with fire arrows. One of them would have been laughably easy to handle. Dozens of them were another thing entirely. 

The pesky critters seemed to spawn out of the very walls. If you'd cleared one room and then went back five minutes later, you could safely assume that it would be swarming with kobolds once again. And she was tired, so tired. The tension and the inability to relax was really starting to get to her. Rini swore quietly to herself and stopped to catch her breath. 

"Something wrong?" asked Edwin who made up the rear of the group. 

"No, no. Just a little tired, that's all. I'll be fine in a moment."

"Are you quite sure? Perhaps we should rest for a bit."

"I don't dare stop for long. There are kobolds everywhere. There's far too many of them too, I can't help but wonder what they're all doing here." The bard sighed. "Well, I suppose we should catch up with the others…" Then she paused. "Er…can you hear the others?"

Edwin listened attentively, and then he shook his head, his face pale and tense in the flickering magelight. "I hear nothing", he said.

"Well hurry up! They can't be that far ahead of us, we only stopped for a minute!" The bard hurried down the narrow corridor as quickly as she dared, Edwin close behind her. In a few moments she stopped, and her heart filled with icy dread. The passage split in five ahead of her, none of them giving any sort of hint as to where her friends might have gone. She didn't dare call out for them either, there was no way of telling what might answer. 

_Softpaws?_ she asked. _Can you smell them?_

There was no answer.

_Damn! She must be far enough ahead that she can't even hear me! Now what?_ It was at that moment that Zaerini did something of which she was later greatly ashamed. She panicked. As plain and simple as that. A combination of weariness, darkness, the oppressive sense of the tunnels, the constant attempts at her life and being separated from her familiar all conspired to make her lose her head. She rushed into the first tunnel she came upon, heedless of where she was going. She just ran, with no thought at all of how she was going to get back. She didn't stop so much as she was stopped, when she tripped over an outcropping rock and fell flat on her face. 

Darkness. Wet rock beneath her, the cold of it seeping into her clothes, into her soul. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself not to sob. And then she felt a hand on her shoulder, and she reacted instinctively, twisting around to try to reach for her sword, hissing like a wounded beast. It was Edwin's extreme good fortune that the half-elf's ability to see better than a human in the dark caused her to recognize him in time. As it was, she was just barely able to hold herself back.

"Well", the wizard said. "I suppose that's that. We're well and truly lost now." He didn't sound so much annoyed as resigned. 

For once Zaerini was at an utter loss as to what to say. _This is my fault_ , she thought. _All my fault. We'll never be able to find our way back now. If the kobolds don't get us we'll starve or thirst to death_. And she was tired. So tired, and too afraid to rest. "I…I'm sorry", she said in a small voice. "So sorry." She felt the tears welling into her eyes now, and she couldn't hold them back, no matter how much she tried to. She curled in on herself, head against her knees, back shaking with silent sobs. It seemed to go on forever, but probably it was only a minute or so. 

And then she felt an arm around her shoulders, steadying her, human warmth against her cold skin. A soft voice murmuring into her ear, words she didn't recognize, but it was the tone of voice that mattered, nothing else. Faint smell of cinnamon and lemongrass, and something else she couldn't recognize. A hand gently touching her hair. She subsided into the comforting sensations, let the storm of her weeping pass. This…was peace. She had almost forgotten what it felt like. "I…I apologize", Zaerini managed once she was finally able to speak again. "You must think me very foolish."

She felt rather than saw the wizard shake his head. "Not really", he said. "No, I…don't think that at all."

She was still leaning against him, Rini realized, but she really didn't feel any urgent need to move. And he didn't seem to mind either. "Hang on", she said as she suddenly thought of something. "When I ran off…you could have stayed behind. The others would probably have made their way back soon and found you."

"Why yes", Edwin said, sounding rather surprised. "I suppose I could have. That would have been the logical thing to do, wouldn't it?"

"So why didn't you?"

The wizard chuckled quietly. "Would you know", he said, "I never even thought of it. Isn't that strange? (Perhaps there are some weird fumes down here that affect the senses. It certainly feels much hotter than it ought to.)"

Rini grinned slightly and wiped at her eyes. She was feeling much better already. "You know, I usually don't do this sort of thing."

"Me neither."

"I may have to kill you if you tell anybody."

"Likewise." Very deadpan voice. Just the faintest hint of a crooked smile to say differently as well as an amused sparkle in those dark eyes.

"And now", Zaerini said and got to her feet, "perhaps we should see about getting out of here. We'll make it. Somehow."

That proved to be a little easier said than done, as a matter of fact. Still, they were no longer walking aimlessly, instead marking each new passage to know where they had been before. Fortunately, there didn't seem to be as many kobolds in this part of the dungeon. There was something else though.

A loud moan suddenly echoed through the dark tunnel, filled with despair, loss and suffering. It didn't sound as if it came from very far off either. The bard and the wizard gave each other a worried look. "I really, really, really don't like the sound of that", Rini said in a fervent voice as she drew her sword.

"Maybe it's nothing to worry about", Edwin tried. "It could be…I don't know…a kobold with a really bad case of indigestion? Or some innocent traveler who just discovered that he forgot to pack the Potion of Kobold Repelling. (Come to think of it, I did that myself.)"

At that moment, a skeleton came shambling around the corner. It was dressed in an old and rusty armor, it waved an ancient sword about in a threatening manner, and its eyes glowed with a cold blue fire, merciless but yet somehow plaintive. "Strike me down......." it moaned. "Take the armor back......"

There really wasn't much time to talk things over. Rini hadn't got any spells left, and a sword wasn't the best weapon for attacking a creature made up entirely of bones, but she at least managed to keep it at a distance while Edwin peppered it with Magic Missiles. Eventually the undead knight slumped to his bony knees. "I thank thee", he whispered. "Please…find…my comrades." The light went out of his empty eyesockets and he was nothing but a heap of bones.

"I take it that was the knight who betrayed his friends", Zaerini said as she sheathed her sword again. 

"Yes", Edwin agreed. "I assume that means the ones he killed are still down here as well."

"Poor thing", the half-elf sighed and started stripping the old armor off the skeleton. "He may have been a traitor, but he seemed so…sad. I'll just bring this old thing in case we happen to find his friends."

They walked in silence for a while, thankfully managing to avoid all but a few kobolds. "So", Edwin eventually said. "Have you given any thought to the suggestion I made earlier?" Though the words were neutral his voice sounded just a little tense.

"What, about traveling to Thay?" Zaerini asked. "I don't know. It might be interesting, assuming I survive this whole Sarevok thing of course. But…I just don't know about dealing with the Red Wizards. I…don't know if I want to be tied up with,any organization."

"But why? Can't you see how beneficial it could be to you?"

"Maybe." The half-elf shook her head. "But I don't really trust in large organizations. I mean, I know you, and I trust you, but how do I know I can trust **them**?"

Edwin was silent for a moment. "I sincerely urge you", he said, "to reconsider this. Surely you must realize that I wouldn't ask you to do this if I didn't believe in it myself? (Though there is much more I would say…but cannot. She has no idea of the forces at work here.) I cannot enough stress the importance of your decision."

"We'll see. I haven't ruled it out entirely I guess…but I really don't think I'll be able to do what you ask. I'll let you know as soon as I decide, you deserve that."

"Deserve?", the Red Wizard said in a morose voice. "Yes. Yes, I suppose I do. (Yes, I think I'll get exactly what I deserve, one way or another.)"

Zaerini would have queried him further about his strange mood, but at that moment she heard voices nearby. Strange voices, and there was a cold draft in the air. Cautiously she peered around a corner to see a chilling and eerie sight. There stood the dead knights betrayed so many years ago, bony hands still clasping swords, still wearing armor and helmet though the flesh they had protected was long since rotted away. As they noticed the two mortals they turned as one, watching them. 

"Together enter......Together fall......", one of the knights murmured in a low but commanding voice. "Such was the vow agreed.....None shall leave until all are one.....Such the vow remains....We must be as one......"

"I…hear you", Zaerini said and held out the broken armor. "And I have met your…friend…already." 

The knight eagerly accepted the ancient armor, and a ghostly mist swirled up around it, coalescing into the shape of the traitor knight. Silently he bowed before the others. "I…have returned", he said. "Years of torment…now at end. No escape from guilt or grief…except in retribution. Take it then…my brothers."

The other knights watched him in silence for a minute. Then the leader spoke again, his voice still stern but with a streak of mercy running through it. "Torment suffered…is penance enough", he said. "The vow…was remembered, though you had forgotten it. So it was...So it is.......Together enter.....Together fall.....Brother traitor completes the one......Together free.......Come with us then…my brother." For an instant there was a look of surprise and immense relief in the traitor knight's ghostly eyes, as if he hardly dared believe in the forgiveness he had been granted. He bowed again, then clasped the hand of his leader. Then the apparitions all dissolved into a fine mist and were gone, no trace of them remaining.

"That…was beautiful", Rini breathed. 

Edwin shivered. "And rare", he said. "How many would forgive a betrayal like that? I…don't understand it."

"Well, they were really good friends, weren't they? Sometimes people are able to forgive more than you think."

Edwin snorted. "Ha! Some people don't deserve to be…" And then he swallowed the last of what he was going to say as a ghostly shape, black as she deep shadows surrounding them, leapt onto his shoulder and gave him an amused look.

"Softpaws!" Rini cried out and held her arms out to her familiar. The cat gracefully leapt into them, allowing herself to be petted. "Oh, you have no idea how glad I am to see you!"

"Ecstatic", Edwin said in a shaky voice. "Though I would prefer it if she would refrain from sneaking up from behind like that. That sort of thing tends to make me nervous for some reason."

The cat purred softly and flicked her tail. _But it's so very entertaining_ , she told Zaerini. _Tell the male that if you're able to walk like a cat you'd be a fool not to take advantage of it. And there are so many nice shadows here. Where have you two been by the way? The druid is frantic._

_Oh dear. Is she very angry?_

_Mostly worried, though I'm sure she'll give you both a tongue-lashing when you return. She did say something about putting you on a leash as I recall._

_Where are they?_

_I'll show you. Tail up kitten. Just follow me and everything be all right._

_What would I do without you?_

The cat purred even louder. _Keep getting lost_ , she said. _Kittens do that. But annoying as it is, you're always happy when you manage to find them again._


	21. Accidental Heroes

**In The Cards 21 - Accidental Heroes**

_I sometimes think that for every heroic deed that somebody actually set out to do, there's at least three that people simply happened to stumble across. But of course, few people are willing to admit that they aren't actually all that noble, but simply cursed with bad luck. Then again, some certain people will stubbornly deny any trace of heroism even while defying death for the sake of others. I’ve learned to just nod and smile and pretend to believe it._

_Excerpt from 'Ruminations Of A Master Bard'_

"And you could both have been killed! What were you thinking of? Have you any idea what might have happened?" Jaheira was practically spitting fire by now and she looked about ready to bite somebody's head off.

"Look, we didn't exactly do it on purpose", Zaerini said. "Getting lost in dark, smelly tunnels is not my idea of fun."

"Oh no?" the druid said. "Then perhaps you should both stay right here by my side, where I can keep an eye on you. I would not want you to get…distracted…by something again." She sounded suspiciously innocent.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Rini asked.

Jaheira simply snorted and shook her head. "Never make the mistake of thinking me a fool, child", she said. "Now come. Imoen should be back any minute." She walked off down the corridor. 

"I have no idea what she's talking about", Rini said out loud and pulled a hand through her red hair. "Have you any idea what she's talking about?"

Edwin shook his head. "She's clearly delusional", he said. "Too much talking with trees, most probably. Pay no attention to her."

"Yeah. You could be right. I mean, why would we have tried to get lost on purpose? Weird idea."

The bard and the Red Wizard followed Jaheira to the junction further down the hall where Khalid was keeping watch. After a few moments Imoen came around the corner, a quiet presence felt rather than heard. She really was getting much better at sneaking these days.

"Trouble up ahead", Imoen said in a quiet voice. "More kobolds with fire arrows and two large ogrillons. But that's not the worst of it."

"Why do I get the feeling", Edwin said, "that you're about to tell us what is the worst?"

Imoen grinned. "There's a wizard too", she said. "And an Ogre Mage. Seems the human mage is working for the ogre. I couldn't hear much, but they said something about the kobolds being bait for adventurers. Called them 'plump chickens ready for the spit'. The adventurers, I mean. Not the kobolds."

"Charming", Rini said in a dry voice. "So, they're robbers then?"

"Looks like it. It makes sense too. I mean, adventurers usually carry nice and valuable stuff, right?"

"Right. Well, these little chickens aren't quite ready to be spitted yet. We need a plan though. And I think I know just the thing."

A few minutes later Zaerini followed Imoen towards the sound of voices raised in argument. One was sniveling and fearful, the other deep and growling.

"But suppose somebody really dangerous comes?" the scared voice said. "With all the adventurers that disappeared so far they're bound to get the hint and send for somebody better."

"Who cares what weak little halflings do?" the other voice said. "More meat for the larder, more gold for the coffers. HA!"

"But…"

"Shut your face, mageling. Do your work, leave thinking for me. Me the boss. You the bossed." 

Imoen carefully peered around the corner. "Just a little to the left", she mouthed to her friend, her voice almost inaudible. "Up a bit. That's it. Go!"

Rini didn't hesitate. She fired her lightning wand and a dazzling lightning bolt, almost bright enough to blind, slammed into the wall of the tunnel ahead of her. She could hear it hiss and sizzle as it bounced down the corridor, and then the agonized screams and yelps as it hit something other than cold stone. Another bolt, and another. More screams. Then silence. "Are they dead yet?" she whispered to her friend.

"I think so. The mage is down, and so are the kobolds and ogrillons. Wait a minute. Where's the… Eeep!" And then Imoen struggled in vain as a large hand lifted her into the air. White tusks and ivory horns gleamed in the faint torchlight as an invisibility spell dissolved. The creature had skin as green as grass and carried a large whip. The truly frightening thing about it were its eyes though. Jet black eyes, with white pupils.

"MMMaaaahaha!" the Ogre Mage laughed. "Puny peoples come to fight!? Good! It has been much fun killing the little people of Gullykin....but it will be just much fun killing you!"

_Gullykin?_ Rini thought. _We're near Gullykin? So that's where this tunnel winds up_. She knew of Gullykin, a halfling village to the southeast of Beregost, though she had never been there.

"Why would you want to kill halflings?" she asked, trying to stall for time. If she could distract the Ogre Mage long enough her other friends would be able to make it here before he hurt Imoen. "What good does that do you?"

The Ogre Mage grinned, displaying his prominent tusks once again, and bent forwards. His breath smelled like rotting meat. "Little ones are bait", he said. "Bait to bring big ones - big ones with nice and shiny swords and pretty gems. You not very big though. Me kill you now, eat you for dinner. Nice and juicy."

"Whoa!" Imoen protested. "You don't want to eat us!"

"Why?"

Rini made her best superior face. "You're not the only one to use bait, you know", she said. "Sorry to have to tell you this, but you've been had."

The Ogre Mage looked confused. "Me not understand", he said. "Who use bait?"

"Well, you didn't think we'd come here alone did you? That would be silly. Now let my friend go…or…or I'll ask my big brother to hurt you. Yes. That's what I'll do."

The Ogre Mage looked doubtful, but at that moment the bard projected her voice down a side corridor, summoning forth the threatening voice of Sarevok.

"Come to me, beast", the deep and deadly voice called out in challenge. "Face a real warrior, if you dare. Come, and I shall spit you on my sword like the miserable wretch you are."

The Ogre Mage snarled and let Imoen drop to the ground with a loud * thud * . Then he charged off down the empty corridor, snuffling and growling. After a few moments his voice could be heard again. "Hey!" he said. "There's nobody…" The lightning bolt hit him square in the face, and then bounced off the walls to hit him again, and again, and again.

When it was over the two girls looked at each other and sighed with relief. "Whew", Imoen said. "Never thought I'd have Sarevok to thank for my life."

"Makes you think, doesn't it?" the half-elf responded. "Stupid ogre. I told him he wasn't the only one to use bait." She raised her hand as if greeting an invisible being. "Thanks for the help, brother, though I'm sure you'd eat your own sword raw if you knew."

Khalid, Jaheira and Edwin came up from behind at that point. "Oh m-m-my", Khalid said as he saw the carnage. "What h-happened h-h-here?"

"Aw, it was simple", Imoen said with a mischievous grin. "We just killed 'em all. No problem, really."

"No problem?" Edwin asked. "That's a dead Ogre Mage over there. You're telling me that was no problem for the two of you?"

Zaerini shook her head and winked at him. "Oh, that wasn't us", she said. "That was Sarevok." Having thoroughly enjoyed the sight of the three shocked faces in front of her she started laughing out loud, and Imoen was quick to join in. "I'll explain later", the bard said. "I promise."

The two dead wizards turned out to carry several jewels, as well as more than one interesting scroll. Edwin handed Zaerini one, looking very satisfied with his find. "This is Fireball", he explained. "A very useful spell, not to mention entertaining. I've always enjoyed it." Another one he kept for himself, saying that it was the spell called 'Cloud Kill', a potent and dangerous spell that he would save for later since he was not able to cast it just yet.

Pleased with their finds the adventurers continued on their way. The tunnel sloped steadily upwards now, and eventually it ended in front of a wooden door. Zaerini put her finger across her lips and motioned for her friends to keep quiet. Then she pulled the door open and stepped outside, feeling more than a little surprised to find herself in the middle of somebody's living room.

The room was small and cozy, and completely round. A fire roared cheerfully in the fireplace, spreading lovely warmth. Several comfortable armchairs stood in front of it, and there was a tiny bed in one secluded corner. There was a heavy smell of tobacco smoke in the air, easily explained by the room's sole occupant. A halfling sat in one of the armchairs, smoking a pipe almost as long as himself. For a halfling he certainly had an unusually dour face, Zaerini thought. Actually, he reminded her a bit of Montaron. 

"WHAT in the nine hells are you doing in my burrow home!" the halfling squeaked. "I don't know why you're here, but any assumptions you might have about halfling hospitality, does not apply to me. When an intruder breaks into my home, I kill 'em."

"Really?" Edwin asked as he stepped into the room. "Well, I suppose I can understand that, given that your downstairs neighbors are a tribe of vicious kobolds. You wouldn't want your other neighbors to find out about that, I assume. They probably wouldn't like it much."

The halfling's round face darkened with murderous rage. "So, you know", he snarled. "It's been a pretty setup this. Letting the kobolds in to terrorize the fools of the village, making them send for adventurers to clear the place out. We've earned a tidy sum from selling their equipment, and I'm not about to go back to being a farmer, I can tell you that much." He ran towards the other side of the room, reaching for the sword propped against the wall, but before he could reach it a Magic Missile slammed into his back, bringing him to his knees. 

"Come to think of it", Edwin said, "I don't like you much either."

The halfling struggled to get to his feet. "No!" he protested. "Jenkal will not be defeated! Not like this!" Then he groaned as Imoen hit him over the head with his own pipe, knocking him unconscious as well as breaking the pipe in two.

"Nooo…" Jenkal moaned before he fainted altogether. "Not….my uncle Boldrig's…old tobacco pipe…" 

"Well, that was enlightening", Jaheira said. "I take it we are in Gullykin, then. Shall we see what the other villagers have to say about all this?"

After the initial uproar caused by five armed strangers stepping out of Jenkal's house some of the halflings dared stand still long enough to listen to the explanations offered. After they had investigated the house and found the dead bodies in the tunnel, they were only too happy to fetch their Mayor, a cheerful grey-haired halfling almost as wide as he was tall, and with an open red-cheeked face.

"Amazing!" he exclaimed. "Truly amazing! You've cleared the Firewine Ruins, and exposed the traitor in our midst? Truly, the days of noble heroes aren't over yet!" The crowd of eagerly watching halflings cheered.

"Actually", Rini admitted, "we didn't really know where we were and…"

"Father!" a small halfling girl piped up. "I recognize these people! Remember that bard who passed through here? These must be the Heroes of Nashkel!"

Behind her Zaerini could hear Edwin groan. "Uh, yes", she said. "That would be us."

The Mayor's eyes grew as wide as plates. "Well!" he said. "Even more amazing! To get saved by great heroes like yourselves, it's an honor. Truly it is. You'll have to stay for dinner, of course. And second dinner, and breakfast, and…but I'm forgetting myself." He turned to the crowd and spread his arms wide. "People of Gullykin!" he shouted. "These good folks have saved us all! They shall be our friends forevermore, for their hearts are noble beyond belief!"

"Don't say it", Edwin whispered. "Please don't say it. Haven't I suffered enough already? (I'll never live this down. Never.)"

"I give you…the saviors of beleaguered halflings, friends of the needy, slayers of evil kobolds. In short - the Heroes of Gullykin!"

Zaerini waved at the cheering crowd, trying her best to look heroic.

"Thanks a lot", Edwin muttered. "You just had to go and say it, didn't you? Scorn City, here I come. (And here I used to actually like halfllings.)"

_Deep within the Wood of Sharp Teeth…_

"Sir? Master Adahn? Sir?"

"Yes?" Dekaras said, trying not to snarl.

"I still don't understand, sir. How will standing on one leg help us fight better?"

"For the thousandth time", the assassin said, "it is supposed to help you get a better sense of balance." He eyed the young bandit in front of him critically. The man resembled a young oak more than anything else. Tall, strong and wooden headed. A fairly typical specimen. "Am I to take it that you disapprove of my teaching methods? Perhaps you would prefer a practical demonstration instead, with yourself as a volunteer? I'm always ready to accommodate young minds thirsting for knowledge."

The bandit flinched a little, having already been witness to one such 'practical demonstration'. "No, no, sir", he hastily said. "That's all right. Er…what will you be teaching us tomorrow?"

Dekaras smiled and the bandit took another step back. It was that sort of smile. "To use your hands. You'll be catching bees, using nothing but your fingers."

"But…but won't that hurt?"

Dekaras raised an eyebrow and gave the young bandit a cool look. "Only if you're not nimble enough. Still, you're free to step aside at any time. I'm sure Tenhammer will understand. I'll make sure to ask him if you like."

"No, no, no", the bandit hurriedly said. "Bees, sir? Bees are fine by me. I like bees."

"Good. Now go join the rest of the class."

The young bandit hurried off to join his fellows. Dekaras gave the score of eager young bandits under his command an approving look. They were all standing on one leg, trying their best to keep their balance. That should keep them busy for a while. It was a totally ridiculous sight, as well as a beautiful one. "Keep on with that until I return", he instructed them. "When you fall, you switch to the other leg. I trust I need not tell you that cheating will not be appreciated?"

The bandits hastily cried out their negation. They'd seen a pair of cheaters dealt with some days previously. The two culprits still had trouble walking properly and were prone to nervous twitches. 

Dekaras gave his pupils a brief nod and walked off. Yes, this setup was working out very nicely. After he'd managed to impress Teven and Raiken, the two Black Talon recruiters, it hadn't been long before Taugosz Tenhammer started taking an interest as well. The Black Talon leader had thought that training a few of the more skilled bandits into an elite force was a brilliant idea. He still thought it was his own idea as well. 

The assassin smiled to himself as he walked on through the bandit camp, passing through the large labyrinth of randomly cluttered tents without stopping once, paying no great attention to the sounds of raucous laughter and voices raised in argument. They were always present in this place. He thought that the position of instructor suited him very well and provided him with much greater freedom of movement than he would have been able to enjoy if stuck in one of the bandit gangs. As it was, he'd effectively drained the patrolling bandit groups of their more promising recruits, such as they were. Those young men were used to obeying orders, and unused to thinking for themselves. Which was the reason why the exercises he set them would never do them any good. Superficial similarities there might be, but being an assassin was very different from being a soldier.

_Ah, I still remember my own basic training_ , Dekaras thought a little wistfully. _What was it I used to catch those bees again? A bottle with some honey, wasn't it? Yes, that's right. Master Gorbia was pleased about me being practical rather than following some arbitrary rule or other. Those were the days. Still, these young buffoons should come in handy later, what with their blind obedience. And being able to use their training as an excuse for eccentric behavior will probably be equally useful. Assuming my real student ever deigns to make his way here._

The assassin's black eyes turned very thoughtful as he returned to the vexing problem of Edwin. The boy couldn't really afford to dally much longer. One way or another, soon he would have to make up his mind. _He never agonizes this long over his decisions_ , Dekaras thought. _Usually I have to restrain him to keep him from jumping into dangerous situations without thinking first. So why is he being so indecisive this time?_

Could Edwin be in some kind of trouble? It certainly wouldn't be the first time, and likely not the last. _But if that is the case_ , Dekaras thought, _why did he make no mention of it when we last met? He's always trusted me before. Why not now?_ He sighed quietly. The boy had always been difficult at times, but nothing like this. There was something really worrying going on, and he didn't like it one bit. 

Unbidden, a memory came to him then, a memory from just before their departure from Thay. A woman's face, proud and beautiful, dark eyes deep and mysterious. She hadn't wished for anybody else to see, but she had been truly concerned, not at all her usual confident self. _Promise me_ , she had said. _Promise me that you will look after him, my Wolf, and that you both will come back safe. I…don't think I could survive if anything happened. To either of you._

_Of course_ , he had said. _You must know I will do whatever it takes to keep him from harm, even at the cost of my own life. Though I certainly don't expect things to go that far. I promise you, beloved. I will protect him as long as there is a spark of life still left in my body, and I would do so even without your request. You need not fear._

_I do not. Not as long as you are with him. But I shall sorely miss you both. I think I'm going to need something to remember you by, my Wolf._

_Oh? Such as what?_

_Such as this._

Pleasant as the memory of those last farewell kisses was, it wouldn't do to dwell overmuch on it. He still hadn't decided what to do about Edwin. _I think I'm going to have to make contact with him soon_ , Dekaras thought. _Yes, as soon as this night's work is done I'll start making the arrangements. Surely by now the boy must have made some kind of progress._

The sun had set by now and the shadows were starting to lengthen, creating deep pools of darkness between the cooking fires and the tents. The bandits went about their business, most of them eagerly heading for the strong smells of food. The assassin gratefully melted into the shadows, becoming more or less invisible. Now he'd be able to move a little faster, and without risk of getting interrupted. His sharp-featured face took on a look of intense concentration as he approached his goal. The command tent. Through a combination of luck and careful eavesdropping he'd managed to learn about the meeting that was about to take place there tonight, and he fully intended to listen in. The guard outside the door was easily avoided. The man never heard the assassin slip by him, quiet as a ghost. And as for seeing him - well that idea was equally ludicrous.

There was a wooden platform by the side of and below the command tent, a sort of storage area holding many chests and boxes. _I'm sure it can manage to hold me as well_ , Dekaras thought and carefully lifted the board he'd loosened previously. Slipping into the dark space inside took some maneuvering, but he'd been in tighter spots before. The sewers of a particularly difficult target came to mind. The area below the platform was dark and smelled heavily of earth, but there was a faint glimmer of light ahead. Another board was moved aside, as gently as possible. And then the assassin was inside the command tent, in precisely the spot he'd planned to be. He was hidden behind a pair of large chests standing close to the wall of the tent, able to observe without being seen. And there was a lot to observe indeed. 

There were banners on the wall, the symbols of the Chill and the Black Talons displayed as proudly as those of any knight. Many chests and boxes lined the walls, loot taken in the bandits' latest raids. There was even a pile of exotic red carpets in one corner. On a small table there lay a map of the Sword Coast, stuck full of little pins indicating troop movements. A pair of simple chairs stood next to it.

Taugosz Tenhammer was there, a large man carrying the hammer that had helped provide his name. A hard man he was, with the look of a man made from stone, body and soul. He glared angrily at Ardenor Crush, the leader of the Chill. The hobgoblin had a contemptuous look on his leathery orange face, and he kept cleaning his long and dirty nails with a wicked-looking dagger. The Chill and the Talons might work together, but there was no love lost between them.

Then there was Tazok himself, believed by most to be the true leader of the bandits. Dekaras knew better. The ogre was impressive, larger than any he'd seen before, as well as smarter. But he was still an ogre, and on the previous occasion when the assassin had managed to listen in to him, he'd mentioned the 'big boss'. Today the big boss himself had apparently arrived.

There were two strange men in the tent. The first was a mage, a gaunt man wearing black. He was currently busy examining the protective wards around the tent. As he turned his face became visible. It was an intelligent face, as well as a hard one, with no obvious emotion showing on the outside. And the sunken eyes were hollow, but strangely eager as well, the eyes of a man living for one thing only.

The second stranger was the one who truly dominated the room, even without saying anything. A huge warrior, a man of powerful build. He was pacing the carpet, moving with an amount of grace uncommon in a man his size, particularly since he was also wearing heavy armor. _Rather…gaudy armor_ , Dekaras thought with some surprise. _Not that I'm an expert on platemail, but those spikes can't be very practical. He'll be lucky if he doesn't accidentally impale one of his own allies soon_. Nevertheless, it couldn't be denied that this man was the real power in the room. It was evident in his every movement, as well as in the quiet menace that radiated from his armored form and was accentuated by a pair of glowing golden eyes, the only facial feature visible behind the visor of his great helm.

"Winski", the armored man said in a deep voice. "Are the wards in place?"

The mage nodded. "They are", he said. "No one outside this tent can hear anything we say."

"Good", the warrior said. Then he turned to his underlings. "You know why I am here", he said without further preamble. "I am dissatisfied with your progress. With Mulahey dead it is imperative that your raids become more effective than they are at the moment. We need to make certain the only iron in this region is the one flowing out of the Cloakwood."

Taugosz cleared his throat, looking nervous. "Yes sir, Sarevok sir", he said. "It's just that…" He fell instantly quiet as the glowing eyes fixed on him. The only sound in the tent was Tenhammer's heavy breathing and the faint creaking of Sarevok's armor as he approached his lieutenant.

"Did I give you leave to speak?" Sarevok asked in an almost mild voice.

"No sir, but…"

"Then don't." A large mailed fist drew back almost lazily, and then slammed into the Black Talon leader's face, breaking his nose with a loud crunch. Taugosz was unable to hold back a grunt of pain, and he staggered backwards, pressing a hand to his heavily bleeding face. Tazok and Ardenor Crush chuckled in their harsh, inhuman voices, but settled down as those golden eyes turned to them.

"And that goes for you two as well", Sarevok went on as if nothing had happened. "Don't ever make the mistake of thinking yourselves irreplaceable. Any of you." He continued to deliver his instructions, detailing the frequency of the raids he wanted the bandits to make, as well as the areas where he wanted them to concentrate their efforts. Eventually he was finished and dismissed his subordinates. Tazok, Crush and Taugosz left, and seemed very happy to be able to do so still alive. Only the mage, Winski, remained behind.

"Are you quite satisfied?" Winski said and gave Sarevok a critical look. "Or would you like to go and terrorize somebody else? It isn't as if we have anything better to do."

In his hiding-place Dekaras raised his eyebrows with surprise. That was something new. This mage didn't seem cowed by his leader, nothing like the others. That mixture of awe and fear wasn't present in his voice. In fact, that particular tone of voice sounded rather familiar…

Sarevok chuckled in a low voice. "You don't ever give up, do you my mentor? You still insist on treating me like a runny-nosed brat whenever you think I deserve it."

_So that's it_ , Dekaras thought. _I should have guessed. Pity the circumstances aren't different or I would probably have enjoyed having a word with that wizard. Exchanging trade secrets so to speak_.

Winski shrugged. "It is good for you", he said. "You are an extremely powerful man, but you aren't a god yet. You need to remember that, and if you don’t, I'm going to keep reminding you."

"And you need to remember who makes the decisions, and who could cut you in half where you stand."

"Don't be childish", the mage said with a snort. "You know you wouldn't do that."

_Oh no?_ Dekaras thought. _I'm not all that certain, my wizard friend. That young man seems rather unstable to me. Push him too hard and he may just push back._

There was a brief pause. "Perhaps", Sarevok said, his voice considering. "We will see. And now, take us home. I still need to see about the disposal of my dear, dear sister and her little friends. I will allow nobody to stand in my way, Winski. Remember that." The wizard didn't answer. He simply chanted a spell, his face even grimmer than before. Blue light flared up around him and Sarevok, and then they were gone.

Dekaras lingered behind for a few moments, thinking about what he had seen and heard. So that was Sarevok, the one that Edwin had mentioned as the deadly enemy of their own target, Zaerini. A fascinating man, and a dangerous one. _But all men die_ , the assassin thought with a thin smile. _Even the dangerous ones._ As he exited the tent, he pondered the problem further. As a traveling companion of Sarevok's chosen enemy Edwin had effectively made himself a target. While there wasn't an immediate threat, clearly something needed to be done to even the odds a little. And that meant that his own best course of action would probably be to learn as much as he could of the warrior, once this business with the bandits was done.

_Knowledge is power_ , Dekaras thought and slipped into the shadows once again, eagerly breathing in the cool night air. He brushed off a few spiders that had accompanied him out from under the platform and started making a mental file on Sarevok, as he always did when faced with a difficult target. The more one knew, the easier the task became. Dekaras was of the firm belief that there was no such thing as an untouchable target. As long as a person wasn't a god, there would still be a way of getting at him. It might be extremely dangerous and difficult; it might take more than person. That didn't make it impossible, it just meant you had to be very careful. And if you couldn't do something yourself that didn't mean that nobody could. _Even Elminster himself has to sleep sometimes_ , the assassin thought to himself, remembering an old intellectual problem that he had frequently amused himself with. _One day somebody will remind him of that. As for Sarevok, I think he should have paid better attention to his teacher. No matter what he might think he is no god, but I will give him the honor of being a very interesting challenge. And I have always enjoyed a challenge._


	22. Reading and Reptiles

**In The Cards 22 – Reading and Reptiles**

_The talented Reader may gain much information from the Cards, sometimes even being able to coax information out of his or her enemies. This will not always work though, and sometimes it may be highly dangerous to try._

_Excerpt from 'The Chaltar Deck Of Cards - An Introduction'_

There was singing everywhere. Zaerini had liked Gullykin from the start, with its round and cozy houses, the friendly halfling faces meeting her everywhere and the constant smell of food cooking in one place or another. She liked the halflings as well, she realized. They were friendly, open and accepting, living their own quiet lives without bothering anybody else. And they loved singing. In trying to celebrate their very own Heroes they'd really made an effort to entertain. The songs were mostly about their own, everyday lives, concerning food and drink, the changing of the seasons, friends and family. Zaerini loved them. To be able to forget about grand, heroic deeds and dark destinies, even for a moment, was a true blessing. And there was something about the cheerful faces and happy voices around her that almost made her forget about the darkness in her past and future, that almost made her able to pretend that she was a carefree child once more. 

The half-elf leaned back against the wall of the house and closed her eyes. She was sitting on a low bench, trying to take in all of the songs at once. Softpaws was sleeping on her lap, a pleasant warmth against her legs. One song in particular was attracting her attention now, the words standing out in her mind as if written in fire.

_All that anybody needs  
Is a friend or two, and a friend like you  
Not glory or great deeds  
Just a friend or two, just a friend like you_

_When it's dark outside and you're feeling cold  
No need to be, with a friend like me  
If your body's young, but your soul is old  
You can still be free, with a friend like me_

_We might seem a strange pair  
But we don't see it thus  
Let them wonder, what do we care?  
For the bond is strong between friends like us_

The bard smiled to herself. That song felt true on more than one level. Her own friends certainly were a mismatched group, and as for these halflings she could well imagine them making friends with just about anybody. They were also highly insistent on every one of their guests joining in the singing and partying. Imoen had eagerly done so of course, and Khalid hadn't been hard to convince. Jaheira had literally been dragged onto the large table that served as a stage, but she had turned out to have a nice voice and now it didn't seem as if she was ever going to come down. As for Edwin, he had proved surprisingly cooperative. Last Rini had seen him he'd been doing some simple magic to entertain a group of awestruck and round-eyed halfling children, enjoying himself tremendously by the looks of it.

Rini sighed quietly. She'd been doing plenty of entertaining herself, and right now it felt good to simply relax. 

"What are you doing?"

Well, so much for that. Zaerini opened her eyes and gave Edwin a tired smile that quickly gave way to a yawn. "Sorry", she said. "I'm a little tired. How did you ever manage to escape from your doting admirers?"

The wizard laughed quietly. "I told them that if they were to go ask the druid to tell them a story, I'd show them some fireworks later."

Rini blinked. Jaheira and storytelling didn't seem to match very well. Then she latched onto the second part of the statement. "Fireworks?" she asked. "You can make fireworks? I love fireworks! Back in Candlekeep, there was this old wizard who came by once, and he showed me and Immy some. I've always wished I could see some more."

"Then so you shall", Edwin immediately said, and then he suddenly seemed to get very interested in his own feet. "That is, how could I not take this opportunity to display the triumph of my powerful intellect over mere matter? The art of making fireworks is very tricky, you know, but I've studied it carefully. You can't afford to make mistakes or you risk blowing yourself up. (I’m sure I could have been even more skilled had I been allowed to practice from an earlier age. Some people just don't understand an inquisitive nature. And it's not as if we needed that wall anyway.)"

Zaerini found herself staring at the wizard's hands. At least he seemed to still have all his fingers. Nice hands, by the way. Strong but nimble, long fingers. 

_I'm not surprised you know_ , Softpaws remarked. The black cat raised her head from where she had been sleeping on her mistress' lap and watched the half-elf with bright green eyes.

_About what?_

_That the male likes fireworks. Bright flashes of light and loud noises. What's wrong with some peace and quiet?_

_Don't be grumpy. It's a two-legs thing._

"What did she say?" Edwin asked, sounding curious.

"Oh", Rini said and twirled a lock of her flame-red hair around her finger as she tried to think of a good answer. "She says that…that she thinks you're probably great with fireworks."

_That's what **you** seem to think, kitten. You already asked him to show you some, remember? No getting out of it now._

_Oh, just stop it._

"She does?" Edwin said. He looked very pleased as he sat down on the bench next to the half-elf. "What a very clever cat." He reached out to pet the cat and Zaerini was highly surprised to see her familiar arch her back under his touch, purring loudly. Then Softpaws actually settled herself on the wizard's lap to grant him easier access.

_Oh my_ , the cat purred. _Your wizard really knows how to use his hands. Very pleasant, this._

_It is? Er, I mean…who cares? And he's not **my** wizard._

_Whatever you say, kitten. Ooooh! This is divine, you know. You should ask him to do the same to you. I'm sure you'd love it as much as I do._

Rini felt heat rising in her cheeks. Her familiar was currently lying on her back in Edwin's lap, all four feet in the air, purring loudly as the wizard stroked her belly. _Somehow I think he'd be a little more shocked if I made that sort of request. As if I ever would._

_Your loss, kitten. You have no idea what you're missing here. My entire body is tingling._

"So", Zaerini said, her voice a little bit too loud as she tried to shut out the words of her familiar, "got any plans for the rest of the evening? Er…that is…I mean that I think I should do another foretelling. It's been a while, and it could be useful to find out which way we should go from here. I'd like you to help me. That is, if you don't mind."

"As you wish", Edwin said, looking a little surprised. "Did you mean right now?" He kept petting the cat as he spoke.

_Sure you won't change your mind, kitten?_ Softpaws asked, purring even more loudly than before. _This feels sooo good. Have my whiskers gone curly yet?_

"No! I mean yes! I mean…yes, I think I want to do it right now. The reading. Yes. I…I've been sitting for so long; I think I've got a crick in my back."

_So why don't you ask him to pet you a little? That should do the trick._

_Softy, I'm warning you!_

"Very well", Edwin said and gave the bard a very curious look. "If you say so. Though you seem rather nervous. Are you sure you're all right?"

"I'm fine", Zaerini said as she rose from the bench. "Softpaws is being silly. Nothing to worry about."

In the end they settled upon Jenkal's Burrow, since he was unlikely to come back and disturb them. The traitorous halfling had been clapped in irons and taken away long since. But the house was still warm, and once Rini lit a few candles she had all the light she could wish for. She sat down at the table, and then quickly realized that sitting on a chair made for halflings had been a bad mistake. The chair splintered and broke, unceremoniously dumping her onto the floor.

"Allow me to recommend the floor", Edwin said with a crooked smile. He hadn't even bothered with trying the chairs. "Flat, hard and above all solid. The seating-place of choice when visiting a halfling household. Never goes out of style. (And you're also spared bumping your head on the ceiling.)"

"I see your point", Zaerini said and pushed the sad remains of the chair out of the way. "Well, at least Jenkal won't be coming back to complain about my breaking his furniture." She took out her Chaltar deck and started shuffling the cards as she spoke. "Here's what we'll do. I want you to keep an eye on me while I'm doing the reading. If I seem to go too deep, wake me up. I don't care how you do it. And if I speak out loud, try to remember what I say, in case I'm not able to do so myself. Got it?"

The wizard nodded.

"Fine. Let's do it then."

Zaerini spread the cards out on the table, watching them intently. Show me what I need to know of the immediate future, she thought. The Serpent first, flanked by Death. Then the Hermit. Further off lay the Beast, the Knight of Swords and the Rogue.   
-  
The cards were swirling, spinning like falling stars. Once again Zaerini found herself in a world of smoke and shadows, and the cards took on living presence as the rose to greet her. The Serpent. Massive coils encircled her, green and scaly, holding her down. She couldn't see the serpent's head, but she knew, somehow, she knew, that to look at it would mean death.

"Yessssss", a hissing voice spoke out of the darkness. "Death. But there issss essscape from the death of my eyessss, if you know the way". The body of the giant snake suddenly evaporated, turned into green smoke that drifted away. "Releasssse isss posssible…"

The Hermit came next, a tall and emaciated figure cloaked in gray. Silent, unmoving, he held a heavy book close to his chest. Then he turned his head and Zaerini could see his face. As gray as his robes and cloak it was, a skull with the skin stretched taut across it. Only the dull red glimmer of the sunken eyes hinted at the life that had long since fled. "Help…me", the shade moaned. "Lost…all lost now. Help me find it…and I…shall help you…in return."

"What is lost?" the half-elf asked, wondering that she was able to keep her voice steady. "How can I help you? And how can you help me?"

"Knowledge…knowledge lost. Help me…and knowledge…shall be your reward." The wraith sighed deeply and seemed to fold into itself, then disappeared entirely.

The bard turned, fearing what would come next. The Beast reared up in front of her, a massive and deadly shape, horned and tusked. As before it carried with it the heavy smell of blood and the screams of the dying. To her surprise it did not attack her as she had expected. "Friends may pass, where foes must fall", it growled. "Friends…may pass." It raised its massive arm in greeting and stood motionless. Rini passed by it with more than a little trepidation, expecting for the blow to fall at any moment. But it never came.

The Knight of Swords paced back and forth, a restless mountain of metal and deadly intent. Glowing golden eyes pierced the half-elf's heart as she approached. "Not yet, little sister", the armored shape spoke. "Not yet. The time is not now. You will not find me there, though that is the road you must take. But we will meet again. Oh yes. We will meet."

"When? Where? Tell me that Sarevok! WHEN?!"

A low and deadly chuckle came from beneath the dark helmet, those golden eyes flared up with sudden fire. "When the time is come, little sister. Now run along…and play."

The bard gritted her teeth, furious at the phantom's taunting words. She was about to rush after the large warrior who was now striding away from her, heedless of the danger. But then she stopped. There was something…the feeling of eyes upon her back, close behind her. Or were they in front of her? Somebody was there. Somebody dangerous. She could feel it in the pounding of her heart, the dryness of her mouth.

Zaerini turned around. Only shadows everywhere around her, deep shadows. Nothing to be seen. But she knew that somebody else was here. "Where are you?" she called out. "Why are you watching me?"

For a moment only the silence answered her. And then there was a voice, a low and threatening voice. "You?" it said. "I wasn't watching you, not at the moment. Sorry to disappoint you, but you're not even my primary concern." It was impossible to tell which direction the voice was coming from, or even if it was near or far. And who was it that it reminded her of? She couldn't tell.

"Who are you then?" she asked.

Again a moment's silence. "Nice try", the voice said, sounding rather sarcastic. "You didn't really think I would tell you all my secrets, just like that? For shame, I truly expected more from you." Zaerini still couldn't see the speaker, but she thought she could feel him smile to himself. Very annoying, she decided. "A word of warning", the voice continued. "I am not your enemy, at least not yet. I suggest you try your best to keep things that way."

"How can I?" the bard asked, feeling more irritated by the moment. "I don't even know who you are!" But there was no answer, and the feeling of being watched was gone. Whoever had been there had clearly departed further into the shadows. And the shadows were falling away, leaving her behind. There was a voice speaking to her again, and it was a familiar one.

"Are you all right?" 

Zaerini blinked and saw Edwin watching her across the table, looking rather worried. He was also holding her hands, she realized, holding them tightly enough that she'd almost lost all sensation in her fingers. When she moved them a little he hurriedly let go.

"I'm…I'm fine", the half-elf said. "Really, I am."

"You were gone a long time", Edwin said. "I thought I'd better try to bring you back. (Even if I'm not sure what the best method would have been if shouting failed. Somehow I don't think cold water in the face would have been appreciated.)"

"Yes, well, you were right to do so. But I did learn some interesting things." Rini paused. "Now I just have to figure out what they all mean, and something tells me that's going to be the difficult part."

"Hey, guys! Wait till you hear this!" 

"Yes, Immy?" Zaerini said. Her friend had burst into Jenkal's house like a pink typhoon and was currently bouncing up and down on her feet, obviously ready to burst with excitement. "What's up?"

"I've found us a quest! A really good one too. But I'll let her tell you herself." The thief opened the door and spoke to someone outside. "It's all right, you can come in now."

A middle-aged halfling woman stepped inside the room and watched the adventurers with some distrust. She was a sturdy woman whose reddish-brown hair was beginning to gray slightly, and she had a very firm look on her face. "I'm Rosie", she said. "Rosie Boddin. So, you're heroes, are you? Well, I don't know about heroes and adventurers, they remind me too much of my no-good little sister. But you're good folk, or so the Mayor says, and you may be able to help me."

"Er…perhaps", Rini said, feeling a little stunned by this flow of words. "What exactly is it that you want us to do?"

"I want you to find my daughter", Rosie said and tapped her foot irritably against the floor. "Silly girl has been listening to her aunt's 'adventure' stories far too much, and now she's run off to become one too. I want you to find her and bring her back."

"Find her and bring her back?" Edwin asked, looking incredulous. "What if she doesn't want to? Are we supposed to tie her up?"

"Of course not!" Rosie sighed. "Maybe I can't make her stay, but at least I want her to come back and show herself to be alive. She was supposed to travel north to Baldur's Gate, and it's dangerous country around here. I told her to take the road, but it wouldn't surprise me if she went cross-country instead. There's plenty of basilisks north of here, and when my baby didn't send me any letters like she'd promised I knew something was wrong!" Tears started trickling down her cheeks.

"Yes", Edwin tried, "well…"

"I just want my baby back!" More tears.

"Sure, we'll help you if we can", Zaerini said and patted the weeping woman on the back. "I can't promise anything though. What's your daughter's name, and what does she look like?"

Rosie hauled out an enormous handkerchief embroidered with daisies and loudly blew her nose. "Her name is Alora, and she's the prettiest lass you ever saw. Merry and bright as the sun, always happy and smiling. It's a shame she dyed in those purple streaks in her pretty brown hair, but they'll wash out eventually."

Zaerini gave Imoen's pink locks a meaningful glance. "Hope springs eternal", she said. "Then she turned to Edwin. "What do you say? I say we do this, and it was Immy's idea in the first place, but basilisks are pretty dangerous. If you want to back out, I won't blame you."

The wizard sighed. "Very well", he said. "If you feel you must. (There's just something about halflings that gets to me. Probably some sort of inborn weakness in me.)"

Having made up their minds, the adventurers went to search for their two missing companions. Khalid needed to be forcibly rescued from a group of young halfling girls. They all had flowers in their hair and were wearing their prettiest dresses, and they kept swooning over him and telling him how 'incredibly brave' he was. The unfortunate man was very grateful when Imoen walked up and told them that he was needed elsewhere.

It took some time to find Jaheira, but eventually Rini heard her voice from some distance away. "And so Mr Spruce eventually decayed, with the help of Mr Worm and all his little friends and became good clean earth from which new trees would grow in time. The End."

Immediately a chorus of piping voices spoke up. "What kind of story is that?" "No fun!" "I want a story with monsters and mages and magic swords!" "And I want a story with dragons and princesses! How come there were no dragons?"

"But", Jaheira tried, "it is a very educational story…"

"Ick!" "Borrrring!" "Let's go play in the attic of my pa's house instead, that'll be much more fun." Zaerini, Imoen, Edwin and Khalid were almost run down as a horde of small halfling children streamed past them, chattering happily to each other. Once the onslaught was over, they found Jaheira sitting on her own at a table, a puzzled look on her face.

"I still cannot see why they did not like it", the druid complained and scratched at her golden-brown hair. "I even inserted a lightning strike to make it more exciting."

Jaheira and Khalid both approved of helping Rosie, though Jaheira pointed out that they should take the time to prepare properly. "Basilisks are highly dangerous", she pointed out. "I wish to see if the local temple offers any kind of protection against their gaze." As it turned out, it didn't. But there were some magic scrolls that would restore a person turned to stone from a basilisk's gaze, and these the party bought. The following morning, they headed north, in search of Rosie's daughter.

The bones were the first thing out of the ordinary that Zaerini noticed. Huge bones, larger than those of any horse, littering the dry sands and sharp rocks of the desert where the party now found themselves. Bleached white by sand and wind they were, with broken ribs pointing accusingly at the open sky and skull staring at her from the ground with their empty sockets. "What are those things?" she wondered. "Dragons?"

"No", Jaheira said. "They are not large enough. Some ancient beast, I would guess, something that no longer walks the land."

"And you won't hear any complaints from me about that", Edwin said as he picked up a sharp tooth as large as his hand. "No indeed. (Though these bones would most likely make a very powerful ally if reanimated. Pity I don't know that spell yet.)"

"Can you not feel the least bit sorry that the Balance was disrupted enough to allow this species to die out?"

"Whatever for? Seems to me if they died out it's because they were too weak to survive, and so your precious Balance regulates itself without your interference. (I really wouldn't want to meet whatever killed them however.)"

"Speaking of beasts", Imoen said in a quiet voice. "Look over there."

Three large animals were sunning themselves some distance away, beside one of the skeletons. Brown and scaly reptiles they were, with pale yellow bellies and eight stumpy legs each, though one of them was larger than the other two. They had ridged backs and tails, and as one of them opened its mouth to yawn it displayed an impressive number of very sharp teeth.

"Oh d-d-dear", Khalid whispered. "Let's all be v-very quiet a-and perhaps they won't n-n-notice us." Unfortunately, he happened to trip over a large jawbone at that point and fell to the ground in a clutter of metal. The basilisks all snorted eagerly and raised their heads. Then they started shuffling across the sand towards the adventurers.

"Too late", Jaheira said in a grim voice and raised one of her arms to cover her eyes while drawing her scimitar with the other. "Remember, whatever you do, do not look them in the eyes."

The battle was a nightmare. Zaerini had never really thought about just how important it was to be able to focus on your enemy, it being so self-evident. But now she was forced to fight more or less blindly, only daring a careful squint at her opponents to make sure her sword was pointed at them and not her friends. She swung it wildly, with none of the precision she had managed to acquire. She couldn't cast any spells either, she didn't dare look at the basilisks long enough. Edwin had an advantage the bard lacked, however. A howling horde of hobgoblins burst forth out of thin air, summoned into being by the Conjurer's wand. They immediately charged the closest basilisk, and while a couple of them were instantly petrified the others managed to make a few dents in the hard skin.

A loud screeching noise and a gasp of pain to her right caused Rini to turn around. What she saw made her blood turn cold. Imoen was grappling with the largest basilisk, trying to hold off its powerful jaws with her sword. But she was tiring, and now the sharp teeth had grazed her arm, drawing blood. Imoen's face was pale and pained, she still had her sword raised, but for how long? _Poison_ , Zaerini thought. _A basilisk's bite is poison_. She attacked, forgetting all prudence as well as her own safety. "Leave her alone!" she yelled. "Don't you dare hurt her!" The sword scratched against the horny hide of the basilisk, making the beast turn to snap at the half-elf. And then she met its eyes.

Large eyes, a pale green color that was actually quite beautiful in its animal simplicity. Unblinking, hard and cold as stone, and yet as deep as wells. She was swimming in them. Deeper. Deeper. Clear green water all around her, growing steadily darker as she went deeper, pressing in on her. All noises seemed so far away, distorted and strange. And the water…went…black…

"Zaerini? Zaerini, wake up, child."

"Wh-what?" Rini managed as she tried to open her eyes. Her eyelids felt as heavy as stone. "Gorion?"

"Not Gorion, child. It is I, Jaheira."

"Jaheira?" The bard coughed violently and felt sweet air rush into her lungs. Had she been holding her breath? She couldn't remember. Finally, she managed to open her eyes, and met another pair, green as the leaves of the forest. Not the reptilian eyes of the basilisk these, they were filled with worry and relief. 

"At last!" The druid's smile was open and warm, and she gave a deep sigh. Then she immediately collected herself and gave Zaerini a stern look. "Have you any idea how worried we all were? Do not ever do a thing like that again! I promised Gorion to look after **you** , not your statue."

_The druid is right_ , Softpaws remarked. _That was most unpleasant, kitten. Please take better care of yourself in the future._

"My…statue? I was turned to stone?" Rini shook her head and looked about her. She still felt pretty dizzy, and she couldn't remember exactly what had happened. The basilisks all lay dead on the ground. At least that was a good thing.

"You m-m-most certainly were", Khalid said and gave her a comforting hug. "A very p-pretty statue, but we all p-prefer you as you are. L-lucky we b-b-bought those scrolls."

Zaerini suddenly remembered something. "Imoen! The poison! I saw…"

"Hey, I'm just fine", Imoen said, coming up from behind Jaheira. She was smiling, but her cheeks were moist, as if she had been crying. "Jaheira fixed me up, good as new. You've gotta stop scaring me like that, you know. You're all the family I've got, remember?"

The half-elf smiled weakly in return. "Right. I'll try. Anybody else want to tell me how stupid I was? Edwin, how about you?" Then she looked around. Not a sign of the wizard. "Where is he?" she asked, suddenly feeling a dreadful worry. "He's not…not…"

"No, no", Imoen hurriedly assured her. "He just went away a little bit, behind those rocks over there. Said something about not wanting to watch as we used the scroll."

"But why?"

"No idea. He was really weird about the whole thing. Wouldn't talk to any of us."

"I'd better go make sure he's all right", Rini said with a frown, her golden eyes concerned. "Be right back." Then she thought of something. "Who killed the basilisks, by the way? Just curious."

"Jaheira and Khalid got one each", Imoen explained. She beamed proudly. "And I killed the big one. Stabbed him right beneath the jaw. Like this, see?" She stabbed her sword into the air. "Right into the soft spot and down he went. Neat, huh?"

"Er…right. Where did you learn that sort of thing?"

Imoen shrugged innocently. "Oh, I don't know", she said. "I pick these things up here and there. Run off and fetch Edwin, why don't you? Jaheira says there are trees and shade up ahead and I'm really hot."

Zaerini nodded to her friend and then went off in search of the Red Wizard. She didn't have to go very far, fortunately. She found him behind a cluster of large rocks, standing as motionless as one of them. He was leaning his back against the cold stone, his eyes closed and his hands across his ears. He was also whispering something to himself, over and over. Rini couldn't quite make it out, but it sounded a bit like 'hastowork, hastowork, hastowork'.

"Hey, look who's here!" the bard said. Edwin didn't hear her, being too wrapped up in his own thoughts. _Looks like I'll have to resort to more drastic methods_ , Zaerini thought and tapped the wizard on the shoulder. The reaction was dramatic, to say the least. 

Edwin's eyes flew open, wide and dark like openings into the night before the world's first dawn. For a moment he stared at her as if he didn't really see her. Then he seized her by the shoulders, so tightly that it almost hurt. "Don't you ever, ever, ever do a thing like that again!" he snarled. "Are you completely witless? Haven't you got any idea of what kind of danger you were in? Do you even care?"

"That's pretty rich coming from you", Rini said, feeling irritated. "You've made a few mistakes from time to time, haven't you?"

"That's different!"

"Oh, really? How?"

"It…it just is. And…and besides, you're a Child of Bhaal, correct?"

"So?"

"So, there was a very real risk of your divine blood interfering with the process of decursing you. The others may not have the intellects to grasp the fact, but I knew there was a very real possibility of you being trapped as a statue forever! (Not that it wasn't a lovely statue, but that's hardly any consolation.)"

_So that's why he was hiding over here_ , Zaerini thought. _He was worried I wasn't going to make it…Not as heartless as you'd like to pretend, are you, my friend?_ "I see your point", she said, her voice now calm once more. "I promise I'll try to be more careful in the future, but I can't very well live my life wrapped in cotton like a fragile ornament that might break. Oh, and Edwin?"

"Yes?"

"Thanks for caring. That's really nice of you, you know." Zaerini flashed the wizard her brightest smile. "I promise I won't tell the others about it if you don't want me to. It can be our own little secret."

-*-

"What was it like being turned to stone? Come on Rini, you can tell me. Pleeeease?"

Zaerini gave her best friend an exasperated look. "Immy, I've told you already. I can't really remember anything that happened while I was a statue, all right?"

"No? Not even Eddie going down on his knees and swearing to dedicate his life to looking after you if we weren't able to turn you back?" Imoen smiled innocently, her face totally sincere.

"WHAT?!" The half-strangled screams that came from the bard and the Red Wizard caused Imoen to break out in helpless giggles. 

Edwin was livid. "I most certainly never said or did any such thing!" he protested, his face a perfect mask of outrage. "That…that sounds like something a sappy knight out of a romance novel would do! (All I said was that I would make sure she didn't accidentally wind up in an art collection or get stolen by robbers or something.)"

"Sure you did", Imoen said, wiping the tears of mirth from her face. "Hey, don't put yourself down. You might make a very good Romantic Hero, you know. Practice making flowery speeches and writing poetry and you'll do fine."

"I don't want to be a Romantic Hero! Are you quite insane? (Somebody has been giving her sugar. When I find out who it was, I'll curse them into another dimension, where they can scream with infinite pain for all eternity.)"

"We probably should do something about your accent though", Imoen said, thoughtfully rubbing her nose. "It's not the traditional one for Romantic Heroes, you know."

"Cut it out, Immy", Rini interrupted. "I don't know about you, but I happen to like his accent just fine." For some reason this made Imoen giggle even harder. "What? I was just making an objective observation, that's all." The bard turned to see Edwin look like somebody had just hit him over the head with a club. "And what's wrong with you? It was a compliment, not an offer of marriage, so you don't have to look that terrified." She suddenly remembered something. "It was nice of you to want to take care of my statue by the way. Out of curiosity, what would you have done with it? I hope you weren't planning to use it as a coat-hanger or forget about it and let it collect dust in some attic or something." 

"No", Edwin said. "No, I wasn't. (Forgetting, it seems, is not an option here.)" And he would say nothing more on the subject.

The adventurers moved on, now passing into a forested area. It was certainly a welcome relief to get away from that unpleasant desert, Zaerini thought. Maybe she wasn't a forest person, but at least she could appreciate the shade. Unfortunately, it seemed that others had had the same idea. In a small clearing four people were sitting down to rest, other adventurers by the looks of it. The one who seemed to be their leader was a dark-haired woman dressed all in white. Rather an unpractical color for traveling, Zaerini thought. Her own black garments were much better that way. The woman had a sword resting across her knees, but she wasn't wearing any armor at all. A magic user, perhaps? Her companions were all men. An archer, a swordsman, and one very large and brutish fellow who was busy bashing nuts open with a very pretty morningstar. 

As Zaerini and her friends approached the woman looked up. "Hey Lindin", she said. "look over here, we've run across some travelers." She then gifted Zaerini with a condescending smile. "Hey there, my name's Kirian. Me and my buds are an adventuring band. You look to be the same, except a little worse for wear." She snickered loudly and her three friends joined in with some hearty guffaws. "Still learning the ropes of the business, eh? I'm sure I could show you some nice moves. My name is feared and dreaded in my own circles."

"I'm sure it is", Rini said, her golden eyes sparkling. "All the other cockroaches probably fear you'll give them a bad name with your boasting."

Kirian snarled and got to her feet, her companions following her example. "Why you dirty little half-breed!" she spat. "I'll split your skull in two and scoop out your brains!"

"Oh, is it brains you want?" Edwin said. The wizard had folded his hands in the sleeves of his robes and was giving Kirian a very cold sneer. "We'd lend you some, but you probably wouldn't know what to do with them anyway."

"Exactly", Jaheira agreed. "And as for half-breeds…I suggest you take that back right now. You are starting to make me angry, and I have a good mind to provide these trees with some much-needed fertilizer." 

"That does it", Kirian screeched. "Hey Baerin, Peter, Lindin! I think these little pipsqueaks think they can take us. Let's teach them the folly of messing with real Waterhavians! GET THE…." Her last sentence was abruptly cut off as a large ball of roaring fire landed on her head, making her scream with pain as it seared her flesh. Zaerini jerked her head around to see Edwin blow some smoke off his finger. The Red Wizard winked at her and smiled slightly.

The battle was brief and furious. The Waterhavians had been wounded by the fireball, but they were still dangerous. Edwin summoned a small group of goblins to distract the archer, and that gave Jaheira time to cast a spell of her own. Lightning struck from a clear blue sky, killing the swordsman instantly. Khalid tackled the fellow with the morningstar, a cleric as it turned out. Though he did his best to call on his divine patron the priest soon fell, he was no match for the skilled blows of the half-elf and the incessant rain of arrows fired at him by Imoen. 

Zaerini found herself face to face with Kirian herself. Magic sang in her veins as she cast a spell, bringing forth her Mirror Images. _Let's see you match that_ , she thought. Then she wished she hadn't as the other woman cast the same spell, greeting the half-elf with four identical versions of the same cocky smile. A Magic Missile managed to take most of them down, but by then Kirian was casting a spell of her own. Lightning streaked from her hands, and Rini threw herself to the ground, rolling to get away. Poor Khalid was not so lucky and was struck in the back. He fell to the ground, dead or unconscious, Jaheira at once rushing to his side.

Rini was swearing quietly to herself as she got to her feet. Her acrobatic move had landed her behind Kirian, the perfect place to be. As another Magic Missile fired by Edwin destroyed the last illusion Zaerini moved, lunging at the other woman with her sword. It gave Kirian a powerful swat across the rump, one that sent her sprawling onto her stomach.

"YOW!" Kirian screamed. "I'll get you for that, half-br…" Then she fell silent as the sword was driven into her body, nailing her to the ground. 

"Nobody calls me half-breed", Zaerini growled as she yanked her blade out of the corpse. "Do you hear me? Do you?" The bloodrage was coursing through her, and this time she couldn't resist it. The kill in front of her wasn't enough. She wanted more death, a sea of blood to wash away all the injustices ever heaped upon her because of her mixed heritage. Memories swam through her mind, fanning the flames of her rage even higher. Children back in Candlekeep, laughing at her, pointing their fingers. Their parents forbidding them to play with her. Grownups watching her with disgust, their eyes hurting the child who was too young to understand how they could hate her so. The ones that stared at her like she was a strange animal were even worse. And that hated word, the one they always repeated…

"Rini! Rini, it's over!" The bard slowly came back to herself. All her muscles were aching, her body was covered with sweat. There was the taste of blood in her mouth, and she realized that she'd bitten herself. "It's over", Imoen's voice said. "She's dead."

Rini stared at the corpse in front of her. Yes, Kirian certainly was dead. More than dead. She was a bloody, chunky mess, barely recognizable as having once been human. "I…I'm sorry Immy", the half-elf breathed, not wanting to look her friend in the face. "I lost it. I'm so sorry." Some distance away she could hear Jaheira telling Khalid to be careful not to rise too quickly. Edwin was muttering something about 'lack of worthy opponents'. So, they were all alive then. That was a relief. At least she hadn't killed them in her madness, like poor Brage had his own family.

And then she felt Imoen's arm around her shoulder, pulling her close. "Hey", the human girl said, her voice filled with nothing but love. "I remember what things were like in Candlekeep, you know. The things that happened. I understand."

"Oh Immy. I couldn't survive without you; you do know that?"

The pink-haired thief smiled. "Don't you worry. I'm not going anywhere. What kind of a best friend would I be then, anyway? A pretty poopy one, I'd say."

"Poopy?" Rini asked, not being able to hold back a grin.

"Well…you know what I mean."

"I do. And I thank you for it. Nobody could wish for a better best friend." Imoen's face turned as bright a pink as her hair.

While they had survived the battle, it hadn't been done without some cost. Jaheira was out of healing spells, and Rini had used what she could of her own healing ability as well. It seemed unsafe to go much further into unknown territory without resting first, so the adventurers decided to move a little distance away from the scene of the battle and then set up camp. They didn't get very far into the forest before they heard yet another strange voice addressing them, a harsh and gritty one. "Wait", it said, "me no want fight, me Korax, me friend!"

Zaerini stared with surprise at the speaker. Vaguely humanoid in form, its flesh was gray and rotting, its fangs long and sharp and there were things beneath its hideous yellow nails that she was really glad she couldn't identify. "You want to be our friend?" she asked. "Well, that's very nice of you. Er…isn't it a little unusual for a ghoul though? I mean, don't you usually want to eat live people?"

The ghoul's pale eyes glittered with unshed tears. "Khorax so very lonely", he sobbed. "Me not want kill nice peoplessss, but nassssty mean ones not want be Khorax' friends, even when he asksss nicely. Then Khorax killsss them and eatssss them and sssucksss the tasssty juicccesss from their marrowssss, oh yes."

"Oh", Rini said. "That's…uh…reasonable."

"Well, I think it's sad", Imoen said. "Poor Khorax. We'll be your friends. Right, guys?"

"But…", Jaheira started to say. Edwin cut her off. "Of course", he said. "We are very friendly. (Fighting it would serve no real purpose, and an extra pawn can do no harm.)"

"Right", Khalid agreed. "F-f-friends. That's u-us."

"Oh goody!" Khorax squealed. "Me will be good boy, me promisssse. Me will help you with anything you need." He jumped up and down with glee, giggling and chortling to himself. Then, before Zaerini had the time to react, he hugged her tightly and planted a slobbery kiss onto her mouth. The stench was bad enough that she almost threw up. The taste wasn't any better. "Nice Mistressss!" Khorax said. "Ssssweet Mistressss! Khorax helpsss nice Mistresss and friendsss. Happy Khorax not lonely no more!" He gave Rini an adoring look. "You maybe wantsss be more than friendsss with handssssome Khorax? Me gotsss thisss nice engagement ring somewhere, Khorax found it one day after he had a really bad belly ache. Khorax alwaysss eatsss too quickly, doesn't always notice thessse thingsss… What you say?"

"Ah…", Rini managed, hoping her reaction didn't show on her face. "Er…Khorax, you're a nice guy. A very nice guy. And…and this has nothing to do with you. It's me. I…I just don't think I'm ready for that sort of thing yet. Let's just be friends."

The ghoul's face fell a little, and he absentmindedly stuck his nose back on. "Oh", he said. "That's sssad. What say you other nice ladiesss?"

"I'm a married woman", Jaheira said, quickly enough that she almost stumbled over her own words.

"I've got a boyfriend", Imoen said. "Sorry. He's really jealous." The ghoul sighed mournfully, but he didn't press the issue.

"Boyfriend?" Zaerini mouthed to her friend as they moved on. "What's this then?"

Imoen smiled mysteriously. "Sorry", she said. "It's a secret."

"Why?"

"Well", Imoen explained, "he's a little shy, I think. It's really sweet too, the way he tries to pretend he isn't madly in love with me. And he's sooo cute!" Her grin widened and her eyes went a little unfocused. "Now I just need to find out what his name is and where he lives, and then it'll be eternal bliss."

"Right", Rini said. "Good Luck then. Er…just be careful, would you?" _Something tells me he isn't quite as interested as Immy thinks_ , she thought. _I just hope the poor man doesn't have a jealous wife. I'd really hate to have to fish my best friend out of a river for poaching on somebody else's territory._


	23. Friend, Foe, Fiancée?

**In The Cards 23 – Friend, Foe, Fiancée?**

_Prophecies are funny things. They seldom, if ever, mean exactly what you think they do. Sometimes I think they're made that way so the gods can have a good laugh over the poor mortals who try to interpret the prophecies and get themselves killed over a typo or a double meaning._

_Excerpt from 'Ruminations Of A Master Bard'_

"Uh…guys? I think you should take a look at this." Imoen looked uncharacteristically serious as she pointed at the thing that was standing some distance into the trees. At first Zaerini thought it was just a large boulder, like so many of the others in this part of the forest. Then she squinted her eyes a little and saw that it was a bear. Or rather, that it had been a bear. It stood motionless; one paw raised as if to swipe at an invisible enemy. The jaws were half-open, prepared to bite, but they never would. The bear had been turned to stone, and it had been stone for a good while. Its features were uneven, eroded by rain and wind, and there was moss growing on it.

Jaheira raised her head, looking about. For a moment she almost seemed to be sniffing the air like a hunting wolf. "Something is close by", she said. "Something…unnatural."

"Korax not unnatural", the shuffling ghoul protested. "Him part of Nature, him cleanssss foressst by eating dead thingssss."

"No, no", Jaheira hastily said. "I did not mean you, Korax. There is something else in the air."

"Though how you are able to tell is quite beyond me", Edwin muttered. "Not that I mind the undead as such, but can't the ghoul at least stay downwind of the rest of us?"

"Look", Zaerini said in a quiet voice, forestalling the impending argument. "There are more of them." And so there were. The party had now entered into a clearing, a clearing filled with statues. They were everywhere. Humans, dwarves, and elves. Warriors wielding swords or axes or bows. Robed wizards, their hands raised to cast spells they never had a chance to utter. Creatures of many races and ways of living, but with one thing in common. All of their faces were frozen into fear and dread, captured forever in that instant when they realized they were doomed. Some of the statues seemed new. Others were older, with limbs broken off, with faces worn away or with lichen growing on them.

"Strange", Edwin said in an almost casual voice. "For some reason I find myself hoping that this clearing is haunted by a fanatical sculptor, rather than…"

"Sssstrangerssss? Here?" A small shape waddled out between a statue of an armored knight and one of a man on his knees, begging for mercy. It was a gnome, a rotund little fellow wearing blue mage robes decorated with silver stars. He had a bald head and a short brown beard, and at first his face seemed friendly. But if you took a closer look at him you could see that the cheerful glint in his eyes was hollow, like light reflected from a cracked mirror. Behind him three large basilisks came shuffling out of the underbrush. "Nasssty ssstrangersss…I don't like them."

"…a madman with a fondness for dangerous pets", the Red Wizard continued. "So much for luck. (Isn't it possibly to go for five minutes without tripping over a lunatic in this part of the world?)"

"Oh d-d-dear", Khalid moaned. "N-not again…"

"Greetingssss.....", the gnome hissed. "I am Mutamin. I hope you enjoy the artwork my pretty lizards have sculpted. They sculpt with their eyessss. They sculpt when nasty travelers come by, yesssss. I don't like nassssty travelers. They should keep to the roads."

Zaerini sighed. This really wasn't shaping up to be a great day. _Oh well_ , she thought. _Might as well get it over with_. "Well, these 'nassssty travelers' don't like you much either, wacko", she said. "Listen, Mr. psycho gnome, I hope you don't take this the wrong way, but we're really not interested in your rock garden."

_Excellent kitten_ , Softpaws said with a sarcastic sound to her mental voice. _If that doesn't appease him I don't know what will._

_Ah, he's spoiling for a fight anyway. There's no way to get around it._

Korax rubbed his flaking scalp and gave the gnome a puzzled look. "Korax talkssss like thisss becaussse of shape of lipssss", he said. "What's your excusssse?"

"He's a complete and utter loony, that's what", Zaerini explained, raising her bow. "Some of them think it makes them sound impressive, particularly the ones who fancy themselves Scary Evil Wizards. What they never seem to realize is that they just sound like they have a bad speech impediment. Also, it makes them spit a lot, which is disgusting but not really very scary."

"Yeah!" Imoen agreed, tossing her head. 

"P-perhaps we should l-leave now?" Khalid asked. "B-before he…"

"Impudence!" Mutamin screamed.

"W-works that out…"

"You will go nowhere!" the mad gnome hollered. "You will join the beautiful work of art that standssss before you. You will become a piece of the art.....forever." He raised his hands to cast a spell, then yelped with sudden pain as one of Rini's poison arrows struck him in the shoulder and was followed up by a few flaming ones, courtesy of Imoen. He was still screaming when Jaheira's scimitar neatly cut through his neck. 

The basilisks charged towards the party, green eyes blazing. But Korax was in the way, and the ghoul was not affected by their petrifying gaze. Bravely the undead creature met their attacks with his own claws and was able to hold the basilisks off long enough for the adventurers to finish them off. That task was made much easier since the basilisks vainly tried using their gaze attacks on the ghoul, thus leaving themselves vulnerable. 

"Here Korax, you have this", Rini said once it was all over. She poured the healing potions she'd found on Mutamin's body down the wounded ghoul's throat, hoping they'd work on the undead. Fortunately, they did.

"Korax feelssss much better", the ghoul declared. "Nice Mistressss sooo good to poor Korax. You sure you won't change your mind about that ring?"

"Yes Korax", Zaerini sighed and pushed her red hair out of her eyes. "Quite sure." Satisfied that the ghoul was feeling better she examined the scroll she'd found on the dead wizard's body. "Here Eddie, you can have this", she said. "Stinking Cloud sounds rather similar to that Web spell I already got. Better if we split them up." 

Edwin nodded and took the scroll. He was busy examining the statues of Mutamin's poor victims, moving from one to the other. Eventually he seemed to find what he was looking for. "Aha!" he said. "This has to be the one." The statue he had settled on was one of a halfling girl. Unlike all the other ones, it didn't look scared to death. Instead it had an open and friendly smile on its round face. "I believe I've located the missing halfling", Edwin said with a triumphant smile. "Looks like she didn't get very far from home. Do we have any more of those Stone to Flesh scrolls?"

"One", Jaheira said and handed it to him. "The cleric at the temple was almost out of them. Let us hope we will not need any more."

Edwin read the scroll without answering. Once he was done Zaerini was fascinated to see what happened. A small purple dot showed up in the uniform gray surface of the statue. The color spread quickly, cold stone melting away to reveal living flesh instead. _So that's what it looked like when I was uncursed_ , she thought. _How very interesting_.

The halfling was dressed in bright purple leathers, exactly matching the broad purple streaks that had been dyed into her short brown hair. She had a very wide smile on her face, and her brown eyes sparkled merrily as she saw her rescuers. "You saved me!" she squealed in a piping voice, throwing herself at Edwin and hugging his legs tightly. "Leaping lizards, you SAVED me! Oh, you're so NICE!"

"Yes, yes", the Red Wizard said as he vainly tried to pry the chirruping halfling off his legs. "You're welcome. Now get off me. (This is so undignified.)"

"I'm so HAPPY! Happy, happy, joy, joy! Happy, happy, joy, joy!"

"Will you stop it?! (Somebody please turn her back right now. She's so sweet she could get eaten by a dragon and wind up giving it a toothache. Where's a basilisk when you need one?)"

"Would you be Alora by any chance?" Zaerini asked the halfling who promptly let go of Edwin and bounced over to greet the others. "Your Mother was worried about you, she asked us to go look for you."

"Oh yes", Alora said. "I'm Alora, and I'm going to be a Great Adventurer. My Auntie is one, though Mother doesn't like that. She says Auntie's keeping bad company, but I think she's really nice. Not that I hardly ever get to see her, but she writes me all these exciting letters… Mother's worried? Gee, I'd better go back to see her then before I go on to Baldur's Gate. Are you going to Baldur's Gate? Can I go with you? I'm a thief, and I'm really good. You don't mind thieves, do you?"

"Er…" Zaerini said, feeling more than a little stunned. "No, we don't mind. But we're not going to Baldur's Gate, at least not right now."

Alora's face fell a little. "Oh", she said. "That's too bad. Hey, maybe we'll meet up later though! Wouldn't that be great? I love making new friends! Auntie does too, you should see some of hers…"

Zaerini, hoping to keep the halfling from launching into some endless story, now briefly introduced herself and her friends, and suggested they head back towards Gullykin as it was already starting to get dark. Alora cheerfully went along with this. She seemed to have taken a particular liking to Edwin. The wizard steadfastly refused to hold her hand as she wanted him to, but she kept close by his side, watching him with adoring eyes and chattering ceaselessly.

"So, you're a mage?" she said. "I knew a mage once, but he was pretty stuffy. You're not like that."

Edwin sighed. "What makes you say that? (What is it about her anyway? She's extremely annoying but at the same time also somehow…comforting. Her company is refreshing but I am surprised I find it so.)"

Alora giggled. "If you were stuffy you wouldn't be talking to me in the first place", she said. "Stuffy people think halflings don't know anything, but I know lots of things. Auntie's been sending me these letters since I was little, telling me how to open locks and sneak about and stuff, and she's come to visit a couple of times as well to see how I was doing. She tells me all about her adventures and she says I'm very clever, and Auntie's very clever herself, so she should know, don't you think? I think so."

"Well…", Edwin said, his eyes a little glazed over.

"Anyway", Alora continued and nudged him in the side, "Everyone is basically decent once you get them to unwrinkle their faces. And I think you're really nice. Nice, nice, nice. Nice as pies. Mmmm, pies…"

"I'm not nice", Edwin protested, but the corner of his mouth quirked slightly upwards. Alora missed nothing.

"You should smile more often, Edwin", she said. "It looks good on you. Don't the rest of you think so too?"

Jaheira snorted. "If you say so. Though I think he looks more terrified than happy." Khalid chuckled wordlessly.

"Korax agresssss."

"Well, I sure think he looks good", Imoen said with a wide and mischievous grin. "How about you, Rini? What do you think?"

"Ah…" the bard said. "I…Oh look. Isn't that another basilisk over there?"

"No it's not", Alora said. "It's just a fallen log." She turned to Edwin again. "So", she said, "I have a great idea. You can be my new Best Friend! Everybody needs one, especially the people who think they don't. Auntie always says that."

"But I…" Edwin feebly protested.

"Auntie says she had to follow **her** Best Friend around for days singing happy songs before he'd agree to be her friend. Would you like me to sing to you?"

"NO!" the wizard hastily said. "Don't. Just don't. I'll be your friend. (Anything to shut her up. Come to think of it, that's probably what that other unfortunate fellow said as well.)"

"Oh goody!" The halfling gave Edwin another fierce hug and then started running around him in circles. "I've got a Best Friend, I've got a Best Friend! Wait till Auntie Poppy hears this!"

Zaerini thought Edwin looked about ready to faint. He'd gone as white as a sheet and his mouth was working soundlessly as if he was trying to say something but couldn't quite manage to form the words. She was just about to ask him what was wrong when a strange voice rang out, proud and challenging.

"Hold travelers", it said. "I challenge your best warrior to a duel." A tall woman dressed in heavy platemail and wielding a large sword stepped out of the forest with a nasty smile on her face.

_Great_ , Zaerini thought. _Yet another nutcase. And this one looks like she might be a bit difficult to crack._

"I am Shar-Teel", the strange woman said, "and I am a powerful warrior, far more so than any pathetic wimp of a man. Phaugh! Sometimes even the smell of a man makes me sick to my stomach. There's nothing I love better than beating one of those sniveling curs into submission. That, and bloodshed. I really love bloodshed. So, which one of you male worms is going to taste my steel?"

Edwin and Khalid looked at each other. "I'm sorry", Edwin said, "but I'm excused from fighting any woman who froths at the mouth as she speaks. I'm told insanity may be contagious, and I have no wish to contract it. (I'm pretty sure I have a note from my mother somewhere)." 

Khalid gave Shar-Teel a doubtful look. "I r-really don't l-l-like this", he said. "Can't we j-just t-t-try to get along?"

"I bet you'd love that", the swordswoman said with a bitter sneer. "Typical male response, they never think with their minds. Forget it! The only thing you'll get is the blade of my sword!"

"Look lady", Zaerini said. "We really have no wish to fight you, but if you keep up with that attitude there's no telling what might happen." She pointed at Jaheira who was snarling silently and had drawn her scimitar.

"You don't frighten me", Shar-Teel said with a cold sneer. "I have never been defeated yet. There is a charm on my life, a prophecy uttered when I was born. Anything that bleeds, I can kill, so the diviner said. Come at me, all at once or one at a time. You will all die. Or give me the challenger I want, and I shall spare the rest of you."

"Wait!" a gravelly voice called out. "Korax will fight pretty lady." The ghoul shuffled forward, flexing his fingers with their sharp nails and baring his yellow teeth in a grin.

"Korax?" Rini asked. "Are you sure about this? She looks pretty dangerous."

"Korax isssss sure. Him fight pretty lady, make her happy."

"WHAT?!" Shar-Teel roared. "You…you expect me to fight that…that thing?!"

Zaerini smiled a slow, lazy smile. She'd suddenly thought of something. "You said you wanted to fight a male", she said. "And Korax is male, at least I have no reason to believe otherwise." She pointed at the rotting loincloth the ghoul wore. "Though I'm sure you could ask him to let you check before the match if you really want to."

"Korax issss male! Want to see?"

"NO!" Shar-Teel hurriedly said. "That won't be necessary. I accept his challenge."

"Excellent", Rini said. "Then, I suppose it's time to share this interesting little tidbit of knowledge with you. Ghouls don't bleed." She felt a heady thrill of exhilaration at the sudden fear in the other woman's eyes as Korax lurched towards her, arms outstretched.

"Ah, what a fine day for a bloodbath", Edwin commented as Shar-Teel drew her sword. "The sun is shining; the birds are singing. The crowd goes wild at this rare opportunity to see the Ravening Psycho Hag face off with our own proud champion, the Mighty Demonic Corpse."

"Korax isssn't corpse! Korax isss ghoul!"

"My apologies", Edwin went on. "The Mighty Demonic Ghoul, I meant to say. (Picky. Never thought the undead would be that sensitive.)" He jumped backwards as Korax' sharp claws raked Shar-Teel across the cheek. "Show some consideration here, would you? I may like red, but that doesn't mean I want my clothes sticky."

Shar-Teel swung her sword, hitting Korax in the side. A deep gash opened, but the ghoul kept coming, not even seeming to feel any pain. No blood came forth. "Oooh!" Alora squeaked. "Poor Korax!" The ghoul grinned and winked at her before managing to get his arms around Shar-Teel's waist, pinning her arms to her sides.

"Ouch", Edwin said. "That has to hurt. Yes, the Mighty Demonic Ghoul is certainly showing his challenger the benefits of undeath this day, including greater strength, stamina and a breath that can stun enemies into insensibility from a great distance." There was a loud retching sound. "As was just proven when the lady (if such she may be called) threw up all over our champion. (I suppose she was right about the smell of a man making her sick.) But that doesn't seem to bother him, he's keeping hold of her and…was that a rib?"

Shar-Teel was on her knees by now, slowly but steadily having the life squeezed out of her by the ghoul's powerful arms, her movements slow and sluggish due to the poison of his claws. "No…", she breathed. "It…can't be…" And then she spoke no more.

"Wheee!" Korax shouted, dancing clumsily around Shar-Teel's lifeless corpse. "She'ssss dead! The pretty lady is dead! Dead, dead, dead!"

"Korax!" Imoen said in a shocked voice. "That's nothing to laugh about!"

"But it issss! Korax hasss been alone for so long, and now he will finally have a good friend, and more, a bride!"

"B-b-bride?!" Khalid stuttered. "But…"

"Oh dear", Jaheira said. "I remember now."

"R-remember what?"

"That if a ghoul doesn't start eating his victims soon after death, they will…"

"RARRRRRGGGGH!" Shar-Teel was sitting up on the ground, arms stretched out stiffly in front of her. Her face was still bloated and distorted, her eyes protruding madly from her face. Sometime during the fight, she had lost her helmet and her hair was sticking wildly out in all directions.

"EEEEK!" Alora screamed. "She's alive! She's alive!"

"No, she's a ghoul", Edwin explained. "How very fascinating. I should very much like to study this process closer." He took a step towards the undead woman and then hastily retreated as Shar-Teel snapped after him. "On second thought, maybe later. (What have we done? Well, nothing a Fireball or two won't fix.)"

"No!" Korax screamed, throwing himself at Shar-Teel and hugging her tightly despite her furious protests. "Mussstn't hurt the Bride of Korax!"

"I'm not your bride, you disgusting piece of filth!" Shar-Teel raged. 

"Awwww!" the ghoul said, looking immensely flattered. "You sssso ssssweet to ssssay sssuch thingsss to Korax. Him will be nice to you too, you'll ssssee. Korax will make nice dinner, plenty of juicy eyeballssssesss and marrow-soup for sssstarterssss, roasssst leg of man to follow, and Garlic and Knuckle Pie for desssert."

"Forget it, creep! I hate garlic!" Shar-Teel jerked unsteadily to her feet and started lurching away from the adventurers. 

Korax waved at Zaerini and her companions. "Bye-bye, nice friendssss!" he said cheerfully. "Korax going now, him needssss to go court hissss bride!"

"Ah, Korax", Jaheira said. "I do not think she wants to be your bride."

"She will come around. Korax issss patient, he'll court her nicely, he'll bring her pretty rotting flowersssss and sssshow her how gentle a ghoul can be. Korax issss very patient, and he hasssss all the time in the world. Besidessss, the dating-pool issss pretty shallow when you're undead." The ghoul waved again and then hurriedly shuffled off after his bride-to-be.

"Um, that was very…sweet", Imoen said. "I think."

From some distance into the trees an enraged scream could be heard. "Will you stop following me? And I don't want your ring! And stop smiling at me!"

"Korax can't help it, pretty lady far too preciousssss. Here, Korax write ssssome poetry. 'Eyeballsssss so blue, bloodstainssss sssso red, jussst like me you're utterly dead.'"

"I'm warning you…"

"Hassss Korax told you about how he became a ghoul? Issss very interesssting ssstory."

"AAARRRRGH! Make it stop! Somebody, anybody, please make it stop!" The screams faded away in the distance.

"Yes", Zaerini said. "Very…sweet."

"I almost feel sorry for Shar-Teel, even if she was horrible", Imoen said. "Imagine what it would be like to live in a world where there was only one possible man available for dating?"

Rini shuddered. "What an awful, awful thought", she said. "Korax has his good points, but any girl likes to have a certain freedom of choice. Tastes differ, and all that."

Feeling pretty much tired and beat up the adventurers made their way back towards Gullykin, where they intended to drop Alora off at her mother's house and then spend the night. However, as they approached the halfling village they were intercepted. A group of strangers, all of them heavily armed, approached. 

"You know", Alora said, "those people don't look very friendly."

The leader of the strangers was a large warrior in deep black armor. He raised the visor of his helmet to give Zaerini a cold look. "So...", he said. "We finally meet. Poor little Zaerini, I assume you're completely clueless as to why you must die. I'm sure you've already had problems with an assortment of incompetent bounty hunters. Well those days are done, today....you will die."

Zaerini stared at the four mercenaries facing her. _Not again!_ She felt almost ready to scream with frustration. _We were almost in Gullykin too_. Two of the men in front of her were human. The warrior who had addressed her was wearing dark platemail, an ebony black that almost melted into the darkness. He drew a wicked-looking sword and smiled slightly as if in anticipation. Next to him stood a man who wielded a glowing hammer, a weapon that seemed formed from pure energy. Probably some sort of priest. Yes, there it was. The Dark Sun emblem of Cyric stood out on the front of his platemail.

Next to the dark warrior stood a dwarf, a grim warrior who wielded an axe almost taller than himself. It should have made him look it ridiculous. It did not, possibly because of the collection of human scalps dangling from his waist. The final bounty hunter was a gnome, a skinny fellow whose beautiful chainmail was far too long for him and reached below his knees. It gave off faint green and purple sparks whenever he moved, obviously it was magical.

_I guess they weren't lying_ , Rini reluctantly admitted to herself. _These people do seem to be more skilled than the assassins we've faced so far. Looks like dear brother Sarevok has upped the stakes again. Well, I'm not ready to leave the table just yet._

"Time to die, you say?" she said, filling her voice with cold contempt. "You certainly talk big. I'm sure you'll be about as much trouble as the rest of the rabble we've killed. They were pretty talkative as well, up until the point where they bit the dust. Tell me something. Doesn't Sarevok have a single assassin in his employ who's able to kill somebody before introducing himself and making a long and tedious speech about it first?"

The black-armored man looked a little taken aback at the mention of Sarevok. Clearly, he hadn't expected her to know that name. He soon recovered, however. "You'll be a feisty kill, little one. When you die, know that it was Molkar who killed you."

_Oh good. I always like to be on a first name basis with my would-be killers_. Then there was no more time to think, only to react. Zaerini rapidly cast a spell and was pleased to see sticky strands of spider web wrap themselves around the legs and lower bodies of the gnome and the cleric, keeping them immobile. Jaheira had apparently had a similar idea as roots and vines shot up out of the rocky ground and further entangled the two bounty hunters. A pair of Fireballs cast in rapid succession by Edwin blasted them full in the face and the sharp smell of burning flesh filled the air along with the screams of the dying men.

Molkar and his dwarven companion had escaped the ensnaring spells, and now they charged, further enraged by the fate of their companions. Zaerini ducked a terrible blow from Molkar's sword and tried to get away. Her strength was no match for this one, that she knew. Vaguely she was aware of Khalid rushing up to face the human bounty hunter while Jaheira tackled the dwarf. Imoen was shooting arrows from a safe distance, but most of them simply bounced against that black armor. Edwin's Magic Missiles and Acid Arrows were more successful, but they wouldn't be enough to finish off the bounty hunter in time. Khalid was hard pressed, already bleeding from several wounds. 

And then Molkar screamed, screamed with sudden pain and fury. The scream turned into a strangled groan and he stumbled, clutching at his leg as a small purple shape rapidly darted away into the lengthening shadows. The distraction proved enough. Khalid was exhausted, but with the power of sheer willpower he managed to drive his blade into a chink in the other man's armor. Molkar screamed again, and this time it was more of a cry of desperation. Then he was finally still. 

Jaheira was being hard pressed by the dwarf, but she had managed to avoid serious injury, and once her friends were able to come to her assistance it wasn't long before the fourth and final bounty hunter joined his comrades in death.

The adventurers were silent for a few moments, grateful simply to be alive. Then Zaerini remembered something. "Alora?" she asked. "What exactly was it you did back there?"

The halfling grinned widely and flourished a small dagger. "Wyvern poison", she said. "Very deadly, enough to take care of that nasty old meanie. Doesn't matter how big and bad you are once you get a little poison in you; Auntie Poppy always says so in her letters. You wouldn't believe the kind of interesting things she always writes about!"

"Oh. All right. Er…remind me never to make your Auntie mad."

"Sure! But you needn't worry, she's ever so nice! And besides, she lives far away, all the way over in…"

"Would you look at the sun!" Edwin hurriedly exclaimed. "We'd better finish up here if we want to get back to Gullykin before it gets too dark to see properly. (There, hope that does the trick. And I really hope those letters weren't too detailed…)"

Rini frowned a little at the Red Wizard's sudden rush, but she was really too tired to ponder it further. While Jaheira tended to Khalid's and her own wounds the bard went to search the dead bodies. All of them carried expensive magical weapons and armor. The black armor in particular was beautiful and seemed heavily enchanted. Zaerini figured it would probably fit Khalid, and it was even more powerful than the one she'd 'borrowed' off of Drizzt. But the real treasure was the armor the gnome was wearing. Chainmail armor that glittered as she picked it up, glittered with the power of spells deeply interwoven with the very metal. She knew it for what it was at once. Elven mail, armor that would allow the wielder to cast spells while wearing it. It had been far too large for the gnome, but it should fit herself perfectly.

_Go on_ , Softpaws urged from her vantage point on top of the dead cleric's chest. _Try it on_. 

Zaerini eagerly pulled the armor on. The green and purple sparks had died with the gnome, but as her fingers touched the metal it glowed faintly, red and gold like dancing flames. As she put it on, she willed the light to dim, so as not to be so conspicuous, and it obeyed her wish. Within seconds the armor looked like normal chainmail, but it was so light that she could barely feel that she was wearing it. 

_Very nice, kitten_ , Softpaws said. 

_Yes. I…guess my elven blood is strong enough for me to wear it properly after all. That gnome could put it on, but I doubt he could make it work as it should._

_Elf, human…what does it matter?_

_It's just…with the way so many humans treat me I've always been curious about full elves. That's why I was able to put up with Xan for so long. Half of me is elven, but I've hardly met any. I just want to know what they're like, you know. To see if they accept me any better than humans tend to do._

_I see_ , the cat said, and thoughtfully licked her paw. _But you have to remember something._

_What?_

_No matter where you came from, and what blood flows in your veins, you are first of all yourself. And nobody can take that away from you. A cat doesn't need acceptance. She just is, and she will allow nobody to try to change her or deny her own self. Remember that._

_All right. I promise._

_Good. Now let's go. Your friends are waiting for you, and I want to find a warm place to sleep soon._

The sight of Gullykin was an extremely welcome one. The light streaming out of the windows of the round burrows, the ever-present smell of cooking food, the soft clucking of chickens and mooing of cows all made Rini nearly cry with relief. Finally, finally a good night's sleep without anybody showing up to kill her. Before that, some dinner. And before that, a nice hot bath. 

Alora led the way to her Mother's house and cheerfully barged inside. "My baby!" Rosie cried out and embraced her daughter. "My Alora! You're alive!" Then she held the younger halfling at arm's length. "And what's your excuse for failing to write me those letters you promised?"

"I was turned to stone, Mother. There were these nasty big old basilisks, with huge eyes that made everything go gray. But these people saved me. Wasn't that nice of them? I think so."

Rosie gave the adventurers a considering look. "I suppose it was", she said. "Yes, thank you very much, all of you. I'm truly grateful. Alora dear, you will be staying a while, won't you?"

"Just a little while, Mother, before I go to Baldur's Gate." The young halfling waved at Zaerini and her friends as they prepared to leave. "I'll see you guys later!" Then she ran over to give the surprised Edwin a fierce hug. "Don't forget", she said, "you're my new Best Friend now. You'll have to stop by to see me before you leave. Promise!"

"But I…"

"Promisepromisepromisepromise…"

"All right! I promise. Now will you please let go? (This is bad. Must…resist…powerful sweetness…)"

"Oh goodie! I'll make you some cookies then, and you can lick the bowl if you want!"

"Wonderful", the Red Wizard muttered. "I can barely contain myself." Zaerini thought his grouchiness was at least partly a facade though. She could swear she saw him smile when he thought nobody was watching.

The party decided to spend a day in Gullykin to rest and regain their strength. Zaerini had been thinking about her latest foretelling. Obviously, the Serpent card was a reference to the basilisks. The next card had been the Hermit, and she had an idea about that as well. The abandoned Mage School of Ulcaster lay close by, and rumor said that Ulcaster himself haunted its ruins. The cards had hinted that the Hermit might have valuable information for her, and she wanted to find out if that was true. Then she judged that it would be time to go after the bandits. She just needed to come up with a plan that was slightly sneakier than simply charging into their hidden camp, assuming she could find it. Well, she still had some time to think about that. Beregost first, to sell what Jaheira called 'spoils of victory' and Rini called 'loot'. Then Ulcaster. Right now, she was simply pleased to be back in Gullykin once more.

The halflings had insisted on arranging yet another party for their Heroes. Rini couldn't quite relax this evening though. She had retreated into the bedroom she had been assigned by Alora's mother. Try as she might, she couldn't quite forget about those other three cards of her foretelling. The Beast. That would be the mysterious Tazok she suspected, assuredly a dangerous enemy. The Knight of Swords. Sarevok. He had told her it wasn't time for their meeting yet. Had he been lying? Could those represented in the cards lie to her during a reading? She didn't know. Suppose Sarevok was waiting to ambush her in the bandit camp? And finally, the Rogue. That card was worrying her almost as much as Sarevok. At least she knew what Sarevok looked like, more or less. But this hidden danger, this invisible enemy watching her… how could she defend herself against that? Well, he had hinted that he wasn't **exactly** her enemy. Yet. She hoped that would last. She certainly didn't need another enemy, what with Sarevok and his army of hired killers after her already.

Should she do another reading? Zaerini took out her deck of cards and looked at it. No. Something told her it wasn't the right time. She was seriously tempted though. Maybe just a small one? Biting her lower lip in anticipation the half-elf hurriedly flipped up a card. A dark figure cloaked in black glared coldly back up at her out of swirling shadows. Well, at least she thought it glared. There was only the barest hint of a face visible, but she got the distinct impression of glaring. The Rogue. For some strange reason she was reminded of Gorion, when he'd caught her doing something she really shouldn't. "All right, all right", the bard muttered. "Sorry to bother you if you were busy. I'll be back later then." As she stuck the card back in the deck, she could almost have sworn the dark figure nodded to her. Tempted as she was to draw the card back out of the deck again, she didn't. Something told her it wouldn't be pleased.

A knock on the door startled Rini out of her thoughts. "Come in", she said. As the door swung open, she could see a tall shape outlined in black against the doorway, a shadowy form watching her intently. Then her eyes adjusted themselves. "Oh, Edwin. For a moment I thought you were somebody else. Silly, really. What can I do for you?"

"I came to fetch you", the Red Wizard said. "You recall how I promised to show you some fireworks? I thought this would be a good time, seeing that we leave again tomorrow."

"Sounds great", the bard said, her golden eyes alight with anticipation. "I'll be right with you." She put the deck of cards back in her pocket and followed the wizard out the door. In her pocket, the cards stirred slightly before they settled down once more.

The annoying feeling of being watched had passed. Dekaras shook his head and frowned slightly. The room he had taken at the Red Sheaf was quite empty of intruders, of that he was certain. There was nobody outside either the window or the door, he had checked that at once. But he knew there had been someone spying, all his instincts screamed loud warnings. Some sort of scrying spell, perhaps. It had felt as if it came from close by and yet it had felt somehow…vague. Almost as if the watcher hadn't known whom to search for. Possibly it could have been a coincidence. _Except I don't trust in coincidences_ , the assassin thought, his black eyes cold. Well, there was nothing to do about it at the moment other than being extra careful. He could only spend a limited amount of time away from the bandit camp and there were many things that needed to be done. The plan was coming nicely into shape but there were still some details to settle. _And then_ , the assassin thought to himself with a faint smile, _we will see what kind of game young Sarevok and his wizard friend play when they lose one of their more important game pieces._


	24. Half-truths and Hermit

**In The Cards 24 – Half-truths and Hermit**

_Being able to tell when somebody is lying to you is a very useful skill, one that can save your life. Of course, nobody is infallible. There is nobody better equipped to deceive you than the people you have the most reason to trust. Once, that is._

_Excerpt from 'Interview With An Assassin'_

It wouldn't go away on its own. Edwin kept staring at the note, but it still sat there in the middle of the table, and the words were still the same. The Red Wizard was sitting in a room at the Jovial Juggler, one of the four inns of Beregost. It was a pleasant enough room, he supposed. The bed was comfortable, with thick green curtains to keep the light out and no apparent bugs. There was a large oaken cabinet, soft carpets on the floor, a window with a view of the narrow street outside. There was also a table. Edwin's spellbook was lying on it, quite forgotten for the moment. The note occupied all his attention, like a giant iceberg looming on the horizon.

The party had arrived in Beregost that same afternoon. After renting rooms at the Juggler they had separated to take care of their own personal business. Khalid and Jaheira had gone to sell what superfluous items could be easily disposed of in town. Zaerini and Imoen had also taken off, mentioning something about going shopping. Edwin had withdrawn to his room, eager to take a closer look at some of the spell scrolls he hadn't had the time to inscribe in his spellbook yet. He had hardly sat down before there was a timid knock on the door and a small boy entered, bearing a message.

"Pardon, sir", the boy had said. "This was left for you earlier, to be delivered as soon as you arrived."

Edwin had waved the child out and then opened the letter. He had read it. Several times, in fact. It still said the same.

_Am in town on business between 4th and 6th. Will return once a week, same weekdays. Number Three, after sunset. Come at once if convenient. If not, then make it so._

The note wasn't signed, but of course it didn't need to be. Edwin knew who it was from. Today was the 5th, one of the designated days. There would be not getting out of this, Edwin shuddered to even think of what would happen if his teacher found out that he had been in town but failed to turn up. No, he had to go. But he was worried, very much so. It felt like events were slipping away from him, careening out of control. True, Zaerini hadn't entirely denied all possibility of her ever agreeing to work for Thay. Edwin wasn't hopeful that she ever would, however. If he didn't press her for an answer his teacher would demand to know why. And if he did, and she refused…

_No_ , Edwin thought. _I…I can't do it._ It was a horrible, contemptible weakness in him, no doubt. He didn't know how it was possible, and he was ashamed to admit this strange inability even to himself. Once he'd set out on his mission, he'd been so confident of his own competence, so certain that he could easily do whatever was necessary. But something had…changed. He had changed. And now he couldn't bear the thought of killing the bard, couldn't even bear the thought of her dying at the hands of another. To never again hear her voice, never see the glint of sunlight off her red hair or that spark of mischief in her eyes, to never again be challenged by her quick intellect…no. It mustn't be. Perhaps he was a miserable weakling, but he couldn't let that happen.

_Yet how can I prevent it?_ Edwin thought and rolled the brief note nervously between his fingers. _If I don't carry on with the mission, then Teacher Dekaras most certainly will. He wouldn't hesitate like this_. Briefly Edwin considered telling his mentor the truth. His mind boggled at the imagined scene. No, that didn't seem like an option. _I don't see how he could possibly understand_ , Edwin thought, feeling quite miserable. _He's always so calm and collected, the way I ought to be. He'd surely never let emotions interfere with a mission. How could I ever admit this shameful weakness to him? He'd despise me, and rightly so. He'd probably tell me that by my incompetence I'm putting us both at great risk. And he'd be right. The Red Wizards take failure badly enough. Willful disregard of given orders will make them come after us, and they won't stop until we're both dead._

Edwin leaned his head into his hands and moaned quietly. How could he even contemplate risking his mentor's, his friend's life? _He would never do such a thing to me_ , the wizard thought, his heart torn by the black claws of shame and self-contempt. _How many times has he saved my life? I can't even remember. And he has always been there for me when I needed him. Always, as far back as I can recall. I can't let him come to harm, any more than I can her. But I can't tell him that._

The wizard allowed himself a hollow laugh at the thought of the assassin's probable reaction to hearing that his student was trying to protect him. _He'd never listen to me. He'd think the very idea mortally insulting, wouldn't he? The best I could hope for would be that he decided that I'd gone insane, and then he'd still go after Zaerini._

Edwin got up from his chair and paced back and forth, his thoughts chasing each other wildly around his head. He felt trapped. Trapped between an irresistible force and an immovable object, likely to get crushed between them. Or like a trainer of wild animals, trying to keep two of his beasts from tearing each other's throats out. The mental image this brought to mind nearly caused him to break out in hysterical laughter. This wouldn't do. He had to go to the appointed meeting, and he had to try to stall for a little longer. And if that failed…then he would have to think of something else. Something. Somehow.

It was already dark out when Edwin slipped out onto the streets of Beregost, and there was a faint drizzle in the air that made him shiver with cold. But that was good, the cold brought him back to reality. He tried to concentrate on the cold, on the slick cobblestones beneath his feet, on the patches of light spilling out of the windows around him. Anything to keep from thinking of what lay ahead of him. A courtesan passed him in the street, a pretty blonde in a dress far too thin for this weather. Edwin barely noticed the invitation she called out to him, nor the words she spat his way when he pushed by her without stopping. Number Three lay in front of him. Dekaras had set up a list of simple code words for safety's sake, and Number Three meant the Red Sheaf, the third of Beregost's four inns. Edwin drew a deep breath, squared his shoulders and went inside, having first made sure that he wasn't being followed. Nothing to do except try his best. He hoped that would be enough.

Edwin stood still just inside the door for a few moments. The sound was almost deafening. Drunken laugher, raised voices, clanking glasses, the reedy sound of a flute all drifted towards him. The bad weather had apparently caused many people to decide to visit the tavern. The tables were all occupied, and the floor was crowded by people moving about looking for a seat. A small but ugly fight was going on in a far corner, apparently over who had waited the longest for his drinks and ought to be served first. While Edwin watched one of the combatants bit a piece of his opponent's ear off and spat it out on the floor, and the other man retaliated by smashing him over the head with a broken bottle. The Red Wizard made his way across the floor towards the bartender, careful not to jostle anybody. The last thing he needed was to get into a brawl.

The bartender was a muscular man with a shaved head and a nose that looked like it had been broken more than once. "Good Evening", Edwin told him. "I believe I am expected." 

The large man looked him over, then spat on the ground. "Maybe", he said in a surly voice. "Depends on who you're looking for."

"Elminster's long lost twin-sister", Edwin sneered. "We're having a secret affair."

The bartender's eyes narrowed at the recognition of the password. "I take it you want a room then", he said. "Come with me." He led Edwin upstairs, and then pointed at a door at the end of a long and dark corridor. "In there", he said with an unpleasant chuckle. "Have fun." He went back downstairs, still laughing quietly.

The corridor seemed endless as Edwin approached the closed door. It was like one of those dreams when you're running for your life and can't wake up. Eventually he stood outside the door, staring at the smooth and dark surface. He raised his hand to knock. Then he hesitated. _Don't be ridiculous!_ Edwin told himself. _He won't bite your head off. Probably_. His hand still refused to move though. 

"Are you going to come in any time soon?" a voice said from inside the room. "This is starting to get tedious." Edwin gulped and gave a startled jerk. As he did, his hand pushed against the door and it swung open. No turning back now.

The room was small, smaller than the one Edwin had left at his own inn. There was a narrow bed that looked rather hard, a small table and a couple of chairs. Dekaras was sitting on one of them, his feet propped up on the table, where he could have a full view of the door. He was tossing a throwing dagger from one hand to the other in what seemed like an idle manner. Edwin knew better than to believe that. The assassin looked much the same as always. He was wearing his customary dark leathers and his black hair had been gathered at the base of his neck to be out of the way. Possibly his face was just a little bit more gaunt than usual, the cheekbones more pronounced. When wholly absorbed by an assignment he would sometimes neglect eating or sleeping properly, Edwin knew, being too preoccupied with the mission at hand. Edwin had overheard his Mother complaining about it more than once. And then Edwin's thoughts fled again as a pair of black eyes stared coolly back out him out of that expressionless face and an eyebrow arched as if daring him to speak.

"Well, well, well", Dekaras said. "Who do we have here? One of the illustrious Heroes of Nashkel, isn't it? I feel so…honored. Do close the door behind you if such a task isn't too menial for a Noble Hero like yourself." That silky voice was dripping with sarcasm.

Edwin felt sudden heat rising in his cheeks and he hurried to pull the door shut, feeling quite mortified. "Well", he tried to explain, "I…that is we…I mean…I didn't mean to! It was an accident."

"Indeed. So, you managed to get appointed Hero of Nashkel, Gullykin and Beregost without even trying to? That is something of an accomplishment."

"But I…Beregost?"

"Oh yes." Dekaras let the throwing dagger disappear into the folds of his clothes with a casual flick of the wrist. "Something about disposing of a mad cleric who was terrorizing the countryside I believe." The assassin rose from his sitting position and glided across the floor towards the petrified wizard, looking for all the world like a stalking predator. "So", he said. "It would seem that young Master Odesseiron has developed a taste for heroics, fame and the adulation of the screaming masses. Might I then take this opportunity to remind you of what you were **supposed** to be doing? Or are you too busy saving the world from destruction or drawing up the charter for the Edwin Odesseiron Admiration Club? Take your time. It isn't as if I have anything better to do than wait around for you to make up your mind."

"I…" Edwin said, trying to buy some time. "Er…how did you know it was me outside the door right now, anyway?"

"Please", Dekaras said with a small snort. "As if I wouldn't recognize your footsteps anywhere. And besides, you were almost breathing hard enough to blow the door down. Now answer the question."

"Well…I…would you know that I met this halfling who turned out to be the niece of our own Poppy? Isn't that amazing? I think that's amazing. Really, really amazing. Really, really, really…"

"You are starting to try my patience, boy. Of course, I know that. Poppy told me before we left. She even asked me to look the girl up if I had the time. And I sincerely advice you to stop trying to change the subject unless you want me to become angry with you. No more of these childish antics. How goes your assignment?"

The following twenty minutes were pure torture for Edwin. The one thing that saved him from discovery was that he wasn't actually lying, not yet. His teacher had always been able to tell when he was outright lying. He clung to half-truths and omissions, and somehow, he managed to muddle through. His story was that he was well on his way to convincing Zaerini, but that he needed some more time, the reason being that she was too preoccupied with Sarevok and his bandits at the moment to think of much else. Apparently, that was the right thing to say.

"Ah yes, Sarevok", Dekaras said, an interested look in his eyes. "A most fascinating man. Yes, I can well imagine that the girl would be somewhat distracted by him."

"You've seen him?" Edwin asked. "When? How?" 

The assassin went on to explain about his current association with the bandits and Sarevok's appearance in the camp. "My position among the bandits is solid", Dekaras said. "I have been making certain arrangements, and once you and the others are inside, I will be able to create chaos enough to draw all attention away from you."

"How do we get inside though?"

"I'm getting to that. The bandits are currently eager to recruit new members, due to the recent raids by the Flaming Fist. That is my official reason for being in Beregost, actually. Assuming you all can curb your heroic tendencies, I should be able to deposit you on the bandits' very doorstep."

"I…I see", Edwin said. "Yes, that should work. But how will I find you? Zaerini wants to go to the Ulcaster ruins before tackling the bandits. I need some way to get in touch with you."

"As I said in my letter, I will be here for a few days each week, looking for new recruits as well as for news of passing caravans. If, for some reason, I am detained, you will have to manage on your own."

"You mean if you're dead, don't you?" Edwin asked with a flash of sudden insight. "Don't you?! Well, I won't let that happen. I won't!" 

The assassin gave him a surprised look, and then he smiled, a genuine smile this time rather than a sarcastic smirk. "All men must die someday", he said. "And though I appreciate the sentiment, the responsibility for my continued existence is in no way yours. You mustn't ever think that."

_But I do_ , Edwin thought, feeling quite miserable. _I do, and I am making it so through actions of my own. I never wanted for any of this to happen_. "It's just…you only came with me on this mission because I asked you to."

"And I did so willingly", Dekaras said. He put his hand on Edwin's shoulder and looked the wizard straight in the eyes. "Now listen to me", he said, his voice very serious. "My first priority is keeping you safe. Nothing is more important than that, including my own life, and I will do anything to make sure it happens. Do you understand me? Anything."

"I…think so."

"Good." The assassin nodded, apparently satisfied that his student had got the message. Then an amused look came into his eyes. "But there is no need to look so gloomy about it. I certainly have no intention of dying if I can avoid it, and we have both survived worse than this. As long as we stand united as always, I really think we have a fair chance."

"Yes", Edwin said, somehow managing a smile. "Of course." But he felt lonelier than ever before, and for once his mentor's words held no comfort for him. No comfort at all. 

-*-

Swelling blue flowers of fire. Sparkling rains of red and gold. White lightning shooting into the sky. Zaerini shut her eyes for moment, pressing the palm of her hand against her eyelids to help strengthen the memory.

_Well kitten_ , Softpaws commented from her place on the bard's shoulder. _Looks like you really enjoyed those fireworks the other day._

_Oh, I did. I really did. Who would have thought Eddie could pull off a thing like that?_

_Speaking of your wizard, perhaps you should have a word with him. Looks like he's a little preoccupied._

_He's not **my** wizard_, Zaerini retorted automatically, but she turned her head to see what her familiar was talking about. What she saw worried her. The adventurers had started out on their way from Beregost this same morning. It had been raining on and off all day, a light rain that nevertheless managed to seep into most of your clothes. At least they'd found a reasonably dry place to camp under a rocky overhang once they got into mountain country. Khalid and Imoen were taking their turn at cooking, Rini could hear them discuss just how much green pepper was 'too much' and evidently disagreeing about it. Jaheira was standing guard a little further off, motionless like a statue. 

Edwin was sitting by himself on a flat rock, ostensibly studying his spellbook. Now that she thought about it though, Rini noticed that he wasn't turning the pages. He didn't even seem to see the book at all, rather he was staring into empty space. In fact, once she took a closer look, she could see that the book was upside-down. The half-elf walked over and sat down next to him. "Edwin?" she asked. "Something wrong? You've been awfully quiet all day. You're not ill or something, are you?"

The wizard turned his head, his face tense under the cowl of his red robe. "I…am well", he said. "Nothing the matter whatsoever."

"Are you sure? Because you look like somebody just died." She thought she could see him wince at that. "I don't mean to pry or anything. It's just…well…if you want to talk about it I'm right here."

For a second Zaerini thought he was going to say what was bothering him. Then it seemed a door slammed shut behind his eyes and he shook his head briefly. "I…I can't", he said. "Not with you. Not with…anybody. (I have to do this one alone. Somehow.)" His face tightened and he stared down into the book again. 

"If you're sure…but if you don't want to say what's bothering you, perhaps you'd like some company anyway while you think it over?"

"I don't need that", Edwin snapped. "I can manage on my own. (I can. It may feel like a balancing act on a slack rope over molten lava, but I can manage. Surely, I can.) Your insufferable prying is only making this worse."

The half-elf was starting to get angry herself by now. "Fine!" she said. "There's no need to be rude about it, you know. I was only asking. I'll leave you to be miserable then if that's what you want."

"Good! (Insufferably nosy woman.) At least you aren't deaf as well as intrusive."

"Fine! And you are unspeakably ungrateful, and have all the social graces of a rabid rhinoceros."

"Why you…you prancing little backwoods excuse for a spellslinger!" 

"Oh yeah? Well, you're a stuck-up, smug git, with an ego so massively inflated it's a wonder you manage to stay on the ground!"

"Ha! My magic is powerful enough to wipe you out, leaving no trace of you to be seen!"

"Really? First I think you'd better wipe your nose, cause I see something green!" _Got you_! the half-elf thought triumphantly as the Red Wizard reflexively raised his hand to touch his face. She decided to follow up immediately with an insult of her own. "You sir, have the manners and the breeding of a lump of phlegm fresh from an ogre's snout!"

"Oh, I'm sorry", Edwin sneered. "You didn't seem to be using them, I thought you could do without."

"You…you hopeless jerk!"

"Snotty brat!"

"Troll turd!"

"Witch!"

At this moment Zaerini felt a firm hand on her shoulder. She was more than a little startled to realize that both she and Edwin had got to their feet during the argument. By now they were standing directly opposite each other, glaring angrily into each other's eyes, close enough that they were almost bumping heads. Close enough to feel each other's breath, Rini realized, and then she rapidly tried to dismiss that thought. The heat that rose in her cheeks wasn't entirely due to her anger. Edwin seemed to come to the same conclusion at about the same time, as she saw his eyes widen and he stepped backwards rapidly enough that he almost tripped over Khalid, who was holding onto the back of his robes and trying to drag him away from the bard. Zaerini turned her head and saw that the hand gripping her shoulder ended in a very put out druid who had adapted her trademark stony face.

"Children", Jaheira said, "would you care to tell the rest of us what you are fighting about?" 

The bard and the Red Wizard exchanged a hasty glance. "Nothing!" they both said at exactly the same time.

"Nothing", Jaheira said in a deceptively mild voice. "Well, that is good. I would hate to think you were trying to attract the attention of every roaming monster on the Sword Coast because you were fighting over **something**. This seems ever so much more reasonable."

"You were p-pretty loud", Khalid said with an apologetic shrug. 

"Yup", Imoen cheerfully added. "I thought you'd manage to bring the mountain down. Still, it looked like you were both having lots of fun. Kinda cute, actually."

Zaerini felt her face grow hotter by the moment. She thought she was probably about as red as her hair by now and she wanted nothing more than to sink into the earth and disappear from sight. "Er…", she said, "we…that is…I…"

"We…were doing exercises", Edwin blurted out and steadfastly avoided looking at anything but a spot of air next to Zaerini's right ear. 

"Exercises", Jaheira said in a flat voice.

"Yes. Yes! Exercises. Surely you must know that spellcasting requires a healthy pair of lungs, a trained voice and a…er…firm…chest?" Edwin faltered as he spoke the last words and looked like he was trying to shrink into his own robes.

"I see", Jaheira said, her face giving nothing away. "Well, in the future, please try to do your 'exercises' a little more quietly." She returned to her watch, as did Khalid and Imoen to their cooking. Zaerini thought she could hear a muffled giggle from Imoen's direction. She desperately tried to avoid looking Edwin in the face. 

_Well?_ Softpaws asked and twined herself around the bard's legs. _Aren't you going to kiss and make up?_

_Softy! Stop it!_

_Of course, cats don't bother much with kissing. You might want to try something like this instead. Let me give you a nudge in the right direction_. The image the familiar sent along the mental link was very vivid.

_SOFTY! Are you insane! That's…that's…_

_Oh, was it too difficult to understand? I'll simplify it then. Nudge nudge_. A few arrows and written instructions added to the pedagogical appeal of the picture.

_SOFTY!_

_Tsk, tsk. Kittens these days. No inquisitiveness at all it seems. I could talk you through it, you know, one little step at a time._

_Absolutely not! There is nothing of the sort going on between us! The very thought is absolutely…absolutely…_

_Tempting?_

_No! Ridiculous. That's what I was going to say. Ridiculous._

_Really, kitten? All right. Do it your way then. Kiss and make up. Just a brief peck will do._

_I'm not going to…_ The figures in the image started moving about and sound was added. Zaerini reflexively tried to cover her face with her hands. It didn't help. 

_Nudge nudge nudge_ , Softpaws said, and her voice sounded very satisfied, even over the loud sound effects. 

Edwin was starting to feel a little worried. Zaerini was simply standing there, her golden eyes wide and slightly glazed, her mouth wide open. She was still blushing furiously. For some odd and unfathomable reason it didn't make her face the least bit less appealing, the way it surely ought to have. "Are you all right?" he asked. He didn't get any further. The bard grabbed him by the arm and dragged him behind a large rock, out of sight of the rest of the party. 

"I'll have you know", the half-elf hissed, "that I'm only doing this because I'm being blackmailed by my stupid cat. And if you dare make even one smug joke or snide comment about it I'll make you regret it." Her large and tilted eyes were glowing like open furnaces and she was blushing to the very tips of her pointed ears. The cat in question was watching Edwin with what the wizard thought was an oddly knowing expression for a cat to wear.

"Er…doing what?" Edwin asked. And then all his conscious thought processes shut down as a pair of slim hands grabbed him firmly by the shoulders and pulled his head down. By the time he felt silky lips against his own he couldn't have remembered his own name if asked to give it, or for that matter that he had one. He didn't think. There were no plans, no worries, no words even. Just the whirling impressions of soft red hair brushing against his face, of golden eyes boring into his soul before they closed with pleasure, the feeling of smooth skin, the faint and lingering scent of lilacs…the heat. Above all, the heat. He was burning, dying, consumed by the raging fire. He didn't care. And he never wanted it to stop. 

Edwin had no idea how much time had passed once Zaerini pulled away again. It could have been seconds, but it might as well have been years. "Um…I'm sorry if I was mean before", the bard said with a small and uncertain smile. "See…er…Softpaws insisted that we 'make up' after our little argument, so…well…friends again?" When the wizard simply gaped at her she continued, almost tumbling over her own words. "Um…I hope you're feeling better now? When I'm moping I usually feel better after a good argument. Not to suggest that you were moping as such, but…"

"I…yes", Edwin managed. "Perhaps…perhaps I was a little out of line myself. My…apologies. And the…er…argument certainly made me feel better. (As did the making up. What? I didn't say that, did I?)" _So? Nothing wrong with enjoying a friendly gesture, which is all it was of course. No, nothing wrong with that at all._

"Oh. Good. I sort of liked it too."

"You did?"

"Oh yes. I don't think I've ever met anybody it was so fun to fight with before."

The bard winked at him and Edwin felt his breath quicken. Possibly he was coming down with something. He hoped there wasn't something seriously wrong with him. "Likewise," he said, and his voice was perhaps just a little bit hoarse. Throat infection then? He had been rather loud earlier… "Er…perhaps you would like to do it again sometime? I so rarely meet anybody with an intellect developed enough to match mine in a game of wits."

The smile he got in return was enough to make him decide that he wouldn't mind another go himself. Preferably right now. Even if it did definitely feel like he was falling ill, what with the way his heart was trying to hammer itself out of his chest. For some strange and inexplicable reason, he didn't mind. Not at all, in fact.

The party had been searching for some hours before they finally found the path. The steep cliffs reared high all around it, smooth and slick, blocking access to the ruins of Ulcaster. "This is getting ridiculous", Edwin said after the adventurers had walked back and forth along the mountainside for quite some time. "We'll never find that stupid mage school this way. (And besides, my feet are killing me.)" He leaned against the rock with a superior look on his face, one that immediately dissolved as he fell into the mountainside.

"A secret passage!" Imoen exclaimed once it had been established that Edwin hadn't, in fact, gone into the rock itself. "Wow, I love secret passages. I wonder where this one leads?"

"To Ulcaster, presumably", Edwin said, picking himself off the ground. "Looks like the old wizards didn't want anybody but themselves and their pupils finding their way here. Very cunning illusion there. It almost fooled even me, but obviously I saw right through it in seconds."

"And that was why you fell right through it and flat on your face just now?" Zaerini asked with an innocent smile.

"I was trying to be dramatic!"

"Um, e-excuse me", Khalid said, looking nervously at the narrow path as it wound its way upwards and disappeared from sight around the corner. "B-b-but I just thought of s-something."

"Yes?" Zaerini asked. "What is it?" She had learnt long ago that when Khalid asserted himself enough to make a point it was usually important. 

"W-w-well, I don't know much about m-magic, but I just thought…with all the wizards d-dead, then who's m-maintaining the illusion s-spell?"

The rest of the adventurers looked at each other as they thought this over. "You just had to go and say that, didn't you?" Edwin complained. 

"The ghost of Ulcaster?" Zaerini suggested. Nobody seemed particularly cheered by this thought. "We'll be careful", the bard said. "But I think I really need to go up there. My cards hinted as much. I'll go myself if I have to."

"Nonsense", Jaheira said, placing her hands on her hips. "I am not about to let you go traipsing off alone into unknown danger."

"R-right", Khalid agreed with a reassuring smile. "Where you go, w-we go."

"I'm not going anywhere without you", Imoen said. "Besides, I'd love to see a magic school. Think they have any cool stuff left that they don't need any longer?"

Edwin nodded. "A chance to come across any valuable tomes or scrolls is a chance worth taking", he said. "There could be other interesting artifacts left as well. (Possibly even a dragon to guard the grounds. I always did want to see a dragon.)"

The path led steadily upwards, getting ever steeper and narrower. Eventually Zaerini and her friends found themselves in the open again. The bard stood motionless, staring. For a moment she imagined she saw a huge castle floating before her in the chilly air, the towers and turrets reaching up to pierce the gray sky. Then she blinked and there was nothing but rolling mist, drifting along the ground to form strange shapes. No real castle to be seen, but there were rocks on the ground, rocks still geometrically aligned, to mark where walls had once stood. "Ulcaster..:" the bard said, and far in the distance a pack of wolves started howling their agreement. 

"So, what's the big deal?" Imoen asked, sounding a little disappointed. She had jumped on top of one of the ruined walls and was balancing along it as she spoke, skipping from one leg to the other. "It's just a bunch of rocks."

"How little you know", Edwin said. "The main school building may be long gone, but the dungeons still remain. (Let's just hope that some treasure remains as well.)"

"Dungeons? Why would there need to be dungeons in a school?!"

Edwin gave her a sidelong look and folded his hands into his sleeves against the cold. "The study of magic is not like other subjects", he said. "It requires not only raw power, but the intelligence to use it. Accidents are not uncommon, and thus the need to hold certain lessons in a more…sheltered…environment. In case of explosions, or a summoned creature going on a rampage. Things like that."

"Oh. Did you go to a place like this then?"

"No", the wizard said. "I was…taught privately." He turned to point at something a little way off. "Isn't that an entrance?" It certainly seemed to be. A dark stairway led into the ground.

"Great", Zaerini said. "Let's take a closer look and…" She interrupted herself. Somebody was coming towards them. No, actually somebody was floating towards them, drifting along the ground like another strand of mist. The creature looked more or less like a wizard. He was wearing long mage robes, gray and flowing like the mist itself, and his long white beard reached well past his waist. His face was gray as well, gray and sunken, his eyes hollow. Most importantly, he was transparent. The ruined walls of the Ulcaster school could easily be seen through his floating body. Now and then he gave a hideous, bloodcurdling moan.

"Th-that's a g-g-ghost!" Khalid stammered; his face almost as ashen as the spirit's.

"You don't say?" Edwin snapped while he tried to stealthily ready a wand without attracting the ghost's attention. "Whatever gave you that idea? Could it be the way his feet don't touch the ground, the moaning and wailing, or the fashionable see-through look?"

The ghost turned his head at the sound of the wizard's voice and set course for the adventurers, a very determined look on his face. At least Rini thought it was determined, but with the transparency it was a bit difficult to tell. She shivered as the temperature of the air around her dropped by several degrees. The hilt of her sword felt like ice against her hand. "Nice tactic there, Eddie", she said. "Just invite all of the resident undead over, why don't you?" Next to her she could see her friends readying weapons of their own. 

His eyes burning with a terrible mixture of hope and despair the ghost reached out a thin hand towards the half-elf. It passed right through her arm like the mist itself, leaving only coldness behind. "...the best of schools..." the spirit moaned. " ..a storehouse of arcane knowledge... ...lost, all lost... a common dungeon, now... ...we all shall live again... someday... ...all for knowledge did we strive...nothing left...Hope would return with the retrieval of the simplest of tomes...beneath the rubble...on the lowest floors...return hope...history is so important..."

_The Hermit_ , Zaerini thought. _I know him from my foretelling_. "Who are you?" she asked in a voice that trembled just a little bit. "Are you Ulcaster himself? What do you want?"

The ghost was silent for a moment, and his eyes seemed to clear a little. "I…was once known by that name", he said. "Yes. I was…Ulcaster. You…I know…you. I…have seen your spirit, shining in the…darkness. You…will aid me."

"She will do no such thing, ghost", Jaheira said and pointed her scimitar at Ulcaster. "Not unless you tell us all exactly what you want."

_Careful Jaheira!_ Zaerini thought. _We cannot fight him. He is far too dangerous, and I doubt our weapons would even touch him._

"Very…well", Ulcaster sighed, stroking his long beard. "This school…my pride and joy…was destroyed. Long ago now. The attackers…they were too many. My poor students…dead. The school…in shambles. The knowledge…lost."

"So what do you want with us?" Edwin asked.

"I was…getting to that! Dust and…ashes, I'd forgotten how…annoyingly impatient…students could be. Inside the…dungeon…lies a certain book. 'Dream Magic'. Next to it…a small hand-mirror with a handle shaped like…a dragon. Bring me that, and I shall…reward you."

"Reward us?" Edwin said, looking very interested. "How, exactly?"

"With…knowledge. Knowledge that you all…need. No treasure…is greater than…knowledge."

"Perhaps. But why can't you just fetch this book yourself? (I have no particular wish to wind up inside a hungry dragon or be blasted into tiny fragments by some ancient magical trap simply because he wants some reading material to help pass the millennia.)"

"The wards…of the school…were activated upon the night of the…attack. Some of them…misfired. None may now pass in…or out…except for students come to take the Tests. Live students. No ghosts…or other undead."

"Tests?" Rini asked, not liking the sound of that much.

"The…examination tests. Designed to weed out…the unworthy. Once done…you will be teleported…into my study. There you will find…the items I need."

"And if we don't want to take your stupid Tests?"

"Then…you may stay here. Eternally. The road to Ulcaster…only opens…at my command. I sensed you…I led you here…only I…can release you. Verify my words…if you will. I speak truth."

"Very well", Jaheira said, her voice grim and her jaw set. "We will do as you ask."

"Not…all of you. Ulcaster…only accepts those…with magic in their blood. The school…knows. The rest of you…must wait without."

Zaerini exchanged a swift look with Edwin. It was pretty obvious what the ghost meant. The Red Wizard gave a small nod. "All right", Zaerini said. "Edwin and I will enter. The rest of you, wait for us here."

"No!" Jaheira protested. "This is too dangerous, I forbid it!" Her green eyes flashed with stubborn fury. "You will both get yourselves killed!"

"It's no use, Jaheira. We have to do as Ulcaster asks, you said it yourself. And if the school will only accept those with magic inside…"

"It does seem to be the only available course of action", Edwin agreed. 

Jaheira sighed. "Just be careful", she said.

"Of course we will", the bard said with a quick grin. "We're always careful, right Eddie?"

"Exactly", Edwin agreed. "Careful is the very word for what we are. And besides, a few pitiful little Tests are hardly any match for my magic and mental skills." The druid simply shook her head in silence.

The stairway leading into Ulcaster ended in an even black surface, impossible to see through. 

"Well…", Zaerini said as she stared at the uninviting doorway. "Guess this is it. Are you ready?"

"I am ready", Edwin said in a supremely confident voice. "I will handle this with preposterous ease, you know. I'll show you; you'll see."

I'm ready too, kitten, Softpaws answered from inside the bard's pack. Ulcaster had assured her that the familiar, being a creature of magic, should be able to enter the school. 

"Right", Rini said and drew a deep breath. "Here we go." She and Edwin touched the inky blackness at the exact same time. It rose up around them like a black tidal wave. There was no sight or sound, no taste, smell or feeling. Only the blackness all around. 

_I wonder if this is what dying feels like_ , Rini thought. And then the world came back to normal around her as she found herself in another place. Or maybe not exactly normal. She saw Edwin stare around himself with incredulous wonder and knew that she herself must look equally stunned. Ulcaster School was like nothing she had ever seen before, even as a ruin of its former self, and the magic of it filled her heart with song.


	25. Child's Play

**In The Cards 25 - Child's Play**

_Imps are strange creatures, sometimes hostile, sometimes simply mischievous. The imp to really beware is the one who insists on showing you something 'funny'. You probably won't like it. If you're unlucky the joke will turn out to be on you. If you’re particularly unlucky, the joke will be you._

_Excerpt from 'Ruminations Of A Master Bard'_

Zaerini didn't know what exactly she had expected Ulcaster to look like. It certainly wasn't anything like this. She was floating inside what seemed to be some sort of large sphere. A black and starry sky surrounded her on all sides, even far below her feet. She could see actual constellations as well, and even recognized some. The stars were singing. Faint, silvery notes emanated from each one as they slowly turned around each other in an endless dance. The bard hoped she'd be able to remember even a fraction of that song afterwards.

"Amazing", Edwin said in a soft voice. "Though I question the wisdom of having your front door end up in empty space."

"Silly boy", a cackling voice interrupted him. "School set up for Testing, no rooms in usual places." The bard and the wizard turned their heads to see a small creature grinning at them. It was vaguely humanoid in form, with dark red skin, small but sharp horns on its head and a lashing tail with a wicked stinger.

"You're an imp, aren't you?" Rini asked. "Is Ulcaster your master?"

The little creature giggled. "Nimus has many masters", he said and lashed his tail. "Him little hardworking imp, does work masters sets him."

Edwin gave the imp a commanding look, something not very easy to do when floating in empty space. He almost managed to pull it off, but the fact that he started spinning slowly when he tried to move didn't help. "We seek knowledge, imp", he said. "A certain book. 'Dream Magic'. Tell us where it may be found."

"Books inside. Many, MANY books. You try library, maybe?"

"Ulcaster said it would be inside his study", Zaerini said. "Can you tell us how to get there?"

The imp grinned and rubbed its armpits, after which it smelled its own fingers carefully. "Through Tests", it said. "Is only way once Test has started."

"So how do we go about taking these Tests?"

Nimus giggled again and waved his small hand. A door appeared hanging in the air before him. "Through there", he said. "Is lots of fun. Nimus likes watching, seeing students go splash."

"Go splash?" Edwin asked in an apprehensive voice.

"Oh yes. When students fails, tests get very, very messy. Is very funny, but poor Nimus has to clean walls of gunk. That not so funny."

"Particularly for the students. (I'd like to kill Ulcaster for neglecting to mention that little detail if it wasn't for the fact that the bastard is already dead.)"

"We can't do anything about it", Rini said. "We have to go on."

"Not so fast", Nimus said. "First, you become proper students or Tests not work right. Nimus fix. This will be soooo funny!" The little imp muttered something and before either the bard or the wizard had the time to react a swirling rainbow-colored cloud sped towards them and enveloped them entirely. Zaerini tried to cry out but the sound that came out was oddly shrill. The colors were fluttering all around her, pressing in at her like a swarm of maddened butterflies, and her entire body was tingling. She felt…so…strange…

She was lying on her stomach, her nose almost touching the cold stone floor beneath her. Zaerini blinked and raised herself up on her elbows. Funny. There was something about the shape of her hand… Then she gasped. Her hand wasn't her hand anymore. Or rather, it wasn't the hand she'd woken up with this morning, though it was still very much attached to her arm. This hand was small and rather dirty, the nails thoroughly chewed. Her arms and legs were thin, and even more importantly, short. Her body was much smaller than it ought to be, and much flatter. It might as well belong to a boy. And her voice had sounded awfully squeaky…

_I can't believe this_ , the half-elf thought. _I'm a child!_ Without a mirror it was difficult to tell how old she was but judging by what she could see of herself she ought to be eight or so. 

"Oops!" a giggling voice said out of empty air. "Nimus almost forgot…" 

And Zaerini felt something like a warm blanket settling around her mind. When the feeling passed, she wondered what she'd been thinking before. There was nothing wrong with her. She looked exactly like she was supposed to look, except that she couldn't think why she'd be wearing black leather trousers and a matching vest. It wasn't the sort of thing Gorion would normally let her get away with. Oh, well. She might as well enjoy it while she could. It really looked neat. Like something a grownup would wear. 

The little girl got to her feet and looked about her. She was in a large room, completely empty but with several doors leading out of it, illuminated by a soft and pleasant light with no obvious source. There was a large stone statue next to each door, each one portraying a different animal. The closest one was a bear standing on its hind legs, its jaws open and growling, and the next one seemed to be a large dog. No, a wolf. Apart from the doors and the statues the room was quite empty. Quite empty, that was, except for the other person occupying it. 

A small human boy was sitting on the floor on the other side of the room, looking rather confused. As he saw the approaching half-elf he hurriedly got to his feet and gave her a suspicious look. He seemed to be her own age, but it was with no little satisfaction that Rini noticed that he was actually shorter than she was. She was so tired of being the smallest child around Candlekeep. Even Immy was taller than she was, and **she** was younger. It just wasn't fair. The strange boy had dark eyes and tousled black hair that looked like it hadn't seen a comb in days. Rini felt instant sympathy. Her own red locks steadfastly resisted all Gorion's attempts at producing anything faintly resembling neatness. She couldn't really see the point of neatness anyway. It wasn't as if it was going to last. Strangely enough the boy was wearing what seemed to be actual mage robes, colored a rich red. There were a few splatters of black ink on his hands and another on his cheek. 

"Hello", Rini said cautiously. She'd learnt the hard way that most of the children at Candlekeep viewed her pointy ears and weirdly colored eyes with extreme hostility. Imoen was her friend, but none of the others really liked her, even when she tried to be nice. Still, if this kid wanted to jump her, she was fairly sure she could beat him up, and just standing around staring at him seemed pretty stupid. "I'm Rini. Who are you?"

"I'm Edwin Odesseiron", the boy said, sounding like he expected her to be impressed by this fact. His face fell a little when the half-elf didn't react with anything but a blank look. "Where are we?"

"I'm not sure", Rini said. Now that she thought about it, she really couldn't remember how she'd got here. "The last thing I can remember is that I was climbing the tallest apple tree back home when I heard this really odd voice and lost my grip. Then I was here."

"Really?" the boy said. "That's weird. I was doing homework, and I think I fell asleep. When I woke up, I was lying on the floor. Now that you mention it, I think I heard a strange voice too." He rubbed absentmindedly at the inkspots on his hand. "And that essay on basic enchantments was due tomorrow too… I've gotta get home or I'll be in big trouble!"

"You're a wizard?" Rini asked. 

"Sure! I'm a great wizard! The greatest who ever lived, probably." Edwin struck a dramatic pose, and then he noticed the girl's skeptical look. "It's true! At least it will be once I grow up." He looked at himself with some puzzlement. "I kinda wonder why I'm wearing red though…I'm not supposed to do that till I get older." He watched Zaerini with obvious interest. "Say, you have really strange eyes, did you know that?"

_Oh great_ , the girl thought. _Here we go again_. "I know that!" she retorted. "I do look in the mirror now and then you know. And if you say anything about how weird or ugly they are, I'm going to hit you. Hard."

"I wasn't going to!" Edwin said. He sounded a little insulted. "Well, they **are** weird, but not ugly. I think it looks kind of neat, actually. Reminds me of the tiger at home."

"You have a tiger?" Zaerini asked, completely forgetting her anger. "That is so awesome!"

"Well, it's stuffed." Edwin grinned. "But I've put this cantrip on it, so I can make it growl just like a live one. You won't believe how much fun I've had with that."

"I think I do", the half-elf said, her quick mind recognizing the endless possibilities for fun with unknowing strangers. _Or Ulraunt…_ "So what about its eyes then?"

"Oh. Well, its eyes are yellow, sort of like yours, except they're glass of course. That's what you reminded me of. The yellow part, not the glassy part."

"Gee, thanks."

"Are you an elf then? Your ears are sort of pointy…"

"Half-elf."

"Really? I don't think I've ever met a half-elf. Say, is it true that you can see in the dark?"

Rini nodded proudly. "I can see anything that's live and warm", she said. "It's kind of hard to explain. There's this sort of red glow around people that I can see even when it's all dark around."

"That sounds useful."

"It sure is", Rini said, pleased at this opportunity to have her mixed heritage viewed with envy rather than with resentment. "Makes pulling pranks lots easier. I can usually see people coming long before they see me. They never could prove what happened to that cake…"

Edwin sighed. "Wish I could do that", he said. "Then I wouldn't have got detention last week. It wasn't as if I meant for those toads to get into the soup. It was an accident waiting to happen, I tell you."

Rini laughed. And then she cocked her head in surprise at the sound that emerged from the backpack she was wearing. It was a tiny meow, and it was followed by a fluffy black head. A small black kitten crawled out of the pack and into the girl's arms, blinking sleepily at the two children. "Softy!" the girl exclaimed and hugged the kitten who protested loudly. "That's a good kitty!"

_Hey!_ The voice inside Rini's head was small and petulant. _Stop squeezing me! Where's my dinner, anyway?_

"She's yours?" Edwin asked, a look of total adoration on his face. "She's really yours?"

"Yep", the half-elf said with a big smile and stroked the soft fur. "She's my familiar. Isn't she great?" Something was strange though, Rini thought. She knew that what she said was true, but she couldn't remember exactly when she got her cat. How could she have forgotten a thing like that?

"She really is…", Edwin said. "Wish I had a familiar too. I had a monkey once, but that didn't really work out. I can't believe you have a familiar of your own!" He looked really envious.

"Um…want to hold her a bit? If she lets you?"

"Can I? Really?" The boy eagerly held out his arms to the kitten and held her carefully while he petted her. The kitten started to purr softly. 

"So", Rini said after a while, "how d'you suppose we got here? And how do we get back?"

"I guess it's some kind of curse", Edwin said, his small face frowning as he thought the matter over. "But I don't know how it could have happened, and I don't know what curse it is. And that's kind of strange, I know lots of curses. I guess we just have to go on and see where we wind up. Unless it's a dream of course." He reached over and pinched the Rini hard on the arm.

"HEY! What did you do that for?"

"I wanted to see if it was a dream."

"Then you should pinch yourself."

"Why would I do that? That would hurt."

"I'll give you hurt!" The half-elf threw herself at Edwin, knocking him flat on his back. Within seconds the two children were engaged in an informal wrestling match that ended with them rolling all over the floor until they collided with a statue of a large snake. They were more or less evenly matched and all in all the fight was a very satisfying one. Neither got really hurt and when they saw the huge stone snake stare down at them with a disapproving look in its eyes, they both broke out in wild giggles. 

"Truce?" Edwin asked. 

"All right. But you'd better not pinch me again. D'you suppose we ought to go through one of these doors?"

"Guess so. But which one?" The two children wandered around the room, examining all the statues. Eventually they settled upon the snake, mostly because Edwin insisted that snakes meant luck. The door opened easily enough, and they went through it with Softpaws once again safely tucked into Zaerini's pack, still bickering about whether the snake statue was supposed to be a cobra or a rock adder. So preoccupied were they that they hardly noticed that the door disappeared behind them, blocking the way back. 

The children came out inside a dimly lit chamber, and it took a few moments for them to get their bearings. Then they saw what was inside the room with them and they both screamed like banshees. 

The large lizard was easily the size of a pony, although with shorter and more bowed legs. It was a dusty and uneven brown, and when it slowly opened its mouth Rini could see that its teeth were as long as her hand. 

"Basilisk!" Edwin gasped; his voice filled with dread. "Don't look at it or it'll stone you!"

"I know that", Rini hissed. "Keep it down!" The basilisk was lying on the far side of the room, yawning. The two children had managed to awaken it with the scream they had uttered as they entered the room, but it hadn't yet spotted them. The room was more of a large cave than an actual room, with a low stone ceiling from which stalactites hung. Water dripped endlessly into a dark pool near one of the walls and the light was dim. At one end a shining sword hung on the wall, and next to it stood a large shield partially covered by the dark red cloak that hung over it. What little could be seen of it gleamed brightly.

"Keep it down yourself!"

"You started it!"

"Did not!"

"Did too!"

"Did not!"

"Did too!"

"Not, not, not!"

"Too, too, too!"

"Not, infinity!"

"Ha! I declare this Opposite Day! That means you just admitted it!"

"Ha! I've got a Magic Mirror to reflect your Opposite Day, and that means I win. Nyah!" Edwin stuck his tongue out and gave Rini a triumphant look. The half-elf girl responded by sticking her thumbs in her ears, wiggling her fingers and making herself as cross-eyed as she could. 

_Are you going to be much longer?_ The voice of Softpaws inside Rini's head was petulant. _I want to play now. Can we hunt that big lizard that's coming over this way?_

Zaerini swallowed loudly. In her eagerness to win the argument she'd quite forgotten about the basilisk. Now she could hear scratching noises rapidly approaching from behind, like claws and scales scraping against a stone floor. "Uh-Oh…", she said and gave Edwin a worried look. "I think we're in trouble. Big trouble." The slightly panicky look in the boy's dark eyes told her that he'd just realized the same thing. 

"Um…no problem", Edwin said. "I've got a plan."

"What plan?"

"RUN!" He immediately followed his own advice and took off like a rabbit on fire. Rini was startled for a second, but then she soon caught up with him. She was clutching her kitten, so she couldn't run as fast as she might have otherwise, but Edwin was slowed by his mage robes. He had to keep a steady grip on them in order not to trip. It would have looked funny if it wasn't for the growl of the basilisk nearing them from behind. Rini wanted nothing more than to look over her shoulder to see how close it was, but she didn't dare. Then she suddenly felt something yanking her arm.

"In here!" Edwin yelled and pulled the startled girl along with him and in behind the great shield. Both children huddled on the floor, their hearts beating like the fluttering wings of trapped birds, their breathing quick and shallow. They could almost feel the hot breath of the basilisk by now. "O-on the count of three", Edwin said, holding a corner of the red cloak covering the shield in a death grip. "One…two…THREE!" The children hurriedly yanked the cloak off even as the basilisk was about to raise its scaly paw to knock the shield aside. 

Silence. More silence. All was deathly quiet, except for the frenzied sound of frightened breathing coming from behind the shield. "T-think I should go look?" Rini eventually said, her voice trembling. 

"No!" Edwin was very pale. "Suppose it's just lying in wait for us? You could get killed!"

"Well, we can't stay here forever, can we?"

_You're boring me_ , Softpaws declared. The small black kitten twisted out of Zaerini's arms and slipped out from behind the shield, ignoring her young mistress' protests. _I want to play now._

"Softy!" Rini screamed and ran after the cat, only vaguely aware of Edwin coming after her, yelling for her to stop. Then she did stop, and the boy ran into her back, causing them both to wind up on the floor. Once they had managed to figure out which arms and legs belonged to whom they both stared at the sight that met them. The enormous basilisk was standing motionless in front of them, one paw still in the air, snout wide open to display the terrible poisonous teeth. It was now an even gray, a mere stone statue of itself. In the shining surface of the large shield the basilisk's reflection still looked back at it with mute horror. Softpaws was crouching in front of the beast, hissing loudly and batting at it with a tiny paw. 

_Hssst!_ the kitten spat. _Die, creature! I'll catch you wherever you run! Then I'll let you go, and then I'll catch you, and then I'll let you go, and then I'll catch you, and then…_

_Softy! It's dead already._

_Oh. I knew that_. The kitten licked her nose and looked tremendously embarrassed. _I just wanted to see if you'd noticed. What are you staring at anyway?_

"Wow…", Edwin said and touched the gray snout of the basilisk. "It really worked! Wait till I tell everybody at home that I killed a basilisk all by myself! They'll **have** to let me try demon summoning now."

"Ahem…" Rini said, clearing her throat in a meaningful fashion and pushing her red hair out of her eyes. "We killed it, remember?"

For a moment Edwin looked as if he was going to protest this idea, but then he grinned. "Oh, all right. I suppose you helped. A little. But it was still my idea. I'm so clever that all the cleverness is almost leaking out of my ears! Say, when I become a Great Wizard you can be my assistant if you like. You're actually pretty brave."

"Don't be silly. I'm going to be an adventurer on my own. You can be **my** assistant if you want." Rini thought about this for a few more seconds. "Or we could be each other's assistants, I suppose. Then we could both be in charge as well." 

Edwin was just about to answer when a deep and booming voice spoke out of empty air. "You have passed the Test of Cunning", it said. "Like the snake, you have proved yourself capable of disabling a foe larger and fiercer than you are. You may proceed, once you find your way." 

The two children looked at each other. "Do you remember anything about Tests?" Rini asked, a puzzled look in her golden eyes. 

Edwin shook his head. "Nope", he said. "Last test I had was two weeks ago, on elementals. Sometimes I get unannounced ones, but nothing like this, nothing really dangerous."

"Me neither", the half-elf girl said. "Gorion wouldn't allow it. I guess we'll find out what's going on soon enough. Anyway, it was rather clever dealing with the basilisk like that. How did you know?"

Edwin preened proudly. "I know lots about strange beasts", he said. "It's my favorite subject and I'm really excellent at it, that's why I'm going to be a Conjurer one day. I remembered that if you can get a basilisk to look at itself in a mirror it'll turn itself to stone, and I figured the shield would work." His smile turned dreamy. "I tried to hatch a basilisk under my bed once", he said.

"WHY?!"

"Just to see if I could do it. You know. An exp…expri…peri…exrip…thingy. Like grownups do when they want to find out how something works." His small face darkened a little and settled into a pout. "But then I got found out. You won't **believe** how much trouble I got into with my teacher over that. He said that it was 'at least considerate of me to try to kill myself in a manner that would leave my poor grieving parents with a memorial effigy.'" As he spoke the last sentence his voice changed subtly, taking on a highly sarcastic note.

"Ouch", Rini said, wincing. 

"Tell me about it. So, want to see about getting out of here?"

"All right."

The children circled the walls of the room until they eventually came across a door that had appeared opposite the one they had entered through. It was small, so small that a grownup couldn't have walked through it without crouching and there were silvery runes written all over it. "That's elvish", Rini said. "It says…let's see…'The Test of Persistence lies ahead. Wizard, follow in my footsteps, stand fast against all hardships, and you shall prevail. Falter, surrender, and you shall fail.' And there's a picture of a wolf next to it, see?"

"I suppose that makes sense", Edwin mused. "I've heard that they can run for days and hardly stop at all. So how do we open the door?"

"Dunno. It doesn't say." The half-elf pushed at the door, without getting any result. "Think it's magical?"

"Guess so." Edwin drew himself up to his full and rather unimpressive height. "Leave this to me. I know all about unlocking spells. Don't you worry, I'll get us home in no time at all."

"I'm not worried", the redheaded little girl said with a small shrug. "But it's nice of you to care all the same. Go ahead then." 

Edwin started ticking spells off on his fingers, muttering to himself all the while. "Let's see…there's 'Bigby's Crushing Ram'…can't cast that one yet. Pity, that would be fun. And Senile Scaramangi's 'Oops, Not Again'. But that one only works when you've locked your own keys inside. Or maybe…yes, it's worth a try. 'Burglar's Delight'." He moved his hands in a complicated pattern and said 'Burglaris Beneficialis' in a loud voice and then pushed at the door again. Nothing whatsoever happened. "Oh", Edwin said, looking disappointed though he tried his best to hide it. "I guess there must be a really powerful ward spell on that door if it holds against even my magic."

"Or maybe", Rini said, "it's because this door opens outward, not inward." The girl had been kneeling by the door while Edwin rattled through his spells, examining it closely until she found a small and almost invisible handle. Now it swung open easily as she pulled at it and a dark tunnel became visible.

"Well", Edwin said, holding on to the shreds of his dignity, "I suppose that could be it. I would have figured it out in a moment, you know. Probably sooner."

"As if", Rini said and picked up her kitten.

"Would so!"

"Would not!"

As they passed into the tunnel the sound of their bickering voices was abruptly cut off when the door swung shut behind them, leaving them in complete and impenetrable darkness. The door shimmered for a moment, then winked out of existence. There was, once again, no way back. 

It was pitch dark. Rini couldn't see anything of her surroundings, but she sensed that she was inside a narrow tunnel. The air didn't move enough for it to be another large cave. She reached out a hand to touch a smooth stone wall. Once her eyes adapted to darksight she could make out Edwin by the red glow of his bodyheat. The boy was still standing where the door had been, looking about himself nervously, but obviously without seeing anything at all. "Um…Rini?" he said, and his voice trembled just a little bit. "You still there?" 

"Right here", the girl said and reached out to touch his arm. 

Edwin jumped into the air with a yelp and banged his head on the ceiling. "Don't do that!" he said in a plaintive voice. "You spooked me half to…er…that is…"

"Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you."

"I wasn't scared! I'm never scared! I was just…surprised. Er…can you see anything at all?"

Rini shook her head and then remembered that her new friend couldn't see her. "Just you", she said. "Oh, and Softy of course. You don't know how to conjure mage light, by any chance, do you?"

"I already tried", Edwin said. "It doesn't seem to work in here." He sighed. "I really wish I could see in the dark like you can", he said. "There's a spell that does the same thing, but it's divination."

"So?"

"Don't you know **anything**? I'm supposed to do conjuration magic when I grow up, remember? And that means I can't do divination or my mind will grow into all the wrong shape."

"Your mind already is the wrong shape", Rini muttered. "I was only asking, you know."

_Are you coming or not?_ Softpaws asked. The fluffy kitten sat on the floor, the red glow surrounding her making her take on an almost hellish appearance, apart from the fluffiness that was. _I want to go hunting. See all these tracks? I bet I can make a major kill if I can just sneak up on whatever made them…_

Indeed, there were tracks on the floor, footprints glowing with warmth. They had to have been made from magic. No real print would stay warm long enough to give off visible heat. They were animal prints, paws and hooves mixed all together before leading off in different directions and into different tunnels. "Wow…” the young girl said. "That's really neat…" She described her findings to Edwin.

"I guess we're meant to follow one of them", the boy said. "But I don't know how we're going to figure out which."

"I do! There was a wolf on the door, remember? That has to be it!" Then the half-elf remembered something, and she felt a keen sting of disappointment. "Except I don't know what wolf prints look like", she admitted. 

"I thought elves knew all about animals and forests and things like that."

"Duh! I'm a half-elf remember? And besides, forests are boring. Just a lot of trees. Nothing exciting happens in stupid old forests."

"Well, it so happens that I know what wolf prints look like. I read it in a book." Following Edwin's description, the two children were eventually able to work out which prints looked like they could belong to a wolf. 

"Guess we'd better get going", Rini said. "Here, hold my hand."

"I'm not holding hands!" Edwin exclaimed, sounding mortally offended. "What do you think I am, some sort of scared little baby?"

"No, I think you're a human and unable to see in the darkness. Do you want to get lost in here?"

"Oh. I guess that's all right then. As long as you remember, I'm never scared." His grip on her hand was very tight though, and made the half-elf decide that he was probably lying. She didn't press the issue, however. After all, she really didn't want him to go and get himself lost. 

"I hope there aren't any traps in here", Edwin suddenly said as they were about to enter the next tunnel. "Only…I've heard some stories about dungeons. And about traps. Like these big spike traps that tear you to pieces, or the ones with giant boulders that smash you, or the ones with fireballs that burn you all up…"

"Immy likes traps too", Rini said, suddenly feeling very worried. "She told me that they're impossible to see unless you're a trained thief…"

"I mean…I enjoyed those stories when I was at home, but it's a bit different when you're actually in a dungeon, isn't it?"

"Yeah…Well, we can't do anything about it. Pity we don't have a thief here."

"Yes", Edwin said with a deep sigh. "Pity." 

The children walked in quiet for a while, Softpaws running ahead of them as they followed the wolf prints though the twisting labyrinth of tunnels. They were still holding hands. Rini decided that she rather liked that. It felt good. The darkness was oppressive, and she couldn't help thinking about how many dangerous monsters might be waiting around the next corner. Besides, it was boring the way she couldn't see anything of her surroundings except those footprints. "Wish there was some more light", she said. "We could stop to play some." 

Edwin nodded. "That would be fun", he agreed. "But maybe we'll get out soon. Hey, I have a great idea. Once we get out, how about if I ask whether you can come over to my place and play some time?"

"Sure! I'd like that. And you can come over to see me too, Gorion won't mind."

"Is Gorion your father?"

Rini paused and when she spoke again her voice was tinged with sadness. "Yes", she said. "Well, my birth parents are both dead, but he's the best father anyone could have. I wish he was my really real one. Sometimes I pretend that he is." 

Edwin's grip on her hand tightened a little. "I'm sorry", he said. "I know how you feel. Er…not that my parents are dead or anything, but…um…nevermind."

"Thanks. It could be much worse, I guess. I mean, I don't even really know my parents, they died while I was still too little to remember them. And Gorion really loves me, so I guess he's all the father I'll ever need, you see."

"Yes…yes I see. I suppose you're right. So…anyway…what kind of games do you like to play?"

"Oh, lots of kinds. Reading, climbing trees, going swimming, card games, pretend games…Once my friend Immy and me pretended that we were evil dragons."

"How do you do that?" Edwin asked, sounding very interested. 

"Well, mostly we jumped out at people from behind corners and roared at them. Then we thought that we ought to learn how to fly so we could be proper dragons. So we made ourselves a pair of wings each." She frowned. "Gorion caught us before we could try them out though. I still think they would have worked. Don't know what all the fuss was about." 

"Oooh!" Edwin said in a fascinated voice. "Wings, did you say? I'll have to try that when I get home. Sounds really exciting. I can see it now - Edwin Odesseiron, the Magnificent Flying Wizard. Or d'you suppose I should get a codename?" 

"Why?"

"So people won't know my secret identity, of course."

"But I already know your real name."

"Well, that's all right. You can know it if you want to, as long as you don't tell anyone. But if you have secret powers, you're supposed to have a cool secret name. It's part of the rules. How does 'The Boy Marvel' sound?"

Rini snorted. "Really silly", she said. 

"Oh. How about 'Mr Magnificent'? Or 'Magical Mayhem'? Or 'Red Lightning'? Or 'The Dread Wizard'?"

"The last one. Definitely. Got one for me as well?"

"Sure! Um…how about 'Hellkitten'?"

Rini grinned widely. "I like that!" she said. "Sounds dangerous." She made a growling sound and extended her fingers like claws. "Rrrrr! I'm the mighty Hellkitten, and if any mean old monsters turn up to fight me, I'll scratch their eyes out and eat their souls!" She giggled loudly and was happy to hear her friend join in. Suddenly the darkness didn't seem all that frightening anymore. 

The children walked on. Rini wasn't sure how much time had passed, but it felt like a really long time. She was starting to get hungry. Dreadfully, terribly hungry. It was like a small animal was trying to gnaw its way out of her stomach. She couldn't understand it, it was too much, too sudden. It was getting more and more difficult to see the glowing pawprints on the floor, she was so tired, and her head was spinning. More than once she had to stop and go back a little after taking the wrong path. And it was getting colder too, she was shivering like a leaf. Suddenly the tunnel came to an abrupt halt. The wolfprints simply disappeared under a wall. 

"What's wrong?" Edwin asked at the half-elf's horrified gasp. He, too, was obviously exhausted, his face was pale and drawn and more than once he had stumbled and nearly fallen. Once Rini had explained what she saw his lower lip started trembling. "No!" he protested. "That can't be true. You're…you're just making it up, aren't you?"

"No, I'm not", the girl said in a dull voice. She sat down with her back against the wall that stood in the way of their way out, half hoping that it would prove to be an illusion. Unfortunately, it was all too real. "We're trapped in here forever. We can't get out." She sniffed. The dreadful hunger was tearing at her insides. "I'm so hungry…and it's cold. I…I don't want to be here any longer. I want Gorion!" Tears started trickling down her cheeks.

Edwin had plopped down next to her, and he wasn't any better off than she was. "I'm tired!" he wailed, his head resting against his knees. "And freezing! I…I want to go HOME!" His thin shoulders started shaking violently with silent sobs. 

Both children cried until they didn't have the strength to cry any longer. Then they simply sat there for a while, huddling close to each other to try to keep warm. But it wasn't enough. Rini knew that they wouldn't last much longer before they froze to death. And yet…something stirred within her. Gorion had always said that she was the most stubborn child he'd ever known. If somebody told her something couldn't be done, she wouldn't give up until she'd done it. She wouldn't give up. She couldn't give up. And besides, she wasn't alone. She couldn't just lie down and die when her friend was in trouble along with her. "Hey…", she said, patting Edwin on the cheek. "Don't cry."

"I'm n-n-not crying! I j-j-just have a cold!" 

"Whatever. I just thought of something. There has to be a way out. Remember what that writing on the door said? 'Falter, surrender and you shall fail'? That has to mean that it's possible to get out as long as you don't give up. We'll just have to think of something. And we will. We're Hellkitten and the Dread Wizard, remember? We'll beat this dumb old maze yet."

Edwin sniffled for a few more moments, and then his face suddenly took on a determined look. "You're right", he said. "We'll make it." His eyes lit up. "Wait, I just remembered something!" He carefully extricated two rather crumbling and broken cookies from one of his belt pouches. "Here", he said, holding out one of them to his companion. "I stole these in the kitchen this morning. I can't believe I forgot about them." The smell was wonderful, sweet and spicy. Rini gulped the cookie down in just under ten seconds. When she was done, she felt a little better. Still a bit hungry, but less cold. "We should probably try to get some rest as well before we go on", Edwin said in a thoughtful voice. "Otherwise we'll probably just get lost. Except…I'm not sure if I can go to sleep in here."

The half-elf thought about this. "Here", she said. "Let me try something. I've done it for Immy sometimes, and for myself when I've had a nightmare." She cleared her throat and started singing softly. It was a silly little song she'd made up herself, about a knight in shining armor who rode out to rescue a princess from a dragon. In the song the knight ended up engaged to the dragon instead, mainly because he couldn't see very well through his helmet, and the princess ran off to become a powerful sorceress. 

"Mmm, I like that", Edwin said sleepily. He was leaning his head against the girl's shoulder by now and he had a smile on his face. "Stupid…knight. Wizards…much smarter…" His eyelids fell shut and his breathing became slow and steady. Rini carefully touched his face. He felt much warmer already. Good. She felt better herself as well, as she sang, she had felt a pleasant warmth spreading through her, and the hunger and fear was subsiding as well. With a pleased sigh she nestled closer to the sleeping boy, wrapping her arm around him. Softpaws settled onto her lap and added to the feeling of comfort and safety. Before long she drifted off into peaceful sleep. 

The children slept deeply, still huddling close to each other like a heap of sleeping puppies. Thus they were unaware of the voice that echoed through the chamber. "You have passed the Test of Persistence", it said. "Like the wolf in winter you have endured, defying hunger, cold and despair without surrendering to them. You have been found worthy, for a mage must be ready to suffer for his magic and not give up at the first obstacle. You may proceed." The children still slept, and around them the dungeon started rearranging itself into a new configuration.


	26. Dread Wizard And Hellkitten

**In The Cards 26 - Dread Wizard And Hellkitten**

_It's strange about memories. The same memories that make you want to dig a deep hole and bury yourself to get away from them, can also be the memories that make your heart sing. Sometimes they can even do both at the same time._

_Excerpt from 'Ruminations Of A Master Bard'_

Lovely warmth and softness all around. Rini yawned quietly without opening her eyes. It felt like drifting inside a warm cloud. She supposed she'd have to wake up eventually, but right now she was far too comfortable. Fluffy pillow beneath her head, warm blankets all around, fingers tugging gently at her hair, almost stroking it… Hold on. The small girl sat up abruptly in bed and winced with pain as the unexpected movement caused a sudden yank at her red locks. Her golden eyes blinked owlishly as she tried to get her bearings. 

She was in an enormous bed, one that could easily have harbored ten children her size. Amidst the clouds of drifting pillows and heavy blankets that surrounded her she could see that just one was present though. Edwin was sitting with his legs crossed under him, black hair tumbling messily into his eyes. He looked rather surprised and he still had a hand outstretched towards her. Next to him Softpaws lay on her back, still sleeping. The black kitten's paws batted at the air now and then. Probably she dreamt she was hunting. 

"What are you doing?" Rini complained. She wasn't really at her best when just awakened and this was no exception. "What did you go and tug at my hair for?"

Edwin looked at his own hand as if he'd never seen it before and then hastily hid it behind his back. "I didn't do anything", he said. "It was you who yanked. I just…held onto it."

"So why were you holding onto my hair in the first place?"

The boy suddenly seemed to get very interested in the ceiling. "Er…no reason. No reason at all."

"What, you mean you go around pulling people's hair for no reason?"

"I told you, I didn't pull. You did. You're just being stupid."

"And you're being mean!"

"No, I'm not!"

"Yes, you are!"

"No!"

"Yes!"

"No!"

"Yes! Admit it or I'll make you!"

"Ha!" Edwin gave her a superior smile and crossed his arms across his small chest. "You can't make me admit anything! I'm much too smart for you!"

"Oh yeah?!" The pillow hit Edwin square in the face and made him fall flat on his back. Softpaws hissed and jumped out of bed, seeking a more restful place to sleep. And it was probably wise of her to do so, for Edwin immediately retaliated, swatting Rini with a pillow of his own. Within seconds the two children had a very satisfying fight going, all the more so since they were evenly matched. Pillows flew through the air and the blankets were a sad mess. The children chased each other around the huge bed, giggling and hitting each other with the pillows, and this led to the interesting discovery that the bed was very springy. 

Rini smiled widely and turned to Edwin who also had an excited grin on his face. "You thinking what I'm thinking?" she asked. 

"I think so. Let's fly!" As they had both suspected the bed was perfect for jumping in, and you could bounce almost all the way to the ceiling with hardly any effort at all. 

"Wheee!" Rini cried out. "I'm * bounce * flying like an eagle! * bounce *"

Edwin was occupied with trying to bounce from a sitting position to a standing one and then back again. So far, he managed to succeed about a third of the times. "Check out my * bounce * lightning reflexes!" he boasted to the girl. "Bet you can't * bounce * do this!" At this moment his bragging caused him to forget to pay attention to where his feet were going, and he fell on his face.

"Maybe… * bounce* But why would I * bounce * want to?"

The unfortunate bed gave in long before the children did, sagging to the ground with an agonized groan that caused Edwin and Rini to break out in a new fit of giggles. The two children lay on their backs, panting and hot. The bedclothes were a ruined mess and all the feathers drifting in the air made the room look like it had just been subjected to a snowstorm. The children had so many sticking to their hair and clothes that they looked like they had just been out playing in said snow. "That was fun, don't you think?" Edwin said.

"Sure was!"

"Want to do it again?"

"Maybe later." The half-elf girl rolled over on her stomach and climbed out of the bed. "I want to see where we are first."

_You're late for breakfast, that's what_ , Softpaws said. _If you're not coming soon I'm having yours too, just so you know._

The walls of this room were stone as well, but this stone was a warm and inviting red, smooth and radiating warmth. Soft and flickering light played along the walls, though there was no obvious fire or other source of light to be seen. Apart from the bed there was a large wooden table and two chairs, and on the table, breakfast had indeed been set out. Rini stared at the feast, her eyes wide. Anything she could ever have wanted was there. Bread and cheese, sausages and ham, eggs, a large assortment of fruit, fried mushrooms, pancakes…even a large chocolate cake with pink glazing on top. Softpaws was sitting in the middle of the table, eating the last of what had been a plate of exquisite salmon. "Breakfast…" Edwin said, his voice filled with longing.

Rini kept staring at the cake, her mouth rapidly filling with drool. "Chocolate…"

Half an hour later the food on the table had been selectively diminished. The healthy food like the porridge, fruit and vegetables was mostly untouched. The pancakes and chocolate cake were nowhere to be seen however, except for the brown smudges on both childrens' faces. "Mmmm…", Rini said and licked her sticky fingers. "I love chocolate…" 

"Mmmm…", Edwin agreed. "Me too." His dark eyes lit up as he thought of something. "Know what else?"

"No?"

"There's nobody here to tell us to wash our faces or anything."

The girl grinned at this pleasant thought. "What is it with grownups and washing anyway?" she asked. 

"Don't know. I mean, if I don't care if my face is dirty, I don't see why they have to. It's my face, isn't it?"

"Yeah. Grownups are so weird…" Both children nodded solemnly in total agreement over this fundamental truth. "Know what I thought of?" Rini asked after a moment. 

"No?"

"There's no door to this room." She was right. The walls were smooth everywhere, completely unbroken, with not so much as a keyhole to hint at any door. There weren't any windows either.

Edwin seemed unperturbed by this revelation. "There has to be", he said. "Otherwise, how could they get the bed and the food in here? Or us? And if there's no ordinary door there has to be some sort of spell." As if in answer to his statement a note materialized on the table. Edwin picked it up, leaving more than one sticky fingerprint on it, and read it with a small frown on his face. 

"What's it say?" Rini asked, eagerly leaning forward across the table.

"It just says 'This is the Test of Truth. Truth shall bring freedom.' That's it, except for a drawing of an eagle." He threw the note on the table with disgust. "What kind of magic test is that? It's just stupid."

"It's a riddle", the half-elf girl said, thinking about it. She'd always been good with riddles. "I think…we probably should try being truthful about something."

"Well, that's easy." Edwin cleared his throat. "My name is Edwin, and I'm a mighty wizard." Absolutely nothing happened. "See? Stupid, like I said."

"I said truthful", Rini said in a meaningful voice. "Try again."

"Oh, all right", Edwin said, looking a bit sulky. "I'm Edwin, and I'm not a mighty wizard…yet." With a faint rumbling sound, a thin crack appeared in one of the walls, bright light leaking through it. 

"It worked!" Rini crowed and jumped up from her chair to try to peer through the crack. She couldn't see anything though. "All right…um…my turn I guess." She thought for a moment. "I'm an orphan, but I live with my foster father Gorion." The crack widened a tiny bit more. 

Edwin sauntered over, looking bored. "This is too easy", he complained. "Fine, I'll play along. My parents are Elvira and Galen Odesseiron, and they're both Red Wizards." The crack remained the same as before. "Now what?!" Edwin said, sounding very frustrated. "There's something wrong with the stupid spell, I wasn't lying, really I wasn't."

"I think I know what's wrong", Rini said. "The first ones were easy, like you said. I think we're probably going to have to tell more important truths to get it to open more."

"Like what?"

"I don't know…something you'd rather keep secret, I guess. Come on, I'm sure you can think of something."

"But I don't want to tell any of my secrets!"

The half-elf girl gave her companion a frustrated look. "Would you rather stay here forever?" she asked. "And you can forget about trying to make me do all the work. You have to help. Go on. I won't tell anybody else; I promise."

Edwin sighed. "Fine", he said. "I'll do it. But you'd better not tell anybody. All right…um…I still sleep with my stuffed bear in bed. I know I'm too big really, but I…well…sleep better when he's there. And I feel sorry for him if I keep him out." The crack widened a bit more. "And if you so much as whisper about it to anybody I'll curse you!" Edwin said. His cheeks had gone a bright pink. 

"Don't worry", Rini said, careful not to so much as smile. "Nothing wrong with that. And I wouldn't tell anyway. My turn again." She bit her lip and her face turned sad. "Sometimes…sometimes when the other kids at home tease me about being a half-elf…sometimes they almost make me believe they're right. I mean…I can talk back most of the time and I don't let it show…but…sometimes afterwards I still wonder if I'm really a…an ugly freak, like they say." 

"But you're not!" Edwin exclaimed; his voice vehement. "At least…at least I don't think so." The crack widened still further. It probably would be possible to stick an arm through it now. "Um…you know before…when we were lost in the darkness. I lied when I said I wasn't scared. I just didn't want you to notice."

"I know. But I don't mind. I was scared too, you know." The half-elf girl examined the crack. It wasn't quite wide enough for them to fit through yet, but almost. "Just a couple more", she whispered to herself. "Here goes." She steadfastly avoided looking Edwin in the eyes. "I…like you", she said, feeling heat rise in her cheeks. "You're funny, and smart, and nice to play with. I want us to be friends forever and ever."

Edwin's face was about as red as his robes by now and he was shuffling his feet about nervously. "I…er…like you too", he muttered. "I want to have you for a friend too. You're…you're clever, and brave and…and…" He whispered something unintelligible. 

"What?"

"AndIreallywastouchingyourhairbeforebecauseIthinkitlooksreallyreallyreallyniceandIjustcouldn'thelpmyself." 

BOOM! The crack exploded open to reveal a door large enough for both children to pass through side by side with no problem. "You have passed the Test of Truth", a disembodied voice spoke. "Like the Eagle you have shown yourselves capable of seeing far, without and within. The mage need not speak the truth, but he must nevertheless learn to see it. This is the third and last test. You may pass through to the Master's study. The children looked at each other, embarrassment quickly giving way to relief. Then they both whooped with delight and ran through the door. ‘

The children passed through the open door to find themselves in a very ordinary room compared to the ones they had recently passed through. There was a desk, cluttered with books, papers and quills, as well as a large crystal ball. Bookshelves overflowed with even more heavy volumes, and there were large and wobbly stacks of books all over the floor. A barrel held several magic wands and what seemed to be a stuffed alligator hung from the ceiling. On top of the crystal ball sat a red and horned little creature, with a wide smile that displayed an impressive collection of pointed teeth. "Students!" it said. "Nice students, clever little students to find their way here. And what a good game it all was too. Oh well. I suppose you did make it, so you'll have what you came for." The creature deposited a heavy book titled 'Dream Magic' in Rini's arms and handed Edwin a small mirror with a handle shaped like a dragon. 

"What's this?" the small boy asked suspiciously. "And who're you?"

"Me is Nimus, and this is what Master wants. You give to Master, he be happy and help you out. Or maybe you wants to stay here, hmmmm? Play all day? You make up your little minds now, Nimus doesn't have all day. Just tell him if you wants to go back or not. He can send you, yes he can."

The children looked at each other. "I…I would like to stay and play some more", Rini said, her voice hesitant. "But…I think I'd better go back. Gorion will get worried if I don't come home soon."

Edwin nodded. "I…guess I'd better go home too", he said. "It's been fun, but they've probably started looking for me." He looked a little nervously over his shoulder as if he expected somebody to materialize out of empty air behind him. "They won't be happy if I keep them looking when I'm able to get back on my own."

Rini hung her head a little. "So…I guess this is goodbye then?"

"I guess so." Edwin looked equally dejected. Then he suddenly smiled shyly. "Hang on. I've got something for you, now that we're friends and all." The object he held out towards the half-elf girl was a glass marble, about the size of a strawberry. It's outside was frosty white and looked like it had been covered by a multitude of tiny snowflakes. In the middle a tiny flame burned, flickering red and orange. Rini had never seen anything more beautiful. 

"Ooooh!" she breathed. "It's so pretty…is it really for me?"

Edwin nodded. "I've got more at home", he said. "I got a whole bag of them for my last birthday. That one's my favorite though."

"But don't you want to keep it yourself then?"

The boy looked puzzled. "Yes…but…I want you to have it more. I can't really explain it. I…guess I just want you to have it, so you'll remember that we're friends." Then he gasped with surprise as the half-elf threw her arms around him in a fierce hug. After a few moments he gathered his wits enough to hug her back.

"Of course, we're friends, idiot", the redheaded girl said. "And don't you ever forget it."

"Of course, I won't, nitwit", Edwin said affectionately. "And remember, we still want to figure out a way for us to play again. The Dread Wizard and Hellkitten, right? And I've got lots of great toys back home that I'd like you to see, like my enchanted chess set, or my Wild Wizard figures, or my Monster Manual, or…"

"You ready yet?" asked the imp Nimus, rubbing at his bottom. "Poor Nimus getting very itchy."

Both children wrinkled their noses at this statement. "All right", Rini said. "Send us back then." Edwin nodded his agreement. Softpaws gave an affirmative meow and climbed onto Rini's foot, tugging at her pants with sharp little claws. 

"Righty ho! Have fun kiddies, don't forget to write now, hear?" The imp waved his tiny clawed hands and the world dissolved into a multicolored haze. 

She was holding onto somebody, their arms wrapped around her. It felt comforting. Safe. Zaerini opened her eyes and stared directly into Edwin's face, only inches away from her own. For a few seconds she wondered why there were feathers all over his robe and chocolate stains on his face. Then her memory slammed back into place like a meteorite striking the ground and judging from the way the wizard's eyes widened and his mouth gaped open the same thing was happening to him. Bard and wizard sprang apart with a gasp of surprise and shock, and then they both almost fell as their brains tried to readjust to their now unfamiliar adult height. 

Zaerini looked wildly about herself. She was back outside the ruin of the school, and the ghost of Ulcaster floated in the air in front of her with a very smug look on his face. Next to him Khalid, Jaheira and Imoen were watching her and Edwin, all of them wearing very strange expressions. As for Edwin, she tried her best not to look him in the face, since that brought up all sorts of strange images and conflicting emotions. Not that it was very difficult to avoid, as the wizard was trying his best to hide inside the cowl of his robe, groaning quietly to himself every time a particularly embarrassing memory hit him. Softpaws sat on the ground, saying nothing, but giving Rini a look that clearly stated 'This is all your fault'. 

"Children?" Jaheira asked, and then frowned as both the bard and the wizard winced violently. "What is wrong?"

"Y-y-yes", Khalid went on, a worried look on his kind face. "And why d-do you both l-look like you've been r-r-rolling around in feathers?" He picked one out of Zaerini's red hair and looked at it curiously.

"Yeah!" Imoen said and pointed accusingly at Rini's face. "And isn't that chocolate? You might have saved some for the rest of us, you know." 

Jaheira's scowl was deepening by the second. "Feathers…chocolate…just what were you two up to in there?"

"NOTHING!" The word came out as more or less a double scream, not sounding particularly convincing at all. 

"Not…exactly nothing I…hope", the ghost of Ulcaster said, his hollow eyes twinkling cheerfully as he stroked his long silver beard. "There…was the small matter…of my book and my…mirror."

"Here", Rini snarled and thrust the requested items at the ghost. "Take them! You old bastard, you knew that was going to happen, didn't you? You might have told us!" She really, really wished it had been possible to kill somebody who was already dead. With every moment she kept remembering more things that she'd said…and done. _I'll never be able to look Edwin in the eyes again_ , she thought. 

"I…might have. But then…you would have refused. Couldn't…have that."

"Could you at least show us the courtesy", Edwin said, "of explaining why we just went through all of that?" His voice was wintry cold and the look he gave the ghost was nothing short of murderous. "I would hate to think that it was simply for your…amusement. (I'd like to squeeze him into a quivering heap of ectoplasm. Or force him to animate a stuffed toy for all eternity. Preferably a doll in a frilly dress.)"

"Certainly. This…is the book 'Dream Magic'. It, along with the…Mirror of True Seeing that you…fetched me, will allow me to…summon new students through True Dreams. Soon…the school of Ulcaster will prosper once more. I think…I'll get 47 students to start with. Nice number…magically significant."

"But you're a ghost!" Edwin protested. "How can you possibly be a teacher if you're a ghost?"

"I…will manage. And now for your…reward. Knowledge I promised…and knowledge you shall have."

"I suppose", Rini said, "it would be too much to ask for that you tell me something that's actually useful and not just cryptic."

"Useful it will be", Ulcaster promised. "The Mirror of True Seeing used…in conjunction with the…book…assures that. You may not…recognize the truth of the dream at once…or indeed remember it at first…but once you need it…the knowledge will help you. One dream…for you each…my two little friends. They will come…tonight." He winked and dissolved into mist, leaving only a ghostly chuckle behind.

_Somehow_ , Rini thought, _I can't shake the feeling that I've just been had._

The following hour provided both Zaerini and Edwin with a significant amount of torment. Their friends simply wouldn't cease questioning them about what had actually happened inside the school of Ulcaster, and the more they refused to answer the more insistent the questions became. Eventually Edwin declared that the arcane secrets involved would be perilous to anybody who hadn't actually been present.

"Why?" Imoen asked.

"Because I'll Fireball the next person who asks me about it", the Red Wizard hissed with a murderous look on his face. "Does that answer your question?" 

Apparently, it did. The inquisition ceased as the party made their way out of the mountains and onto the plains surrounding Ulcaster School. Rini kept staring at her own hands, half expecting them to turn back into those of her younger self. Every time she looked at Edwin she remembered something else. _And then he said…And then I said…and then…Aaaarrrrgh!_ Her thoughts spun madly inside her head. She knew she would have to come to terms with what had happened somehow though if she ever wanted to be able to talk to the wizard again. Once the adventurers found an appropriate campsite in-between some high cliffs, she hurried to draw Edwin aside, motioning for him to follow her out of earshot of the others. 

"So…", she said, trying to look casual. She didn't succeed very well.

"So…", Edwin replied, staring at his own feet.

"You…remember everything, don't you?"

"I…think so. Er…how about you?"

"I…think so. Yes." The bard held out a small object in the palm of her hand. A glass marble, frosty white but with hidden fire within. "It's strange…" she said. "I'm sure I didn't have this when we went inside that place, and yet I also have memories of having carried it on me since I was eight years old. I never could explain to Gorion where I'd got it, or why I was so attached to it either. I just kept telling him that I'd got it from my 'secret friend'."

Edwin nodded. "I…experienced something similar", he said. "A double set of memories. I seem to recall pestering everybody at home about my 'secret friend'. Yes. I think I even tried to get my mother to divine your whereabouts, but for some strange reason I could never remember your name, and so it wouldn't work."

"Funny. I tried the same with Gorion. I couldn't remember your name either."

"It seems", Edwin said, "that while our present-day bodies were…affected…by the spell, our past selves were somehow drawn forward in time to assume control of them. Very interesting." His voice sounded much calmer now that he could focus on something other than the emotional part of the experience.

"Yes", Zaerini said. "That seems to make sense. And probably we were made to forget each other’s names by the spell, so we wouldn't affect the present timeline." Concentrating on an intellectual problem was good. Theoretical magic would help her not think of certain other…things. Which was good. Of course it was. And yet…she couldn't forget about laughing herself silly with her friend. Or about falling asleep next to him. Or the way he had looked at her when he gave her his treasured toy. She didn't want to forget those things. Childish of her, no doubt. But somehow…she didn't care. Even if he couldn't possibly be interested in anything other than forgetting the whole thing as soon as possible. She spun the glass marble between her fingers, watching the flickering flame. "You know something?", she asked with a small smile. "I always thought that if I kept this on me always, I'd find you again someday. And…I'm glad I did. Dread Wizard."

Rini braced herself, certain that Edwin would retort with some sarcastic comment or other. And so she felt her heart skip a beat with surprise and relief when his mouth quirked upwards as well, his eyes glittering with reluctant amusement. "Actually", he said, "I suppose…so am I. Hellkitten." 

And night fell over Ulcaster, carrying true dreams with it under its black wings. 

Zaerini dreamt. Somehow she was also aware that she was dreaming, though she wasn't sure how she knew. She was wandering through an endless maze, every gray wall identical to the one that had come before it. The passages twisted and turned around her, constantly shifting and changing places. She was looking for something, she knew that much, and she knew that she would find it at the center of the maze. But she couldn't remember what she was searching for, and she couldn't find her way, even though she had tried every trick she could think of. 

_I'm not going to find it, am I?_ she thought, pushing her red hair out of her eyes with a worried frown. The passage she had been following ended in yet another wall. _And I'll never get out of here unless I do_.

And then there was somebody else in the maze with her. A woman stepped around the corner and paused warily in front of the half-elf. She was slender but strong like the narrow blade she held, and she moved with casual ease, like one well-trained in the art of combat. Her black hair was gathered into a neat braid, and dark and slanted eyes gave Rini a solemn look out of an olive-skinned face. A Kara-Turan, by the looks of it. She was beautiful, beautiful and deadly like sunlight glinting off a sword. Zaerini recognized her all too well by her movements and bearing. 

"You!" the half-elf hissed. "I know you; you were with Sarevok! You helped kill Gorion!" Before she knew what she was doing her sword had leapt into her hand and that familiar raging fire was rushing through her blood, screaming for blood, wanting to kill. But the woman simply stood there, a serious and sad expression on her face, waiting to defend herself but not actually attacking. 

_What am I doing?!_ Rini thought to herself. _I don't want to kill her! At least not like this!_

THEY KILLED GORION, screamed that other voice, the voice of her sire. SHE DESERVES DEATH! KILL HER! LET YOUR BLADE DRINK HER BLOOD!

_No, 'father'. I will not. She is here for a reason. I wish to know what that reason is, not simply slay her. Go back inside your cave. You won't win this time._

"Please", the woman said, her voice soft but with the hint of steel beneath. "I must speak with you. I ask you to listen to me."

"I'm listening", Rini said, her eyes still burning with hot golden fire. "Speak." 

"You are lost. You will need to find your way, and I have been sent to help you do that. You must come with me, or you will never get out of here."

The half-elf thought about this for a moment. "Fine", she hissed. "Lead the way. But if you're leading me into a trap you will be sorry."

"It is no trap." The woman's eyes burned with determination. "I will help you find the one you seek, and I will ask you to do something for me in return, though it will be your own decision to do so…or not. Follow me." She walked off into the labyrinth, and Zaerini followed her warily. After some time, they came to another passage. "Shhh", the strange warrior warned. "He waits within. Do not let him see you yet. Just watch."

Rini peeked around the corner, and then she was forced to choke down a cry. Within the next empty chamber of the labyrinth Sarevok paced back and forth, growling softly to himself like some sort of wild beast. He looked much as she remembered him, still wearing that atrocious spiky armor, still in possession of a tall and powerful body and an almost regal bearing. Golden eyes still glowed like open furnaces from within the darkness of his helmet. But something was different about him. His armor, as well as what little could be seen of his skin were gray, like the stone of the labyrinth itself. Gray and covered with thousands of minute cracks, as if he were a statue about to crumble into dust at any second. And from within some of those cracks light shone, a light that felt somehow evil and unholy. Sarevok seemed not to be aware of any of this. He simply paced, like an animal trapped in too small a cage. 

"You see now?" the strange woman whispered into Rini's ear. "We…we are losing him. The power is eating him, eating him from within, taking away that which makes him human. That…with which I fell in love. None of us can reach him. He does not know; he does not see. He must be made to see, or all will be lost." Her slim fingers seized the bard's arm in a firm grip. "It…it may be too late for me. But you may still be able to make a difference."

Zaerini watched the other woman uneasily. She wasn't sure quite what to believe about all of this. "Even if I believed you", she said, "why do you think I would help him? He killed my father. He wants to kill me. And even if I wanted to help him, what makes you think I possibly could?"

"You know better than that. You have felt the call of the blood, the call of the rage. You have killed and it has sometimes given you pleasure to do so. Already you have started to wonder what makes you different from him. For you are different, and yet alike. And in that may salvation for you both be found."

"Salvation?"

The woman's eyes were even more serious than before. "You will be given a chance to save him", she said. "And you must take it, you must try to draw him back to himself. If not for his sake, then for your own. Your fates are tied together. There will come a time when he must be there to aid you…or else you will certainly die."

Rini shivered. She didn't doubt that the stranger was speaking the truth, or that she thought she was. But it was all so…outlandish. _Me? Save Sarevok? And him helping me?_ It sounded insane. And yet…she believed it. "I…suppose I will try", she said. "If I can even remember this once I awaken."

The stranger smiled, and her face became radiant. "You will remember when you need to", she said. "And…I thank you. As will he, should you succeed." Her form shimmered and melted away, as did Sarevok and the labyrinth. And Zaerini slept, her sleep haunted by uneasy dreams of her brother. 

Edwin too, was dreaming, and aware of it. He dreamt that he was wandering across an endless plain, a plain divided into the perfect black and white squares of a chessboard. He wasn't alone, but his companions were making him increasingly worried. Next to him, on his right side, walked a large cat, almost the size of a leopard, but in the shape of a normal cat, holding her tail very high. Her beautiful coat was a brilliant red, the color of fire. For the cat was a 'she', of that the wizard was certain. The fur was soft beneath his questing fingers as he touched the back of the cat, so very soft. The animal turned her head to give him a look of amused indulgence, even affection. The golden eyes almost seemed to burn. And wherever the cat neatly put down a silent paw the ground did burn. Fire spread in her wake, leaving smoldering pawprints, now and then creating leaping flames, dancing and flickering as if alive and conscious. 

The cat wasn't his only companion though. On his other side walked a huge black wolf, his gait smooth and even, as noiseless as that of a ghost. The wolf carried himself with effortless pride, looking like he expected whatever he encountered to get out of his way…quickly. Edwin's left hand was almost buried in the thick and glossy fur of the wolf's neck, as deep a black as if it was made from pure shadow, warm and comforting to the touch, and he could feel powerful muscles ripple beneath. Then the wolf, too, turned his head to calmly regard the wizard, gifting him with a fond look as he bared an impressive set of white fangs in a lupine grin. There was frost clinging to the black fur, frost and a few snowflakes. Wherever the great paws of the wolf touched the ground it froze as well, snow and ice gathering in ever larger drifts. 

Edwin watched the two animals with growing unease. One on his right side, the other on his left. It seemed they had finally noticed each other by now, and neither was pleased with the discovery. The cat hissed, crouching and baring needle-sharp claws. The wolf lowered his head as if preparing to pounce, snarling silently. And Edwin was caught in the middle, holding on to both, trying to keep them apart. 

"You won't be able to do that much longer", said an arrogant voice. Edwin hurriedly turned his head to see who was addressing him. Then he gaped silently. It was himself, standing some distance away, wearing the same red robes he currently wore. His own face, identical in every detail, with a very superior look in the eyes. "Really, you ought to have figured that out yourself by now."

"You're…me?" Edwin asked, feeling very confused and still trying desperately to keep the two angry animals apart.

"Brilliant. Whatever tipped you off? The handsome face? The charming voice? The tendency to place your nearest and dearest in mortal danger?"

"There's no need to be like that."

"But there is. After all, who would you possibly trust enough to take advice from, either than yourself?" The copy paused for a moment and regarded the wolf and the cat. "Well, apart from them. But you can't really talk to them about this, now can you? That would only make things worse. And should ice and fire come to fight they will consume each other." 

"What do you want to tell me then?"

"Simply this." The copy looked extremely serious. "If you wish to keep them both safe, then you must let them both go."

"But I can't! They'll kill each other!"

"Not like that! Of course I don't mean for you to sic them on each other. Don't be absurd. No…you must drive them off. Make them keep their distance from you. That is the only way to protect them both. Not yet, but when the time comes." 

Edwin felt a sick, sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He looked from one animal to the other, not wanting to comprehend the words spoken by his twin. "D-drive them off…but…"

"Do you wish them to die, then? If you make the wrong decision, then one or both will. If you make the right one, then both will survive. Do you value your own immediate happiness above their lives?"

"No! NO! But…how…"

The eyes of the double were dark and filled with sorrow. "Your own words will serve you as they always have…on both accounts. I warn you now…words can hurt worse than any physical weapon. You will see. Go ahead now. Do it. Before it is too late. You know you have to."

And Edwin did. "Go away", he shouted to both animals. "Get away from me! Leave me! Leave me be!" He went on and on, repeating the same phrases over and over, cursing, screaming, sounding as hurtful as he could. And it worked. Oh, how it worked. The words struck both cat and wolf like whips, drawing actual blood. At first both persisted, staying by him, trying to make him stop, each trying to draw him closer. But in the end, they were both forced to give up, the pain of the whips too keen for them to endure any longer. They sprang apart, leaping in different directions. 

The red cat crouched on the ground, the blood of her wounds a darker red against her fiery coat. She licked at her wounds, but the blood kept flowing, hissing and steaming as it hit the flaming ground beneath her. She was baring her teeth at Edwin by now, hissing furiously, raising her paw as if to swat at him in her pain. The look in the burning yellow eyes was one of extreme hurt and confusion, but there was anger as well, anger and bloodlust. He wondered if she would spring and tear his heart out. He wanted her to. After all, he deserved it. But then the cat turned around, gave him a final accusing look across her shoulder and disappeared into the raging flames behind her. Gone. 

The wolf, too, bled from many wounds. The blood was almost invisible against the thick black fur, hiding the wounds, but red drops fell like a steady rain, blooming like crimson roses in the heavy snow at the animal's feet. The black wolf watched Edwin unwaveringly, looking almost incredulous at first. And then that emotion gave way to rage, rage as cold as that of the snow and wind themselves, but beneath that there was pain, both new and ancient. And Edwin knew that he had caused that pain, and he wanted nothing more than to bare his throat and feel those sharp teeth take his life. But the wolf simply threw his head back and howled, a mournful cry like that of a soul in torment, and then turned to disappear into the falling snow without looking back. Lost. 

Gone. Lost. They had passed out of his reach, and he couldn't get them back, couldn't undo what he had done. Edwin wanted to cry, to scream, to plead forgiveness. But he could do nothing. The giant chessboard was already fading, disappearing. 

"Remember", his double said to him. "What is gone may come back. What is lost may return. This need not be forever. And if you win through all will be well." But the words were small comfort, and as Edwin slept on, he walked in despair through his dreams, knowing himself all alone.


	27. Cat And Wolf

**In The Cards 27 - Cat And Wolf**

_Once you reach a certain level of skill most of your assignments will be easy. Far too easy, enough so to make you bored. Always beware boredom. When you finally face a stimulating opponent again you would do well to remember that the very reason they're stimulating is that they're dangerous. Far too many students have ignored this rule to their own detriment. Do not expect me to visit your grave if you do the same._

_Excerpt from 'Interview With An Assassin'_

There had been…something…about her dreams last night. Something important. So why couldn't she remember more than the vaguest of hints? Rini sighed with frustration, not for the first time. Sarevok. There had been something about Sarevok, but that was all she could recall. True, Ulcaster had warned her that the dream would be lost to her until the time came when she needed it, but it was still annoying. The half-elf sneaked a look at Edwin, wondering if the wizard was luckier than she was. Somehow, she didn't think so. He looked very preoccupied, as if he were puzzling over something. Eventually she had to ask him. 

"So", she said, trying to sound nonchalant. "Any significant revelations last night?" 

Edwin shook his head tersely. There were dark circles under his eyes, as if he hadn't slept very well. "Apart from the fact that Jaheira is capable of snoring like a cave bear, none." The bard's quiet snort of amusement made the hint of a smile cross his face. "If there were any important messages in my dreams, I really can't say that I remember them." His eyes darkened slightly. "And small loss that was. Something tells me they weren't particularly pleasant."

The journey back to Beregost was uneventful, thankfully. Zaerini kept mostly to herself, trying to think of what to do next. She had been putting things off, she knew. Putting off dealing with Sarevok. While there certainly was no guarantee that she would encounter him at the bandit camp, there was a possibility. She had told herself that she needed to prepare, that she needed to gain more experience in combat, more skill with her spellcasting before risking that. And that was all true, but it wasn't all the truth there was. She was afraid. Sarevok had stepped into her life and shattered it that day outside Candlekeep. And while she had managed to mostly piece herself back together, she knew that she would never be quite the same again. Not after seeing Gorion's body on the ground in front of her.

Her foster father had always been the most important person in her life, besides Imoen. But unlike Imoen she had trusted Gorion to protect her, to keep her safe from harm. She hadn't merely loved him; she had admired him tremendously. Throughout her childhood he had always been there whenever she needed him, always known exactly what to do about everything. Somehow, she had believed him invulnerable. And now he was gone, lost to her forever, and the same thing could happen to other people she cared about. If she wasn't clever enough, if she wasn't strong or brave enough that was a very real risk. She didn't know if she could deal with anybody else dying because of her. 

Once they reached Beregost Rini told her friends that she thought they should rest for a day or so, do any restocking they needed of provisions, and then set out for the Wood of Sharp Teeth. She was relieved that they didn't ask her what they'd do once they actually got there. The idea of simply walking into the bandit camp, assuming she could even find it, and announcing herself didn't sound very appealing. She excused herself to her friends before retiring to her room at the Jovial Juggler, telling them that she needed some time alone to think on things, to plan ahead.

Jaheira had said that she wanted to drop into Thunderhammer's smithy to see about having some repairs done to her armor and Imoen had pulled Khalid with her into the common room where a heated dart game was going on. The pink-haired thief had got much better with darts lately and she apparently thought she stood a chance to win some money. Edwin had muttered something about going for a walk and slipped out the door with no further comment. 

And now Zaerini was lying on her bed in the room she shared with Imoen, one arm beneath her head and the other petting her familiar. _It's just that I'm afraid to make a mistake_ , she admitted. _And I can't afford to do that, I think._

_Everybody makes mistakes sometimes, kitten_ , Softpaws said. The black cat was lying curled up on the bard's chest, regarding her solemnly with bright green eyes. _Even the cleverest._

_Maybe…but there are mistakes and mistakes. I just don't want anybody to…get hurt._

_That has always been a risk, so why are you worrying more right now?_

_I'm…not sure. Maybe it's because those bandits…they'll bring us closer to Sarevok, or so I hope. The danger somehow seems…more real. I know it sounds strange._

_Not really, kitten. And of course, there is also the matter of your own feelings. The more you care about someone, the more you worry…isn't that so?_

_I…I suppose so. But why…_

At that moment there was a timid knock at the door, and then Khalid's voice could be heard outside. "Zaerini? M-may I come in a m-moment?"

"Of course", the bard responded and went to open the door, Softpaws leaping down from the bed looking very annoyed at the interruption. The Harper smiled at Rini as he entered the room, sitting down at the table next to her. He had changed out of his armor and was wearing a simple dark blue tunic, loose and comfortable. His open and friendly face, always so easy to read, looked worried. _So different from Jaheira_ , Rini thought. _She never shows her emotions like that. Well…almost never_. Not for the first time she wondered how much older than her the other two half-elves were. Lots older than her, that was for sure, though it wasn't wrinkles or gray hair that showed it. Rather a certain look about the eyes, a knowing one that didn't quite match a youthful face. 

"I was a l-little worried about you", Khalid admitted, fiddling nervously with his belt. "You l-looked so s-s-sad before. I just wanted to check t-that you were all right." There was such honest concern in his kind eyes that Zaerini couldn't help herself. Talking to Softpaws had helped, but she wanted, she needed to let at least one of her two-legged friends know what she was feeling. And so, she talked, her words spilling forth from her lips in an ever swifter torrent, almost stumbling over themselves. She told him everything, her fears, her insecurity, her terrible worry that somehow her own inadequacies would bring her friends down along with her. It wasn't long before she felt her friend's arms around her, holding her tight, one hand smoothing her hair as he murmured comforting words into her ear. She even allowed herself to shed a tear or two.

"Thank you", Rini said once she was finally done. She was feeling much calmer already. "You're a wonderful listener, Khalid, do you know that?" 

Khalid blushed all the way to the tips of his gently pointed ears. "That's what J-Jaheira s-says as well", he started, and then he turned an even stronger shade of red that made his brown hair seem almost blond in comparison. "That i-i-is…what I was m-meaning to say was that we are your friends. All of us. We know there's d-danger ahead, but we a-a-a-accept that because we want to h-help you. You m-mustn't think yourself r-responsible for our f-fates. I know you do your b-best."

"But suppose my best isn't good enough?"

"What c-can anybody do except their b-best?" He smiled shyly. "Gorion was m-my friend, and I knew him well. He would b-be proud of you if he could s-see you now. S-so am I, and J-Jaheira. I know she m-may not say it often, b-but she really is. You will m-manage, and we will a-always be happy to h-help you."

"Thank you, Khalid. I don't know if you know how much it means to hear that."

Khalid blushed again. "I was o-only telling the t-truth", he said. "Nothing to t-thank me for. Well, if you are f-feeling better I suppose I'd better see how Imoen's doing b-before she bets away all our m-money." Having given Rini a final, brief hug he exited the door and headed downstairs again. 

_See, kitten?_ Softpaws asked. _Now do you believe me?_

_Of course I believe you. I just…needed to hear it from somebody else as well, I guess._

The half-elf sat in silence for a while, looking out the window. Dusk was settling over Beregost, and the shadows were lengthening by the minute, the sky turning from a deep dark blue to a velvety black. She could see a few stars, but the moon was only a pale sliver above the steep rooftops. _A fine night for burglars and other rogues to be out and about_ she thought. _I hope Immy's been practicing her skills as much as she says. We'll all need to be at our best when we go after the bandits, I think._

There was another knock on the door, and then it was immediately pulled open. Edwin stepped inside, a very strange look on his face. He seemed apprehensive, but at the same time also eager about something. "I need a word with you", he said without further preamble. "It is extremely important."

"Go ahead", Zaerini asked, feeling uneasy. Edwin being this frank about anything was unusual to say the least. He usually preferred long and wordy explanations for his actions. 

"You said before that you wish to enter the bandit camp without launching an outright attack. Isn't that so?"

"Yes."

"Well, it appears that I have found a way for us to do so." The Red Wizard looked as if he was thinking something over for a moment, hesitating over his next words. "I…have happened to meet with somebody who may just be able to help us approach his…associates."

The bard quickly worked her way through this. "You've been chatting with a bandit? When? Where?"

"Ah…just now", Edwin said, looking uncomfortable. "I went for a walk, you recall? I met him over at the Red Sheaf when I dropped inside for a drink. It appears he is in the area on business, recruiting new people for the bandits' operations. Me being a Red Wizard, he trusted me enough to approach me on the subject. I hinted that I knew some people who might be interested." When no immediate answer came, he went on. "It is an excellent opportunity, don't you think? We could get inside the bandit camp and strike at them from within."

"I suppose so", Rini said, hesitantly. It certainly seemed like a good idea. She wished she'd been the one to come up with it. "This…bandit though. Do you think he can be trusted not to lead us into a trap or something?"

Edwin didn't answer at once. When he did, he looked very serious, and his dark eyes were unreadable. "You will have to decide that for yourself I think", he said. "If you wish to meet with him, I can take you to him." He paused. "Just one word of advice", he said in a fervent voice. "Whatever you do, please try to be diplomatic. You don't want to anger him."

Frowning a little at this unusual restraint in her friend the half-elf nodded. "All right", she said. "Let's go see this bandit of yours. I'll get the others."

"No. Just you and me for now. I don't want my contact to get suspicious." It sounded reasonable enough.

"Fine", Rini said. "I agree. I just hope we won't have to regret this."

As she followed Edwin out the door, she heard him whisper something to himself. "So do I. So do I."

Rini hadn't really been inside the Red Sheaf since that dwarven assassin had tried to take her head off with an axe. As she passed through the door, she could still see faint traces of the bloodstains he had left behind. It was getting pretty late by now, and most of the customers were either leaving, being thrown out, or falling asleep on or below the tables. Edwin ignored them all, leading the way up a stair in the back of the room and into a narrow corridor. "Remember", he hissed as he paused before a closed door. "Diplomacy." Rini shrugged noncommittally and followed him inside. Then she almost ran into him as he stopped with surprise. The room was empty. Bare walls and floor, a bed, a table and a couple of chairs. That was all. A single candle still burned on the table, making the shadows of the bard and the wizard flicker across the walls as if in caught up in some strange dance. 

Edwin walked further into the room, looking equal parts surprised and frustrated. "I don't understand it", he said. "This is the right place. Where could he be?" He lifted the bedcovers as if expecting somebody to leap out at him from beneath them and then peeked under the table, pushing the chairs violently aside. "Maybe he's changed his mind? Maybe he got called away?"

"Maybe he went down to the bar to get drunk?" Rini suggested helpfully and looked behind the threadbare curtain, accidentally managing to yank it down. 

"Or maybe", said a frosty voice from directly behind her back, "he is still wondering if neither of you was ever taught that it is generally considered polite to at least knock on the door before starting to rearrange the furniture of your host. If you were, it would seem that you have both forgotten such simple courtesies." Rini felt her heart leap almost all the way into her mouth and she could hear Edwin make a very undignified throat sound. Then she turned around to see who had addressed them, fighting against the uncomfortable impression of having an intangible weapon pressed against her back.

A man was leaning nonchalantly against the wall next to the door, watching the bard and the wizard intently, his arms crossed across his chest. The black leathers he was wearing hinted that he probably moved in not exactly legal circles, what with the way they almost made him invisible in the shadows. _I didn't hear so much as a single footstep!_ Rini thought, feeling aghast as well as annoyed with herself. _And I'm supposed to have much better hearing than a human too. I should have heard something as he entered the room. Unless…oh no. He couldn't possibly have been inside all along without either of us seeing him, could he? That's just…freaky_. She forced herself to turn her attention back to studying the stranger. 

He was tall and lean, and had a certain look about him, something that subtly suggested a large animal getting ready to pounce. It was rather hard to tell his age too. Older than she, certainly, but by no means ancient. A sharp-featured face, made all the more so by the shadows playing across it, giving nothing away. Rather good-looking, actually, if in an intimidating cross-me-and-die manner. Cool black eyes stared directly into hers, weighing and measuring, and she couldn't shake the feeling that all the pertinent information about her was being neatly filed away for further reference with lightning speed. No obvious weapons were visible, but Rini strongly suspected that it would be extremely unwise to draw the conclusion that none existed. "Who are you?" she demanded, hoping she didn't sound too alarmed.

The stranger raised an eyebrow and the corners of his mouth quirked upwards in an amused smirk that also seemed vaguely...familiar. "I trust you were inquiring after my name and not after my full autobiography since the latter would take far more time to produce than any of us have. But as for the former…you may call me Adahn."

_Careful now. Mustn't underestimate this one. Too dangerous by far._

Zaerini watched the man opposite her, trying to decide what to make of him and hoping that he wouldn't notice her scrutiny. Adahn had politely pulled out a chair for her and then seated himself on the other side of the table. Edwin remained standing, hovering nervously between them. Rini couldn't quite make up her mind about this strange bandit. True, she hadn't exactly socialized with any bandits before, but whatever she'd been expecting it certainly hadn't been this curious blend of manners and menace. He was undoubtedly dangerous, but the danger wasn't an immediate one, or so she thought, though it was hard to tell for sure. And there was something else about him…something that kept nagging at her mind like an itch she couldn't quite scratch. She was quite certain she'd never met the man before in her life and yet he seemed strangely familiar. Something about the way he looked…or moved…or talked. She couldn't quite put her finger on it. 

"Are you quite finished cataloguing my every feature?" the bandit said, interrupting her thoughts. "Flattering as it is to have a charming young lady gaping at me, I'm hardly vain enough to consider it a sign of my having suddenly become irresistible to females. Perhaps we could move on to the business at hand instead?"

"Oh", Rini said. "All right." She cleared her throat. "Edwin tells me that you have…an offer of a sort to make us. Does that seem like a more acceptable topic to you?" She put just the smallest hint of sarcasm into her question.

"Indeed, it does", Adahn said, and the faint glimmer of appreciation that surfaced momentarily in those black eyes told Rini that she'd chosen the right course. Polite, but not too deferential. "I have been told that you have an interest in searching out certain people. Certain people who have recently been major players in the 'wealth-redistribution' around these parts. Is that not so?"

"It is."

"And might you also be interested in participating in any such further endeavors? Are you perhaps even seeking employment?"

_Careful now_ , Rini thought, studying the motionless face in front of her. _Play your cards close to your chest and set the bluff up solidly_. She was playing for high stakes, she knew, and for once she was uncertain whether she was the one with the winning hand or not. "We are", she said, making her voice flat and matter of fact, as mercenary as she could. "We need the money; we want to get ahead in the world and it seems like your people are the ones most likely to provide both for us."

"I see", the bandit said. "How very ambitious of you." He gave the bard a thoughtful look across steepled fingers. "However, you still haven't provided me with a good reason for trusting you - or for employing you. You'll need more than ambition to impress me, you know."

"What?!" Edwin sputtered. "But…you can't mean…you have to…"

"I 'have' to do nothing", Adahn said. "I thank you to remember that much. Or are you perhaps presuming to order me about?" His wintry smile suggested that any such attempts would be very much unappreciated and severely dealt with. 

"No", Edwin answered, sounding a little sullen. "No, of course not. I was implying nothing of the sort. (Ha. That would be the day. Likely the same day that Cyric gets married to Mystra and abdicates his office to celebrate their blissful union.)"

"How kind of you. I suppose I won't have to practice being deferential then."

_This is really getting eerie_ , Rini thought. _I've never seen Eddie that easily subdued by anybody._

_Envious, kitten?_ Softpaws remarked from her spot on the floor. The black cat had been watching the proceedings warily for a while, paying particular attention to the bandit. Now she silently padded over and rubbed herself against his leg, looking very imperious. Adahn gave her an amused look, but he did reach down to pet her. _Oh, very nice_ , Softpaws purred. _This one's extremely clever with his hands. At least as good as your wizard. Probably even better._

_Would you stop that? He's not **my** wizard. And how come you're suddenly acting so very cuddly with a complete and total stranger? One who, I might add, could try to kill me at any moment?_

_Don't be silly, kitten. Mmmmrrrrr! Yesss! Just a little lower down…perfect. He isn't about to kill you, at least not yet. He set this meeting up, remember? He wants something from you, he's just trying to pretend he doesn't. Anyway, I get the impression that he sort of likes you. I usually can pick up that sort of thing from people when they're touching me._

_You could have fooled me._ Rini thought her familiar was probably right about at least one thing though. The bandit must have some sort of interest invested in this meeting, something he hoped to gain. And that meant that her hand of cards consisted of more than just twos and threes. She decided to try to take advantage of the situation. 

"You mentioned something about impressing you", she said to Adahn. "While I'm certainly not about to get up and dance exotic dances on the table, perhaps this is a little more to your liking?" She didn't just speak the words though. Instead she used her power of mimicry to imitate the bandit's voice, down to the last sarcastic nuance. 

For a moment Rini wondered if she'd gone too far. It seemed that time stood still as she stared defiantly into the motionless face of the bandit in front of her. Her heartbeat roared in her ears and she could feel her stomach curl into a tight knot as those black eyes met hers without blinking. _I'm dead_ , she thought. _That's it. I'm dead_. Beside her she could hear Edwin gurgle quietly, quite gray in the face. 

And then the moment passed. Adahn laughed softly, looking genuinely amused. "Fascinating", he said. "A most useful talent, one that I wouldn't have minded having myself. Very well. You have at least managed to pique my interest. It would seem that you are more than you appear to be, even as I first suspected." He gently scratched Softpaws beneath the chin as he continued to speak, seemingly devoting his entire attention to the black cat who had by now leapt onto his lap. "That does bring another question to mind though", he said, his voice now so innocently casual that it set off a hundred loud alarm bells in Rini's mind. "Namely, exactly why the noble and illustrious Heroes of Nashkel, Beregost and Gullykin are thinking of going into banditry." 

_He knows!_ The sentence kept running feverishly through Zaerini's mind. _He knows who we are, and he never let it show! It's a trap, it has to be!_ Half of her mind was boiling hot with anger, preparing for battle. The other half had decided that the stranger probably could have made a living as an actor without a problem and that under other circumstances she wouldn't have minded exchanging a few tips and tricks with him. Her hand was already on the hilt of her sword, striving to draw it. For some reason Edwin was clinging furiously to her swordarm though, refusing to let go. 

"Don't be an idiot!" the Red Wizard hissed through clenched teeth. "You'll just get yourself killed!"

_Easy, kitten_ , Softpaws said. _He's not doing anything, see? Besides, it's quite difficult to attack somebody when you have a lovely cat sitting on your lap. I have claws too, remember?_

The fire in her veins subsided somewhat and Rini could think clearly again. As the heat of her bloodlust diminished, she saw that while she had got to her feet in her shock Adahn was still sitting quietly at the table, having made no obvious hostile move. The man even had the gall to look amused by the whole thing. "And now that that's over with", he said, "perhaps you would be kind enough to answer my question?"

While Zaerini was quite busy gathering her thoughts again Dekaras was equally busy evaluating her actions. _Gently now_ , he thought to himself. _This one is truly more than she seems. It won't do to underestimate her._ She was young and inexperienced to be sure, but he made a mental note of the fact that he hadn't exactly been harmless himself at her age. The assassin watched the girl opposite him as she sat down at the table once more, obviously struggling to keep calm. Poor Edwin looked truly shaken by her fit of temper, almost as if he had been expecting them to come to blows at any second. _He really ought to know me better than that. I've invested a lot of time in this assignment already. I'm not about to lose control of it now. And he really ought to be more used to hotheaded females, considering his mother's legendary temper. At least this one hasn't broken any furniture yet_. Dekaras watched the young half-elf for a few more moments, adding to his mental picture of her. Fiery red hair, and equally fiery yellow eyes. _The mark of her blood?_ he wondered. _Or something different?_ An attractive enough face, he supposed. A hot temper, yes certainly. Perhaps even enough to match that of a certain raven-haired wizardess. _I wonder what would happen if she ever got into a strong disagreement with Elvira_ , the assassin thought, feeling amused. _Probably there'd only be a crater the size of a small town left behind._

Most importantly, the bard was highly intelligent. It shone through in her every word. _Which is a good thing_ , Dekaras thought. _Dealing with a stupid woman might have been easier, but tedious beyond belief, even if it does mean I must be more careful than otherwise._ He had been pleased to notice that she had spunk too. That little voice-trick of hers had actually impressed him. Not just because of the mimicry itself, though it was certainly a useful talent. But she had also stood up to him in order to prove a point, and not let herself be easily intimidated. That, he respected. Of course, it didn't mean he intended to let her get away with trying to take charge. Revealing his knowledge of that ridiculous 'Hero' title had thrown Zaerini neatly off balance again, exactly as he had intended. Now to use that against her. It was much like a game of chess. You needed to keep a cool head and think strategically, to plan ahead, make multiple plans for different situations. And if your opponent lost their temper…so much the better. 

"I have no idea what you mean", the girl said defiantly. She didn't quite manage to sound convincing though. 

"Oh, come now", Dekaras said, using his mildest voice. "I happened to be in Nashkel at the time and saw the award ceremony." He pointedly ignored the chagrined look on Edwin's face. "Very entertaining, that was. Very…heroic." 

Zaerini rallied nicely. "So, you saw", she said, crossing her arms. "And what do you intend to do with your knowledge?"

"Do? Why, nothing except to make you an offer." The assassin carefully deposited the black cat on the table and rose to a standing position, taking full advantage of his height and the way his shadow loomed high on the wall in order to create a certain impression. "A business proposition, if you will." He couldn't help noticing that Edwin still looked extremely uneasy. The boy really needed to get a better grip on himself. "You want to destroy the bandits. Well, it just so happens that our goals coincide there. I want them out of the way as well, and I believe we are in a position to help each other. In fact, the only reason I ever joined them was in order to get close enough to them to attempt something like that." 

"Wh…why are you telling us these things?" Edwin asked. Obviously, the boy still hadn't figured it out. Dekaras would have preferred telling him earlier, but he hadn't been sure he could be trusted to keep a straight face. "Because", he said, "I much prefer telling the truth to telling lies if I am able to choose. It makes things so much less complicated." _And of course_ , he thought, _it makes the lies I do tell so much more palatable if they're wrapped in truth. But there is hardly a need to mention that little detail._

"And why do you want to pull down the bandits?" Zaerini asked, obviously not ready to agree to anything just yet. 

"That, I will not tell you. I do not expect you to tell me your motives either. We have a common interest, and that will have to be enough. You can either accept that or not. Or would you have preferred me to make up a sad story about how I'm out to take revenge for my poor betrothed who was slaughtered by the wicked bandits? I can if you want me to. You may even choose her hair-color and make up a name for her if you want." 

The half-elf laughed. "I'm almost tempted to take you up on that", she said. "I'd ask you to do it in verse, I think. Would be fun to see if you could pull it off." 

_Oh yes_ , Dekaras thought. _Very spunky. A most entertaining young lady._ He said nothing though, simply gave her a smile that more or less was a predatory baring of teeth. It had the desired effect as the bard immediately calmed down. _Won't do to let her think she can get away with anything however._

"Anyway", Zaerini hurriedly added, pulling her hand a little nervously through her red hair, "how can you be so sure you can trust me? I could easily sell you out."

"A Hero like yourself? I hardly think so. Your reputation has proceeded you, my dear." 

"Well, how do I know I can trust you?"

The assassin shrugged. "You don't", he said firmly. "It's entirely up to you. But remember, I knew about your plans and I could have killed you already. I didn't have to tell you anything if all I wanted was your head. If I want somebody dead, I kill them, that I can assure you. I don't waste my time by chatting extensively with them first." Dekaras was pretty confident that his plan would work. What he said made a certain twisted sense, and the information he had volunteered should hopefully be enough to close the deal. And the beauty of it was that it was all true. It was the things he hadn't mentioned that could have caused problems, but there was no great risk of that. He was a little surprised at the immense relief evident on Zaerini's face though.

"At last!" the half-elf exclaimed. "Finally a sensible killer!" Then she blushed a little. "Um…never mind. Just remembering a few annoying people, that's all. Sorry."

"Nothing to apologize for. So, have you decided yet?"

"Yes. I agree."

"Excellent. I will need to arrange a few minor details before we meet again." The assassin produced a map and indicated a certain spot. "I will await you here, in this part of the area known as Peldvale, one hour after twilight every day. Try to avoid other bandits though. The forest is heavily patrolled, and they won't be expecting company. Be as discreet as possible." He shook the girl's hand and then did the same with Edwin, noticing that the wizard looked as relieved as if he had narrowly avoided certain death. _I'd really like to know what is the matter with him._

Zaerini nodded. "We'll see you later then", she said. Then she gave him a mischievous smile. "And just so you know, at least Softpaws seems to trust you for now. She's very particular too, she knows about these things. And she says to thank you for the nice backrub. Actually, 'nice' wasn't the word she used, but I wouldn't want to shock you with an exact quote."

The cat…the familiar, for that she must be, turned her head to give the assassin a satisfied look, her eyes glowing like green lanterns. "She's welcome", Dekaras said dryly. "And I assure you, I don't shock easily." _Clever girl. I should have realized that was no ordinary cat. But **she** should not have told me so in her eagerness to score a point. Now she's lost that advantage. Well, at least the cat can't read the thoughts of others but her mage._ "One more thing before you leave", he said. "That little impersonation you did earlier…entertaining as it was, I would really prefer if it were never made part of a public performance." He produced a throwing dagger with a lightning-quick movement and then started flipping it absentmindedly into the air, catching it and throwing it again without really looking at it. "I trust we understand each other?"

Zaerini opened her mouth to say something and then Edwin caught hold of her arm and hissed something that sounded very much like 'Don't push it!'. "Yes", the half-elf said, her golden eyes glittering with a mixture of annoyance and amusement, much similar to what the assassin himself was feeling. "Yes, I think we do."


	28. Introductions

**In The Cards 28 - Introductions**

_Wouldn't it be nice if things were simple? Black and white. Good and evil. Right and wrong. Just pick a rule and stick to it, no matter what, expecting people to fit into the molds you define for them. Nice and easy. Safe. And dangerous._

_Excerpt from 'Ruminations Of A Master Bard'_

For a bandit-infested forest Peldvale was actually a surprisingly pretty and peaceful place, Zaerini decided. Birds sang in the tall trees, swooping and diving through the flickering patches of light and shadow in the air. An uncountable number of small lakes were everywhere, glittering like diamonds in the afternoon sun. The half-elf smiled as she saw Imoen wade into a large patch of pink and sweet-smelling flowers, stirring up a cloud of yellow butterflies in the process. A few of them even settled in her hair like living flower-petals. 

"You know, Rini", the young thief exclaimed, "this was a great idea. This place is beautiful. Want some flowers?" She grinned and held out a small bouquet towards her friend. 

"Pink isn't exactly my color, Immy", the bard responded with a warm smile of her own. "You keep them. And you're right, it's really beautiful." She was pleased to see her friend so happy. There had been far too few pretty places in their lives lately. 

"Apart from the small fact of the bandits no doubt lying in wait to ambush us even as we speak", Jaheira said. The druid hadn't exactly approved of the current plans and not even the calm of the forest was enough to get her into a more peaceful mood. "Oh, I am sorry", she said, green eyes flashing. "Your bandit friend promised not to do any such thing, and of course we all know the wisdom of trusting in complete strangers, particularly dangerous ones."

"Jaheira, **you** were a stranger to me once", Rini said, trying to bite down on her irritation. "A potentially dangerous one, I might add. If not for the fact of you being Gorion's friend I probably never would have trusted you enough for you to become mine. And for the record, I don't trust him yet. I'm sure he has his own agenda, but who doesn't? As long as he's willing to help I'm willing to let him."

"I a-agree", Khalid said unexpectedly. "Any a-ally is valuable, and should not b-be rejected."

"Khalid, he is a bandit. As Harpers we should…"

"As Harpers we should d-do what we c-can to h-help those who need us. The b-b-bandits are a danger, and this p-person has offered to h-help us against them. I w-will reserve judgement until I have actually m-m-met the man." 

Jaheira sighed. Golden-brown hair glittered in a stray ray of sunlight as she shook her head. "Very well", she said. "I do not like it, but I will hold back. Just please do not trust him blindly. Promise me that, child." 

Zaerini nodded and gave the druid a small grin. "I promise", she said. "Anyway, I get the feeling he'd be rather disappointed in me if I did." She turned to Edwin to draw the wizard into the conversation. "Say, Eddie, what do you think?"

Edwin didn't answer at first. The wizard had seemed very preoccupied the entire day, as if he had a lot on his mind, and he had been unusually quiet. "What?" he asked, almost tripping over a fallen log until he caught himself. "What did you say?"

"I said, what do you think about Adahn? Think we can trust him?"

Edwin laughed a little morosely to himself. "Trust him? (Oh, the delicious irony of it all.) I'd say you can, up to a certain point. He certainly did seem to like you well enough. (Not that that is likely to help us much.)"

"Think so?"

"You're still alive, aren't you? Even after pulling that imitation stunt. I'll have you know my heart almost stopped at that point. I thought you were about to die." 

"You're being no fun at all", Rini complained. Then she grinned and leaned closer to whisper into the wizard's ear. "I don't plan to die anytime soon, not if I can avoid it. And I think our new acquaintance has more of a sense of humor than you do." She used the bandit's voice once again, pitching it so low that only Edwin could hear. It was remarkably well suited for that sort of thing, she thought. 

Edwin's reaction to this little joke was spectacular to say the least. He leapt a foot into the air with a small yelp and when he came down again his face was white with anger. "Don't ever do that to me again", he hissed. "I really mean that. Not ever, or I'll kill you myself."

"All right", Rini said, surprised at this sudden vehemence. "I was only kidding you know. No need to be so prickly about it."

"It wasn't funny. (And there is all the need in the world, though you wouldn't know that.)"

Rini would have questioned the wizard more about this strange fit of temper, but at that moment the conversation was interrupted by a strange voice. "Help me! If you don't help me, they'll kill me." It was a woman's voice, low and melodious. Zaerini turned to see who had spoken, and then she had to make an effort of will in order not to gape. The woman who came running towards the adventurers as fast as her legs could carry her was had the build and features of an elf, with a proud and beautiful face that spoke of spirit and determination. Her hair was snowy white, her skin as dark as night, marking her as a Drow, and though she was clearly fleeing for her life she had the look of one used to commanding those around her. Fleeing she certainly was though. A Flaming Fist soldier was chasing after her, brandishing his sword as he ran and screaming curses and vile epithets. He was still some distance behind, but he was starting to gain on the woman who looked pretty much exhausted. 

"Over here!" Rini yelled. "We'll help you." The woman was a Drow, and probably dangerous. That didn't mean she deserved this treatment. _After all_ , the half-elf thought, _I'm pretty dangerous myself._

The strange woman came up to them, breathing so hard that she was hardly able to speak. "My name is Viconia", she said. "I....I'm not from around here, thank you so much for helping."

The soldier was almost upon the party by now. "Step aside travelers", he cried out. "I am a member of the Flaming Fist. The woman you are harboring is wanted for murder of the foulest sort. She is a dark elf; it should be obvious that she is evil."

_Oh, it should, should it?_ Rini thought. "How very comfortable it must be to live in a world where good and evil are as obvious as the color of another person's skin", she said. "I envy you, really I do. It must be a rare occurrence for you to suffer the pain of actually thinking for yourself."

"He lies", Viconia spat. "I have done nothing wrong." 

"Rini, we can't let him do this", Imoen whispered. "She can't help where she was born, can she?"

Zaerini nodded, feeling the heat rise and simmer in her blood. Hotter. Hotter. A fire burning in her veins, roaring in her heart and mind. Her vision was narrowing until the only thing she could see was the soldier in front of her, with his shiny armor and plumed helmet, with his absolute conviction of being on the side of justice and goodness, and the edges of her vision were flecked with red. Like fire. Like blood. The soldier took a step backwards and she guessed that the light in her eyes had flared up as it always did when the rage was approaching. "And do you have any other evidence for her 'foul evil' than who her parents were?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly. Not the tremble of fear. More like a volcano getting ready to erupt.

The soldier hesitated, but he wasn't wise enough to know when to stop. "No other evidence is necessary", he said. "Everybody knows that the Drow are born evil."

_Born evil_. The words rang through Rini's head and for a few seconds she was quite unable to speak. She had the dim impression that she had bared her teeth in a snarl though, and her fingers were clenching and unclenching like claws. The fire was a roaring inferno by now. 

"Yes, that is always a convenient excuse", Edwin remarked. "I am a bit curious as to how you know this, though. You must have met a large number of Drow babies to be able to be so sure of your conclusions. Did they perhaps treat you badly? Crawl after you and bite your ankles, while cackling evilly, that sort of thing?"

"One final question", Zaerini hissed. "On the basis of this 'evidence', which is apparently her black skin and fondness for darkness, assuming you were to catch her, what would you do with her?"

The Flaming Fist soldier responded automatically. Finally, something easy. "Why, that's simple", he said. "I'd just kill her and…AAAAARRRRRGH!" The bard's spell hit him full in the face, blasting him with a ray of burning flames that scorched and blistered his skin. His scream trailed off into a gasping moan as the strong smell of burning flesh filled the air. The spell in itself wasn't enough to kill him, but the blade that buried itself in his neck definitely was. "Sorry", Zaerini said and pulled her sword out. "Wrong answer." 

Viconia had an appreciative look on her face as she watched the smoldering corpse lying in a thick patch of lovely blue flowers. "I thank you, stranger", she said. "Perhaps not all surface females are as weak as I once thought."

"We are not", Jaheira said. "You would do well to remember that lest you have cause to regret it. And I wonder what a Drow is doing so far from home. Perhaps you can answer that question for us?"

"I wasn't addressing you, _elg'caress_ ", Viconia said, giving Jaheira a contemptuous look with her unnerving red eyes. "You would do well to hold your tongue in the presence of your betters, lest I have cause to remove it." Then she turned to Zaerini again. "You have no reason to trust me", she said, "but I ask you to all the same. I am an outcast from my people, and I no longer receive my powers from the spider queen of the Underdark. The goddess Shar grants me wisdom now, and she is a surface divinity. If you allow me to join with you, I will be pleased to fight at your side."

"No!" Jaheira shouted, her face a mask of anger. "Zaerini, it would be unwise in the extreme to do this. Saving her life is one thing, I admit that it would have been unjust to slay her but taking her into your confidence is quite different. You cannot trust her."

"Jaheira…what did I say about trust and allies before?" Rini asked, feeling quite exasperated. "Let's see what happens, all right? I'm prepared to give her a chance, even if you're not." She nodded to the Drow. "Let me explain a little of what we are about", she said. "No details, just the general outline. Then, you will be welcome to join us if you still want to, though I won't blame you if you don't."

"I'll go where you wish", Viconia said and pulled the hood of her cloak higher. "As long as you keep me from this accursed sun. I fail to see why surface dwellers are so foolish as to want to run around in the sunlight when there is darkness and cool shadows to be found at night."

"Don't you worry about that", Rini said with a small grin. "We have an appointment to keep after sunset, and I have the feeling we'll be taking full advantage of the night ahead. You should at least have something in common with our final group member, or so I think."

-*-

"So then I kicked him in the head until he was dead!" The young bandit laughed at his own comment, a laugh that came out as something of a nasal whinny. Then he and his two friends turned to see Zaerini and her friends, and their amused grins turned into scowls. "Get them!" cried the leader, a blond young man with hard blue eyes and a broad gap between his front teeth. Rini sighed to herself. The group had almost arrived at the spot where they were supposed to meet up with Adahn and she'd hoped that the wait would be a quiet one. It was twilight now, and the shadows were starting to get longer, so she'd thought she might actually get a short rest before the meeting. No such luck, apparently. 

_It's bandit country, kitten_ , Softpaws said as she bit one of the bandits on the ankle and darted away before he could kick out at her. _You have to expect bandits._

_I guess. Doesn't mean I have to like it though._

Khalid and Jaheira charged one of the bandits, drawing him into close combat to keep him from using his bow against the rest of the party. Meanwhile Edwin launched an Acid Arrow at the second one, and Rini and Imoen followed up with some real ones that sent the man reeling. Viconia chanted something behind them in a low voice, and suddenly the third bandit froze into place, held immobile like a statue. The Drow calmly proceeded to beat his head in with her mace. It wasn't long before the other two fell as well. 

"Well?" Jaheira asked, her mouth twisting as if she tasted something bitter. "Are you not going to proceed?"

"Proceed?" Zaerini asked. "With what?"

"With honoring your promise. The promise you made to Officer Vai. Procuring the scalps of bandits, remember?"

"Oh", Rini said, staring at the dead bandits. “That promise." Somehow the idea of scalping somebody had been much more tolerable than the reality of it. It wasn't as if the scalps were going to be lying ready for her on the ground, all neat and clean. She'd have to actually take a knife and… "I don't think I can do it."

"You do not think you can keep your given word? I thought Gorion taught you better than that. And they are only bandits, they surely deserved death."

"Gorion never taught me how to scalp people! And bandits or not, they'll still bleed." _Damn_ , the bard thought to herself. _She's still upset about me letting Viconia come along. She's trying to push me into this to prove some sort of point. Or to test me. Really, I thought we were through with that sort of thing._

"Jaheira, just quit it", Imoen said, her voice uncharacteristically fierce. "It's disgusting. Leave Rini alone, all right?"

"This is getting boring", Viconia stated. "Are we going to stand around here for long?"

Khalid was holding onto Jaheira, trying to get her to calm down, but the druid wouldn't stand for it. "We will do so for as long as it takes for her to make up her mind about this. I need to see…need to know…"

_I knew it! It's just some sort of twisted little mindgame. She still doesn't trust me, not completely. If I make decisions she doesn't agree with she has to interpret that the worst possible way. Now she's going to make me out to be either an oathbreaker or a bloodthirsty bounty hunter, I just know it._

"What game are you playing, druid?" Edwin asked. "Just what is it you are trying to prove? That she is not your tame pet to always do your bidding? (Or perhaps the druid is simply starting to gain a bald spot and wants to cover it up with a bandit wig.)"

"Interesting question", said a smooth voice directly behind Edwin. Adahn stepped out from behind the trees, seemingly materializing out of the wizard's shadow. He took in the three dead bandits as well as the adventurers and then nodded politely to them. "Good evening", he said. "My, my, you really have been busy, haven't you? Expanding from heroism and into bounty hunting? Not that the differences are necessarily all that great. It is surprising how many heroes are prepared to cheerfully kill for a reward. Though I am sure the people they kill all feel honored to know that their slayer was somebody virtuous. Makes all the difference to the dead, that sort of thing."

"You!" Jaheira growled. "You set this up, did you not? Perhaps we should ask you to handle the bodies!"

The bandit watched the druid with some interest, apparently oblivious to her ferocious scowl. "Is she one of yours?" he asked Zaerini. The bard nodded. "Pity. No, I did not 'set this up'. If I had, I would not have picked three inexperienced boys to ambush you. And as for the bodies…do you always start a conversation with a stranger by asking him to mutilate a corpse for you? Must get you lots of friends. But no, I must decline. It is just one of those code of honor things that heroes ought to understand. You kill it - you deal with it."

"Yes", Rini said, nodding. "I agree with that." She was furious with Jaheira, and right now she didn't much care what the druid thought of her and provoking her felt like an excellent idea. _Might as well go all the way with this. She'll condemn me anyway, won't she?_ She drew her dagger and walked over to the first of the dead bandits without looking at any of her friends. Then she sat down next to the body and gripped its hair tightly. The task was more difficult than she'd imagined, but she managed. Somehow, she managed. _I'm peeling an apple_ , she thought, trying to keep from crying or laughing hysterically. _Just…peeling an apple_. Once it was all over, she rose and walked towards Jaheira, feeling a certain grim satisfaction at seeing the druid take a step backwards as she met her eyes. "Here", Zaerini said, thrusting the three bloody objects into the druid's hands. "I did as you asked. Mission accomplished. I hope you're happy. But I'm damn well not going to carry them." 

Jaheira simply stared at her gifts and didn't answer.

_And will they all hate me now, I wonder?_

_You know better, kitten_ , Softpaws said, and the cat gave Jaheira a glare to match the druid's worst. _Just hold your head high and look at them. A cat hunts. A cat kills. The druid has been trying to forget that you have teeth and claws. It is past time she was reminded. Now open your eyes and look._

The half-elf did as her familiar bid her, looking from one of her friends to the next. Khalid was looking from her to Jaheira, looking as if he feared they might come to blows. But when he met her eyes, he didn't look angry or revolted, simply worried for her. Imoen's face was sad but when she noticed her friend looking at her, she managed a little smile and mimed 'That's telling her, sister'. Rini sighed. She hadn't known until then how much she feared Imoen's rejection. Viconia was watching her calmly with those strange red eyes of her, watching her with something that seemed like approval. _She's probably seen worse than this in the Underdark_. Edwin looked…surprised. Not bothered or disgusted, but surprised, as if he'd seen something that he hadn't quite been expecting. And he kept sneaking glances at Adahn, as if he were trying to gauge the bandit's reaction. Adahn himself was also watching her intently. His face didn't give much away, but there was an almost imperceptible hint of understanding in those black eyes. Possibly…even compassion?

"Did you know their names?" Rini asked the bandit.

"Yes", Adahn said, nodding. "Yes, I did."

"Once we have the time, I want you tell them to me."

"As you wish", the bandit said, and for once he sounded completely sincere. "But first, perhaps you might introduce me to the rest of your friends?"

"Yes", Rini said, grateful for this chance to switch the subject. "Yes, of course." She cleared her throat. "Well, you already met me and my familiar, Softpaws." The black cat purred softly and gave the bandit an appreciative look. _See if you can get him to pet me again, kitten. Rrrrooorrr! I say we keep this one._ "Ah…and Edwin too, of course", the bard managed, stumbling over her words a little as she tried to block out the cat's further comments, dreading the thought of repeating them out loud by accident. "Our resident wizard."

"Ah, yes", Adahn said, looking a little amused. "And a competent one, I'm sure. A pleasure to make your further acquaintance. I've always found magic a fascinating subject, so I'm sure we'll have much to discuss." 

"Er…likewise", Edwin muttered. "Yes. Certainly. (I'm not sure how long I can take this. My hair will be gray tomorrow, I'm sure. Assuming we all live that long.)"

"And this is Viconia", Zaerini went on. "Our newest group member." Viconia flicked her white hair out of her face and patted her mace lightly against her free hand. 

"Shadow-walker", the Drow said, her voice neutral. "I suppose your skills may prove useful. After all, _Lil alurl velve zhah lil velkyn uss._ The best knife is the unseen one."

"So it is", the bandit agreed, inclining his head slightly. "I imagine you will be of use yourself, priestess. Not merely because of your skills either. The reputation of the Drow is likely to impress Tazok and make our task easier."

Imoen was practically jumping up and down with impatience. "My turn!" she said, pulling at Rini's arm. "My turn!" She gave the bandit a blinding smile that made him look just a little bit worried. "Hi Blackie!" the pink-haired thief beamed. "Boy, is it nice to see you again, I really missed you. Did you miss me? I bet you did. Of course you did."

_They've met?_ Rini thought, feeling incredulous. _Oh no, now what is she doing?_

Imoen had crooked her arm through that of the bandit, a possessive look on her face. "Blackie is the best", she said, batting her eyelashes at the other rogue whose demeanor by now was that of a wolf with its paw caught in a trap. Rini thought he looked like he seriously contemplated gnawing his own arm off in order to escape. "Adahn, I mean. He saved my life you know. And he's taught me lots. He's just the sweetest guy once you get to know him better. We have a special connection, you know, one made by fate. Don't we?"

"I…", Adahn said, a distinctly hunted expression on his sharp-featured face. Rini could hear Viconia chuckle quietly next to her. Edwin's jaw looked like it was about to hit the ground at any second and his eyes were as wide as teacups. As for herself, she couldn't help feeling sorry for the man. Immy tended to be very persistent when she had a crush on somebody.

"Don't we?" Imoen asked again with her sweetest smile. 

The bandit hesitated before answering, and when he did it sounded like every word was being pulled from between his lips by force. "I…suppose so", he said, gritting his teeth. "Yes. Fate. Of some sort." As Imoen threw herself at him with a delighted squeal, doing her best to crush his ribs, Adahn favored the rest of the adventurers with an icy and very meaningful glare that clearly communicated that comments would not be welcome. Rini noticed that he didn't try to pry the girl off by force though, nor make any disparaging remark. 

"And this is Khalid", Zaerini hurried on with the introductions, hoping to defuse the situation. "And Jaheira."

"H-hello", Khalid said timidly. Jaheira sniffed disdainfully. "J-jaheira, please!" The half-elven warrior shrugged apologetically at the bandit. "P-pardon my wife. She has a b-bit of a temper."

"Really?" Adahn said, arching an eyebrow at the druid and speaking in a calm voice that further served to inflame her, completely ignoring her furious scowl. "Would you know, I never would have noticed that. Actually, I've seen worse."

Jaheira looked ready to chew rocks at this inverted insult. Zaerini didn't feel the least bit sorry for her. "And now that we all know each other", the bard said, "I suggest we move on to business. The bandits are waiting." 

-*-

Imoen was so excited that she could hardly stand still. The reentry into her life of the rogue she had fixed her attention on made her feel all giddy, like her blood was fizzing and bubbling. She was currently staring at him with a rapt expression on her face as he explained something to the rest of the group, thinking that he looked even better than she recalled. And it wasn't as if she hadn't done a lot of recalling before she went to bed at night, along with a lot of fantasizing that featured the two of them in all sorts of interesting situations of an adult nature. 

"As I said before", Adahn was saying, oblivious to the plans made by the pink-haired girl, "my position among the bandits requires me to do some recruiting as well as training. Getting you into the camp shouldn't be too difficult - except for one thing." 

"What's that?" Zaerini asked.

"Your…how shall I put this…fame. It may be that I'm not the only one able to recognize you as the Heroes of Nashkel. I think we need to change your appearance just a little bit in order to ensure your safety."

"A disguise?" the bard said, with an excited gleam in her golden eyes. "I like the sound of that. What did you have in mind?" Imoen wasn't surprised at her enthusiasm. Rini had always loved disguises, dressing-up and acting. A large number of their childhood games had centered around pretending to be such different things as wild dragons, or wizards, or pirates. Imoen was quite fond of it herself, but her friend's talent for getting into a part surpassed her own. 

"Nothing too fancy", Adahn said, looking rather pleased with the half-elf's eagerness. "For you, I think we need to mask that red hair of yours more than anything else. It is attractive, but it is also highly recognizable." He produced a small bottle out of a hidden pocket and handed it to the bard. "This should take care of that. A very useful potion. Three drops on your scalp and you'll be a blonde for the next twelve hours."

"It will wear off, won't it?" Edwin asked, sounding worried. "I mean…not that it matters to me of course…but…"

"Of course it will", the bandit snapped. "I just said so, didn't I? Besides, I made it myself, so I ought to know. It will wear off, and it will cause no harm."

"Right", Zaerini said, still with that entranced gleam in her eyes. "Let's see how it works." She carefully poured three drops onto the top of her head. After a few seconds, the strands of hair closest to the spot where she had applied the potion started lightening. The blonde color spread rapidly like frost covering a tree in winter. In a minute, the bard's hair had turned a bright silver blonde that made an interesting contrast with her golden eyes. "Wow", she said, openly admiring. "That's a great potion. Now let's see…I should make up a part to go along with this." Her face settled into a sort of sulky pout, and when she next spoke her voice held an odd combination of naive seductiveness and bloodlust. "Hi everybody", she said, thrusting her chest out as she spoke. "My name is Bimby, and I love bloodshed, embroidery, reading romance novels and bloodshed. Oh, and bloodshed. If I win the 'Miss Faerun' competition I'm gonna use the title to promote world peace." She stared at her sword as if she couldn't quite remember what it was for. "And I'll do it with this little pointy guy", she giggled. "Dead people are so peaceful, aren't they?" She grinned widely and her voice returned to normal. "Think I'll pass?"

Adahn smiled a crooked smile. "I should think so", he said approvingly. "Yes, that sounds like the sort of woman that would appeal to many of these bandits." He shook his head. "Pathetic, really."

"Should I go blonde too?" Imoen asked. "I will, if **you** want me to." For some reason, the bandit looked a little taken aback at this.

"Ah…that wouldn't be a good idea", he said. "Your hair is dyed already, isn't it? There could be unfortunate side-effects. No, I think you had better just keep your hood up." He scrutinized the rest of the adventurers carefully, his hands on his back and his head cocked slightly to one side as he paced back and forth in front of them. "Most of the rest of you should be able to pass without notice as well. With one notable exception. I am, of course, referring to the wizard."

"What?" Edwin said, looking a bit startled. "Me?"

"Yes. You. There are other Red Wizards travelling the Realms, certainly, but not so many in this area that you will not stand out. Fortunately, I have provided a way of getting around that." Adahn threw Edwin a folded piece of cloth. It turned out to be a mage robe, a black one, plainly cut.

"You expect me to wear this?" Edwin protested, looking outraged. "I'm a Red Wizard, I don't want to pretend to be some…some hedge wizard."

Adahn fixed him with a dark glare that made the wizard take an involuntary step back, looking rather pale. "I **expect** you to do what you're told without sabotaging my efforts. I also expect you to do what you have to do in order to stay alive without whining about it like a spoilt child. Now go and get changed!"

The commanding words made Edwin jerk a little. He still looked a bit mutinous, but he disappeared into the trees without further protest, taking the black robe with him. "Wow…", Zaerini said thoughtfully. "Wish I could do that…"

Once Edwin had returned the party set out towards the bandit camp. The walk wasn't a particularly long one, which was fortunate since it was starting to get really dark. On a couple of occasions Imoen noticed that Adahn stopped to signal some unseen watcher before moving on. No doubt sentries were posted here and there. And then she could see light ahead and they passed into the camp proper. 

The camp was large, a maze of tents and cooking-fires. Bandits were everywhere. Walking past, hanging about, sitting down to eat, taking care of their equipment. And not just human bandits either. Imoen stared as she saw a pair of large hobgoblins hurry past, growling at the adventurers to get out of the way. And then she totally forgot about them as she saw the creature who was approaching. 

It was an ogre. The largest ogre Imoen had seen so far and dressed in heavy armor and a horned helmet. Cruel eyes glared out from beneath its rim, and heavy yellow tusks distorted the ogre's speech. "More new recruits?" the beast snarled. "I don't like the looks of them." He bared his teeth in a hideous grimace. "Tell me why I shouldn't bash all your skulls in and eat your brains."

"That would be most unreasonable of you, Tazok", Adahn said in a cool voice, his face betraying nothing. "I have proved my worth to you before. You may trust me to do what is best."

_So that's Tazok_ , Imoen thought. _Boy, he sure is ugly. Those warts are the biggest I've ever seen…And he's almost as rude as Abduh…_

Cunning glittered in the ogre's beady eyes. "Maybe", he said. "Best for you. But is that best for me? I'm trusted by **him** ; I'll be his right-hand man once I bash in the skull of that mage of his…"

"Yes, you seem very fond of that sort of thing", Adahn said. "I'm sure 'he' appreciates your unique…talents. But while you wait for your moment of glory, why don't you question my recruits? I'm sure you'll find them satisfactory."

_Oooh!_ Imoen thought. _He sure looks handsome when he's being sarcastic like that. Come to think of it he looks handsome all the time in a sort of dangerous way. Makes my knees go all wobbly when he looks at me… And he looks so good in leather_. She sighed dreamily. _Tight leather. Especially tight leather pants. He's got the hips for it. And the…_

Imoen was startled by a sharp elbow to her side. "Snap out of it", Zaerini whispered. "You're almost drooling, you know. I don't think you want either of them to notice that." Actually, both bandits were staring at the pink-haired girl by now. Tazok looked puzzled and annoyed. Adahn looked a little worried. Probably he was afraid she'd let their developing relationship get in the way of business. _But I won't_ , the girl thought. _I'll show him I can be terrifying just like him._

"Uh…right!" Imoen piped up. "We're villains all right. Yup. That's us. Hardened villains, bloodthirsty and evil." She scrunched up her face in what she hoped was a menacing sneer resembling that of her devoted love. "And you'd better not bother us or…or we'll be very cross with you." 

Tazok scratched his head. "She's a very strange bandit", he said. "Grinning like a flesh-eating chipmunk…"

"But she's very dangerous", Adahn hastily added. "Extremely so. Ah…impossible to escape." Imoen gave him a bright smile and he paled a little. _That is so romantic! He's practically swooning with love! Just like in 'Black Knight's Secret' where Kanin the Fallen Paladin encounters his lost love Rosaminda after ten years of exile…He even has piercing and mysterious eyes, just like Kanin. And a lithe and muscular body. Yummy…_

"Let's move on", Adahn said, steadfastly not looking at Imoen's frenetic and rather unsuccessful attempts to create the impression of a 'heaving bosom'. "She's dangerous. Trust me on this." Tazok seemed to accept this. He inspected Khalid, Jaheira, Viconia and Edwin in turn, finding them acceptable. Apparently, he thought Jaheira had just the right killer instinct and vicious attitude. The druid didn't seem to know exactly how to react to this. Tazok approved of Viconia especially, saying that a little Drow attitude might be just what the bandits needed. 

"What they really need is a bath", Viconia said. "These _rivvin_ stink even more than usual. But I suppose I could use them to run errands and such. That they should be able to manage, if given some proper training." She grinned and swung her mace a little from side to side. "I'm sure I could prod them into action." 

"Me too", Zaerini agreed, still speaking in that giggly voice of her 'Bimby' persona. "Oh, it's going to be so nice with all these naughty boys around. Naughty boys make such nice toys…" She smiled sweetly and tossed her blonde hair back, admiring her own reflection in the shiny surface of her sword. "Except they'd better not be naughty to me, or they might just get broken… Sometimes I play a little rough…" She giggled again. "Are we gonna go kill something soon? I'm getting bored, I wanna see some pretty blood. Pretty, pretty blood. It brings out my eyes, don't you guys agree?" She smiled sweetly at her companions. "Anyway, who should I kill first? I'm really good at it, my Daddy always says so." 

"Hrrrgh", Tazok said. "Good. Yes. Tazok wants **you**." He turned to Adahn. "Make sure she doesn't break anything she's not supposed to. I take a patrol and leave for mine tonight! Keep pressure on trade routes and there be extra gold for all when we are done! I leave soon." He paused. "You take the time to check out the other new recruits as well."

"Other new recruits?" Adahn said, not sounding very pleased.

"Yes. Teven brought them in an hour ago." The ogre snorted. "The halfling will do, I suppose. But the mage is crazy." He looked at Zaerini again. "Though maybe not as bad as some. And then there's the zombie."

"Zombie?!" Imoen squeaked. "What zombie?"

"Big ugly thing", Tazok said, oblivious to the irony of his statement as he dug around with a meaty finger inside his enourmous left nostril and ate the result of this excavation. "Stupid brute, but strong and mean, that Abduh. Yes, very strong and mean." He turned and walked off, leaving a group of unpleasantly surprised adventurers behind.


	29. Return Of The Braindead

**In The Cards 29 - Return Of The Braindead**

_Considering how many monsters me and my friends have killed by now and how good we are at killing in general, it's really strange that we seem unable to permanently rid ourselves of that one annoying zombie. Sometimes it feels as if some cruel deity keeps bringing him back on purpose in order to torment us. Or does that sound too paranoid? Oh no. It's not paranoia if they really are out to get you._

_Excerpt from 'Ruminations Of A Master Bard'_

"Abduh", Zaerini said in a flat voice. "Oh, this is just great. What is it about that guy anyway? You'd think there'd be a limit on how many times somebody can come back from the dead." 

"Yeah", Imoen agreed with a grimace. Then her eyes lit up. "Hey, it's no problem! Adahn can kill him, he's the one that did it before, after all!"

"I did?" the bandit said, sounding a bit surprised. "When would this have been, pray tell?"

"You know. Back in Nashkel. That big, mean bully who wanted to beat me up, but you killed him for me." Imoen's eyes were glowing with admiration. "That was ever so sweet of you…"

Adahn sighed. "Oh, that one", he said. "Yes, I remember. Had I known that anybody would be foolish enough to want to reanimate him I would have made certain to burn the corpse or at least decapitate it. I really don't like leaving a job incomplete."

"I'm not sure that would have helped", Rini said. "Abduh's a bit like one of those villains in a bard's serial horror story. You know, like 'Duke Darkness' or 'The Bloat'. They always get crushed, burnt, drowned or chopped to pieces at the end, but they always come back in the next part to savage a new group of young and scantily clad females who're hiding out in a spooky old house or an abandoned log cabin." 

"Ah", the bandit said. "This would be the sort of people who when they learn that they're shut inside the haunted mansion with a rabid killer decide to 'split up so the search will go quicker'? And when they hear suspicious noises in the dark basement, they call out to ask if 'somebody is there'. And let us not forget their equally annoying habit of climbing slippery roofs wearing thin shoes with spiky heels." He sounded rather insulted. "I happen to know about climbing roofs, and even I couldn't pull that off."

"Anyway", Rini said, "since you've apparently killed Abduh before - and I'd love to hear that story later - could you perhaps do it again?"

"I could", Adahn said with a shrug. "But not if he's out in the open, or we'd attract unwanted attention. I'd say our best bet is avoiding him if we can." He made a gesture towards the center of the camp. "The command tent is that way", he said. "You can't miss it, it's the biggest one in the vicinity. Tazok may have left some of his underlings inside, but you should be able to handle them without too many problems."

"What do you mean 'you'?" Edwin asked. "Aren't you coming with us?"

"No. I have made certain other preparations. Think about it. What would be the likely reaction of all these bandits if they hear the sounds of a pitched battle coming from the command tent?"

"T-they'd all f-f-fall upon us", Khalid said, looking rather pale. 

"Exactly. But fortunately for you I've made plans for a few diversions." A satisfied smirk spread across the bandit's face. "A little strategically placed chaos here and there and the bandits will be kept quite busy. It's a bit like chess, actually. You need to weaken your opponent's defenses before you can attack his king." 

"All right", Rini agreed. "The rest of you come with me, then." 

"Not me", Imoen said, shaking her head. "I'm going with Adahn." 

"You're most certainly not", the bandit protested. "I work alone." 

"Oh, pleeeeease!" Imoen put everything she had into her pleading, and her eyes seemed to double in size like those of a begging puppy. "I'll be good! And I bet there's so much I could learn from you!" She fluttered her eyelashes as she said the last, making Rini wonder just what it was her friend wanted to learn. 

"I suggest you let her come", the bard advised. "She'll never stop nagging otherwise." She felt sort of sorry for the bandit, but all the same she felt she had to help her best friend out in her quest for love, even if she did suspect that Imoen was looking in the wrong place. 

Adahn looked as if he were about to refuse, but then he apparently decided otherwise. "Very well", he said. "She may come, as long as she behaves herself. The rest of you should head for the command tent."

"How will we know when the time to attack has come?" Jaheira asked.

"Trust me. You'll know." He slipped off into the darkness with Imoen close at his heels. 

"D-do you think they'll b-be all right?" Khalid asked. "I'm feeling a l-little worried…"

"Actually", Edwin said, and pulled his black robe closer, "if I were you, I'd start worrying about the bandits instead." 

Meanwhile, deeper into the bandit camp, a strange conversation was taking place. The strange thing about it was that only one of the three speakers was sane, only two had functioning tongues and only two were alive. 

"Oh, this is so marvelous!" giggled Xzar. The insane wizard had a bright smile on his grotesquely tattooed face, and he cheerfully patted his smaller companion on the head. "Villainy, brigands and vicious roughnecks everywhere! My toes are tingling beautifully at the sight of all this congealed evil. Yes Monty, I do believe we've found our true element at last." 

"Urrrrgh", Abduh agreed. At least Montaron thought that the zombie agreed. It was a bit hard to tell since so much of his tongue had rotted off by now, and of course he hadn't been much of a conversationalist to begin with. 

"Keep it down, wizard", the halfling snarled, making sure that his sword rested nice and easy in its scabbard. "We don't want to attract unnecessary attention." 

"Urrrgh, urrrgh."

"I wasn't talking to you! You're really hopeless, you know. If we're talking congealed, your brain is the first thing that springs to mind. This mess we're in is all your fault."

"Aw, don't be so hard on him, Monty", Xzar admonished the halfling thief. "We were trying to find the bandits after all. He was only trying to help." The wizard scratched the zombie beneath its gray chin. "He's such a good boy, aren't you Abduh?"

"Urrrgh! Urrrgh!" 

Montaron rested his head in his hands. _It's not fair_ , he thought. _Why me? I could have been teamed up with anybody._ "Help", he spat, his voice heavy with sarcasm. "Oh, sure. By rushing up to the first group of Black Talons we came across and demanding to be taken to their leader. Or at least I think that's what he was saying. We're lucky they signed us up to entertain them rather than kill us outright. They'll probably still kill us if they don't like our jokes." _A court jester_ , Montaron thought. _I was supposed to become a legend within the Zhentarim. A rogue such as the world had never seen before, a skilled dealer of death. And I'm teamed up with an insane wizard with a rabbit fetish and his pet zombie._

"Don't you worry, Monty", Xzar said, his mouth twisting into a terrible manic smile. "I'm an excellent storyteller." His eyes became a little unfocused. "In the terrible depths of the sea, Great Chptrryzgha lies snoring… His tentacles will rear up and DEVOUR THE WORLD, TEARING OUT THE SOULS OF…"

"URRRGH!"

"No, no, NO! Not that kind of story. I was thinking of jokes."

"Oh. Well, how about the one about the lady hobgoblin and the wandering paladin?"

Montaron looked nervously about him. A group of three large hobgoblins were just passing close by, giving the thief, the wizard and the zombie suspicious and hostile looks. "Perhaps not that one", he said. "Let's move a little further into camp, there are far too many of those things here for my liking." As they walked on Montaron kept complaining, a sour look on his round face. "I really don't know why we have to drag this…this sorry lump around", he grouched, glaring at Abduh. "It's not as if he's anybody important. And he stinks. And his cooking is awful."

"URRRGH!" Montaron suddenly found himself dangling from a large gray fist that gripped his throat tightly. A pair of dim eyes stared into his own, burning with terrible, dull anger. 

"Oh look", Xzar said in a reproachful voice. "Now you've gone and hurt his feelings. And he really made an effort with those rabbits yesterday." His eyes rolled back in his head. "The…the RABBITS! They're watching, always watching. Oh, you think they're all cute and innocent, with their fluffy fur and shiny little eyes and pink twitchy noses, but that's what they want you to think. But I know. Oh yes, I know. I've seen their true faces, yes I have." He started twitching violently, attracting amused as well as alarmed glances from the surrounding bandits. 

"Xzar…", Montaron choked, "I…* choke* really could use some *choke * help here…"

"Urrrgh, urrrgh, URRRGH!"

"They just sit and watch you, but I know what they really say", Xzar raved. "They have plans, I tell you, yes they have. Ryilläh! Lyohg-slobber! The strange geometry of their pointy ears holds hidden messages, too hideous for mortal minds to comprehend!"

"Yes, but *choke * , I can't *choke * breathe…"

"Urrrgh. *hee, hee, hee *" 

"Eldritch shapes, cloaked in fluffy white fur, the Old Ones are always present…it's no coincidence that they breed so quickly, you know!" Xzar suddenly seemed to come back to reality, or at least as much as he ever did. "Abduh? Bad boy! Let him go." 

"Urrrgh", the zombie said, looking very sullen. Montaron dropped to the ground, still gasping for air and feeling his abused throat. He thought there were going to be permanent marks left by those thick gray fingers. _I don't think it's possible_ , he thought morosely, _that any thief ever suffered as much for his craft as I have._

"Now tell him you like his cooking", Xzar ordered. "You've hurt his feelings, you know."

"Fine", Montaron snarled. "His cooking…is passable." _At least it passes my bowels which is all that can be said for it._

"Urrrgh!" 

"No! What are you doing now, stupid zombie!" The halfling thief suddenly found himself swung about in the air and then tightly hugged by the pleased zombie. 

"Isn't that sweet?" Xzar trilled. "He wants to be your friend again. Abduh, listen to your Master. It's time to kiss and make up."

_No, no, no, NO!_ Montaron's tortured mind was screaming as he saw a pair of fat and slobbering gray lips approach his own. _This can't be happening to m…_

Smack. 

"See?" Xzar said, sounding extremely pleased. "All of us good friends again, forever and ever." 

"Urrrgh!" 

"Urrrgh…", Montaron groaned, trying his best not to vomit or faint. 

Xzar gave his companion a very puzzled look. "You're sounding very peculiar, Monty", he said. Then he giggled. "I hope you're not going crazy on me. I can't abide crazy people, you know that." 

There were two cooking fires ahead, each holding a large cauldron filled with steaming soup. Imoen thought it smelled pretty bad herself. Maybe that had something to do with having noticed the state of the hands of the bandits doing the cooking. That was one thing she had learned. A rogue needed to be able to see. Not just see with the eyes, but with the mind. To be able to see what was really there, and what only seemed to be. She was getting better at it, but she knew that she still had a lot to learn. 

"These are the two main fires", Adahn murmured quietly. "There are other cooking fires tended by smaller groups of bandits, but these particular cooks supply most of the camp. That makes them our first target." He showed Imoen two small bottles, each filled with a clear liquid. "We want this to go in there", he said, nodding first at the bottles and then at the soup-cauldrons. "Do you want to handle one of them?"

Imoen swallowed hard and stared at the innocent-looking bottles. "Is it…is it poison?" she asked. "Only, I've never poisoned anybody, and I'm not sure I can, even bandits." 

"It's not poison", Adahn said in a neutral voice. "At least not exactly. The poisons I do carry are too valuable to be wasted on this sort of large-scale thing."

"So it won't kill anybody?"

"No. Not directly, but it will incapacitate them if it works the way it is supposed to. I won't lie to you to pretty things up though. Incapacitating them means that your friends will kill them more easily than otherwise, should an open battle become necessary. Think you can live with that?"

Imoen thought about this for a moment. It wasn't nice. It wasn't pleasant. _But it is the lives of my friends at stake. Of my sister. It needs doing. And if I agree that it needs doing, I have to be prepared to do it myself_. "Yes", she said, her young face determined. "Yes, I can."

"As long as you're sure", the bandit said, not unkindly. "Otherwise I can always do it myself. Like I said, I won't push you into anything you're not ready for." 

"No. No, I'm sure. I want to help. I need to help. Really, I do."

"Good", Adahn said, a brief flicker of approval crossing his sharp-featured face. "Come then. I will take the left cauldron, you the right. We go in quietly, casually, and remember to move your feet the way I have showed you and you should do all right. Ten drops should do the trick, it's very strong." He seemed to melt into the shadows and disappeared from sight. Imoen knew he was still there, but try as she might, she couldn't spot him. Then she braced herself and slowly headed towards the right cauldron, as discreetly as she possibly could. There was no bandit in the immediate vicinity at the moment. Perfect timing. 

Closer. Closer. Imoen knew that she'd gotten better at her sneaking. _Quiet as a shadow_ , she told herself. _Innocent. Invisible_. Stealth wasn't only about physical skill, it helped to develop a certain mindset, to become one with the darkness. Then she was suddenly at the cauldron, the heavy smell of meat and overly boiled vegetables filling her nostrils. Quickly she started to unplug the bottle, slightly hunched down by the cauldron so as not to attract attention. The stupid plug wouldn't come out though. _Oh, nuts_ , Imoen thought to herself, feeling nervous sweat trickle down her back. _This is just plain silly. It has to work. Who ever heard of a poisoner who got stuck opening the bottle? Well, not that I'm actually trying to kill anybody, exactly, but still…_ Imoen pulled. And pulled. And pulled. And… *Plopp *

_Ooops…_ Imoen thought as the entire contents of the bottle accidentally wound up in the cauldron. I hope it's still going to work…

"Well?" Adahn asked as the two rogues reassembled some distance away from the cauldrons, behind an out-of-the-way tent. "How did it go? You certainly took your time."

"You saw me?" Imoen squeaked, her heart in her mouth. 

"Of course I did. But as long as nobody else did, that hardly matters. Did you apply the potion as specified?" 

"Oh. Oh, sure. No problem. No problem whatsoever."

"You're quite sure?"

"Oh yes. Yes, yes. I'm getting really good at this sneaking stuff", Imoen rambled on. "I…er…I wanna be just as good as you at it one day. Were you always this good? I bet you were."

The bandit's black eyes narrowed dangerously, and his voice had a sudden edge to it when next he spoke. "Show me the bottle", he said. 

"Well, actually, the thing is…"

"Show me the bottle. Now." 

Imoen swallowed hard and held the bottle out, blushing rather heavily. Adahn took it and turned it over in his hand, without making any immediate comment. "I see", he said. "A bit of youthful enthusiasm. I suppose I shouldn't be too surprised at this." 

"It…it was an accident."

"I don't doubt it. And accidents happen to the best of us. However, not **telling** me about it wasn't an accident, and that could well have cost us precious time. They say there is no honor among thieves, but on a common outing we need to be able to trust each other, at least temporarily. I really cannot spare the time to baby-sit you, you know. If you make a mistake, I need you to tell me."

Imoen felt tears rise in her eyes. She'd messed things up, and all she'd ever wanted was to help. Well, that and to make a favorable impression. Now he'd never think of her as anything but an irresponsible child. "I'm sorry", she said in a small and somewhat trembling voice. 

"It cannot be changed now", Adahn said, sounding much kinder at this sign of contrition. "Don't worry any more about it, just don't do it again. We must work with what we have. And speaking of which, we had better hurry up." 

"What was in those bottles anyway?" Imoen asked as they headed deeper into the bandit camp. 

The older rogue smiled a lupine smile. "That, girl, you will soon find out. I would not want to spoil the surprise. Suffice it to say that anybody who eats that soup is going to be kept quite busy. And now, on to our second stop of this little tour through Tazok's domain."

"This is the hobgoblin part of the camp", Adahn explained a few minutes later. "They generally keep apart from the humans, and while we're tolerated, we won't be exactly welcome. You might want to stick close by me."

"Sure!"

"Er…not quite that close. I still want to be able to move. And breathe. Let us not forget about breathing." 

Imoen reluctantly let go of her unwilling victim's waist. "But I thought we could pretend to be a couple of lovers taking a stroll, too busy with each other to know where we were going…"

"No. Definitely not." 

"Aw, please? It'll be fun, you'll see…"

"NO!" 

_Nuts, double-nuts and triple-nuts_ , Imoen thought. _Well, at least I got to snuggle him a little. I just have to be persistent, that's all._ "So what's next?" she asked.

"Next we're going to have a word with Ardenor Crush, leader of the Chill. That's him over there. The big hobgoblin by the tent. Just follow my lead." Adahn sauntered over towards the hobgoblin leader, and as he did so he shifted his way of walking, away from his normal smooth and flowing gait and into one that practically screamed arrogance. _Oh…oh my!_ Imoen thought. _That's…that's even hotter than usual. Just look at those legs and…and…oh my!_ Then she suddenly remembered that she was supposed to be following and hurried after the bandit, half running in a way that wasn't particularly assured or graceful. "Pay attention!" Adahn hissed. 

"But I was…"

"Well, whatever you were paying attention to it obviously wasn't the right thing. You don't want to step on a hobgoblin's toes by accident." They were almost upon Ardenor Crush by now. 

"You! Humans!" the hobgoblin snarled. "Your kind is not welcome here. What do you want in Chill part of camp?"

"Tazok sent me", Adahn said with a cold smirk that made Imoen deeply envious. "He is…curious…as to why you did not see fit to show up for the secret meeting yesterday. Curious, and worried about your loyalties. You are loyal, aren't you?"

"What?!" the hobgoblin roared. "Loyal? The Chill are all loyal to Tazok! What meeting is this? Speak, or I will have your head?"

"You did not know?" Adahn asked, and now he sounded genuinely surprised. "That…is strange. I heard Tazok give the orders. Tenhammer was there as well. I think he was meant to inform you. Well, I must have been mistaken…"

"Ha! No mistake! Talon leader is craven snake, tries to win position from Chill. He lies, he cheats, he speaks ill of me to great Tazok. But he will pay. Oh, he'll pay." 

"If you say so. Though I'm sure there must be a logical explanation."

"NO! You go to Tenhammer, tell him I challenge him. If he wants fight, I'll give him fight. One hour from now. I'll feast on his liver, chop his heart up for the crows, suck on his runny eyeballs and…"

"Yes, yes, yes", Adahn hastily interrupted. "We get the picture. We'll just go and tell him that, shall we?" Ardenor Crush growled in reply and started putting on his chainmail. 

Taugosz Tenhammer's reaction to the challenge of the Chill leader was entirely predictable. "What?!" he screamed. "That filthy, flea-ridden little… I'll peel his stinking hide off and use it for a doormat!" Imoen listened raptly. She was learning more swearwords than she'd ever known before in her entire life. 

"Yes, no doubt", Adahn said. "Best of luck." He motioned for Imoen to follow him and left the still fuming leader of the Black Talons behind. "They'll keep each other busy", he said. "And now for the third and final diversion." He led the way back towards the edge of the camp where there was a cave, sealed with a huge door covered with chains and heavy locks. "Go ahead", he said, pointing at the door. "Let's see how much you've learnt."

"Er…me?" Imoen asked. 

"Yes. You wanted to learn, didn't you? We still have some time to spare, and I need to see how much you know before I can teach you anything."

"Oh. All right then." Imoen took out her lockpicks and scrutinized the door. She reached for the first lock. 

"Aren't you forgetting something?" Adahn asked mildly, an amused glint in his black eyes.

Imoen hesitated. And then she saw the thin indentation next to the lock. "Right", she said. "Arrow trap. Just a sec." Once she had spotted the trap disarming it wasn't too difficult. 

"Very good", the older rogue encouraged her. "It seems you aren't entirely ineducable. Let us move on, shall we?" 

Imoen did, spotting three other traps. Then she paused. "I…can't see any other", she admitted. 

"You're quite sure?"

"Yes."

"Good. There aren't any."

"But I thought…"

Adahn raised an eyebrow. "A good thief needs to know not only when to start looking for traps, but when to finish", he said. "Now let's see how you do with the locks." 

Imoen did fairly well, only requiring instruction on the two most difficult locks. Once she was done Adahn motioned for her to stand back. "Be careful", he warned. "You don't want to get trampled."

Imoen looked at the door. She thought she could hear shuffling and snarling noises coming from inside. "Um…what is in there anyway?" she said. 

"Just a moment, and you'll see for yourself. Be ready to move quickly. They'll likely be upset after having been shut in so long." Adahn was watching the stars intently, his hand on the door. "Yes", he murmured to himself. "The potion ought to have affected enough people by now, the effect will show at any time. And Crush and Tenhammer ought to be properly on the warpath. Let us hope the others are ready to move." He pulled the heavy door open. The snarls grew louder. And then Imoen could see into the darkness of the cave, and there were eyes inside, maddened, furious glowing eyes, and teeth glittering in open moves. Growls, growls and barks and the penetrating smell of dog. 

"Move it!" Adahn ordered, and when Imoen didn't react quickly enough he threw himself at her, landing them both on the ground a safe distance away from the cave entrance, partially covering her body with his own. The gnolls were storming past them into the bandit camp, growling and snapping and baying for blood, charging Chill and Talon alike, but Imoen didn't care. Not in the position she was in. Not in the position he was in, more or less on top of her, and very close. 

_Who cares about Sarevok's plans?_ she thought, her mind giddy with delight. _I wanna stay right here!_

The bandit camp was much larger than Zaerini would have guessed. It was a veritable maze of tents of differing sizes, more or less divided into two groups. The hobgoblins belonging to the bandit group known as 'the Chill' had settled into one half of the camp, the human Black Talons into the other. From what she had been able to gather there was no love lost between the two groups, and only Tazok's iron will and harsh discipline had kept them from each other's throats so far. Tazok's, and possibly Sarevok's. She felt her stomach churn at the thought of possibly encountering her brother here. She didn't feel ready for that yet, much as she wanted to get it over with. She wondered if she'd ever be ready. And all this standing around waiting wasn't doing wonders for her temper either.

Tazok's command tent had been easy enough to find, seeing that it was much larger than any of the others. It was set upon a sort of wooden platform, and several barrels and chests were stacked outside. Loot, most probably, but not valuable enough to be brought inside. About a dozen bandits patrolled outside, keeping a close eye on it. There was one more thing that set this tent apart from the others, one that Rini really wished that Adahn had mentioned. Several skeletons had been fastened to the walls of the tent, human and hobgoblin both, facing outwards so that they greeted anybody who approached with the stare of their empty skulls. A particularly ugly skeleton that looked like it had once belonged to a half-orc hung above the door, snarling with its great tusks at anybody wanting to step through the door. 

_Well_ , the half-elf thought, _I suppose tastes differ. I wouldn't want them in my house though, if I had one. But I guess Tazok figures it keeps his subordinates on their toes. I hope it was Tazok and not Sarevok. I don't think I'd want to be related to anybody who pins skeletons up above their front door._

_It is very strange_ , Softpaws said, watching the skeletons. _Why keep the prey around if you don't want to eat it?_

Jaheira were watching the skeletons with disgust. "That is filthy", she declared. "An affront against all decency."

"Keep your voice down", Rini hissed. "Or did you want to alert every bandit around here?" She nodded at the bandits in the vicinity. None were close enough to hear, she thought, but she didn't want to take any risks. After all, the bandits had the advantage of much greater numbers. Besides, she was still angry with Jaheira over that incident with the scalps earlier. 

Jaheira glared back at the bard, but apparently, she was able to see the sense in the argument put forth. "Very well", she muttered. "But we should move soon. We are wasting our time."

"Why in such a rush, _elg'caress?_ " Viconia asked with a wicked smirk. "Afraid our leader will string you up among those other worthless carcasses if you keep challenging her? No, perhaps not. With the size of those hips you wouldn't be nearly ornamental enough. Perhaps you would do for the slave quarters though."

"You…you…you evil piece of…are you calling me FAT?"

"Also, annoyingly loud", Viconia added, carefully studying her well-groomed nails with a small and satisfied smile on her face. "If you're half _darthiir_ I can't help wondering what the other half was. Otyugh, perhaps. They make this really annoying trumpeting grunt when they're annoyed, just the same as you. On the other hand, they're generally better looking." 

Jaheria's eyes were almost bulging out of her skull by now and her face was dark red. Her mouth moved soundlessly as she tried to speak. 

"Now…n-now see here!" Khalid protested. "That was e-entirely uncalled for!"

"Actually", Zaerini said, "it wasn't. Jaheira, we will speak later about this tendency of yours to try to beat me into submission. Viconia, I thank you for your efforts on my behalf. This will be enough for the moment though. We are all in this together, I don't want us to come to blows."

Viconia bowed her head slightly. "As you wish, _abbil_ ", she said. "I owe you my life, and so I will do as you ask and not peel the hide off her body in bloody stripes, entertaining as it would be." 

Jaheira was still too angry to speak, but she nodded briefly. 

"I do agree that I would like to move in soon", Rini added. "But with all these bandits around the tent we really can't risk it, not before our two rogues finish whatever they're doing." She paused. "I sure would like to know what they're up to, though. Oh well. I guess we'll find out soon enough."

At precisely that moment a hideous roar sounded from some distance away, a cry of many voices, growling and barking, baying for blood like a large pack of angry dogs. It was met and answered by other cries, cries of surprise and fear, of anger, and finally of pain. The voices of Black Talons and Chill alike mixed in with the terrible barks, and the night rang with the sound of metal against metal and with the screams of the dying. 

Bandits everywhere were startled out of their regular activities, drawn towards the commotion. Not all of them got there though. Zaerini stared wide-eyed as more than one man suddenly groaned and paled as pain twisted his bowels into a tight knot. Panicky bandits were running around like decapitated hens, hands pressed either to their bellies or to their behinds, frantic to reach the latrines in time. Not all of them made it, and some of them didn't even bother to try, choosing instead to do what they had to do wherever they currently were. Now the night was also filled with an entirely different kind of pained groans, as well as with a hideous stench. The group of bandits guarding the command tent had dwindled away into nothing. 

"Well", Rini said, trying her best to sound unruffled, "I guess that would be our signal. These fellows certainly won't be fighting anybody for the next few hours. Let's go." 

_Ugh_ , Softpaws said. _That is so disgusting. Pick me up, I don't want to step in anything. Why can't you humans dig a hole like civilized animals?_

_Let's not discuss the respective elimination habits of our different species, shall we? Besides, these particular humans are hardly very civilized._

_Excuses, excuses._

"Yes", Edwin agreed. "We should go at once; I wouldn't be surprised if something else happens as well. (No, not surprised at all.)" The party headed towards the command tent and were almost to the steps when they were intercepted. 

"Ho there wanderers!"

For one dreadful, awful second Zaerini thought it was Elminster turned up again. Then she was relieved to see that this particular wizard was wearing green rather than red and lacked a pointy hat. _Thank the gods for small mercies_ , she thought. "Xzar", she said. "What do you want?"

"What do I want?" The mad mage giggled quietly. "I want…a nice pair of woolen socks…an Iron Maiden…a cute wittle wooden puppet…and ABSOLUTE DOMINION OVER THE WORLD AND ALL THE PITIFUL SOULS THAT CRAWL ON ITS SURFACE! AND MY OWN PUPPY!"

"Urrrgh!" Abduh agreed, giving the bard a hostile look. The zombie was looking a bit worse for wear, his skin was coming off in patches and he was mostly bald. On the other hand, there was an attractive patch of green mold growing on his left cheek. 

"Shut yer trap!" Montaron growled. The halfling thief glared angrily at Zaerini and her party. _Then again_ , the bard thought, _he always looks like that, so it's a bit difficult to tell the difference_. 

"We want in", Montaron stated, drawing his sword. "You people are on to something here, and you're not goin' in that tent without us. We mean to have our share, whether you like it or not. You'd better do as we say. We've a crazy zombie and we're not afraid to use it." 

"I can believe that", Edwin said with a disdainful sneer, "but I can't help wondering exactly what you use him for. I hope it is nothing too unsavory, but I wouldn't bet against it. Neither of you look particularly likely to have much success with the ladies. Perhaps you use him as a…substitute?"

"URRRGH!"

"You'll die for that wizard!"

"What? Monty, what did he mean? Was it something nasty? I don't like nasty, it makes me nervous, and when I get nervous, I get upset, and when I get upset I want to hurt something. Nasty boys should be punished. Mommy always said so." Xzar smiled brightly. "Mommy's dead now, but I'll always carry her with me." He paused. "At least part of her. I have this jar, see, and…"

"Urrrgh?"

"No, no, the rest of Mommy stays at home. She doesn't like to go out much, she's very quiet these days. And she doesn't like nasty boys." Xzar gave Zaerini a rather unsettling look. "Or naughty girls. No, Mommy doesn't like those at all. But I do." His leer widened. "You shouldn't have changed your hair. You looked prettier before. Much prettier." 

"Leave her hair out of this!" Edwin snarled, his face a mask of cold fury beneath the hood of his new black robe. "It's none of your business." 

"Couldn't agree more, Eddie", Rini said as she drew her sword. "Get out of the way, all three of you. I'll only tell you once." 

"No way in the Nine Hells", Montaron said and spat on the ground. 

"Mommy says no", Xzar giggled. 

"Urrrgh!" 

"Right", the half-elf said, feeling the quick flames of fury flicker through her soul. "Then we'll just…"

"Hold it, abbil", Viconia said. "Allow me." The drow priestess smiled briefly and made a curious twisting gesture with one slender dark-skinned hand. Her eyes glowed unsettlingly red in the darkness. Abduh stiffened, his eyes even more blank than before. Then he turned around, slowly jerking towards Xzar and Montaron, arms outstretched. "That's a good boy", Viconia purred. "Go get them, your Mistress commands it." 

"Urrrgh? URRRGH!" 

"Abduh?" Xzar said. "What are you doing?" Then she shrieked like a little girl as the zombie almost smashed his skull in with one swing of his massive arm. "Abduh! Stop it!"

"URRRGH! Urrrgh, urrrgh, urrrgh!"

"This is all your fault", Montaron screamed as he grabbed Xzar by the arm and made a run for it, dragging the protesting wizard after him as Abduh tried to stamp him into the ground like a bug. "You and your stupid zombie, you always land us in this sort of fine mess…" 

"But…"

"URRRGH!" 

"The rest of you go ahead", Viconia said as she drove the zombie after the pair of fleeing Zhentarim. "I'll just put these two pieces of _iblith_ away somewhere more suitable. Abduh! At them!" She disappeared after the still screaming men, chuckling quietly to herself. "I never imagined life on the surface could be this amusing…"

"Well", Zaerini said as she stepped up to the tent. "Shall we see if Tazok's home away from home is as ugly on the inside as on the outside?" She went inside, her friends close behind, and found herself eye to eye with a group of armed people who didn't look particularly happy to see her.


	30. Diverging Paths

**In The Cards 30 - Diverging Paths**

_It is always easy to be wise in hindsight. In retrospect it is easy to point out the things we ought to have noticed, the signs that were there all along and that could have spared us a great deal of pain if only we'd paid attention to them. Things always look so much more obvious when you're looking back at them than when they're all around you._

_Excerpt from 'Ruminations Of A Master Bard'_

"I don't care who you are, no one's to enter Tazok's tent, under penalty of death."

Zaerini looked at the man who had addressed her. A fairly large warrior with brown hair and what seemed to be a permanent sneer etched into his face. He was flanked by a short man in light green mage robes currently flecked with blood and a huge gnoll wielding a wicked halberd. Further into the tent she could see a hobgoblin warrior raising an impressive bow that glowed softly purple in the dim interior of the tent. She decided to try to bluff. Tossing her currently blonde hair back a little to make it bounce against her shoulders she pouted at the man, hoping to project 'Bimby's' expression of combined seductiveness, bloodthirst and naivete. 

"You silly little man", she said, increasing the power of the pout just a notch. "It was Tazok who sent us here. He wanted us to fetch all his letters and important papers, he'll need them when he leaves for the mine." She giggled. "I'll be going with him. Wasn't that nice of him? He promised me that if anybody was rude to me, I could have their head to play with. He's such a sweetie, isn't he?"

The warrior's eyes widened a little. Probably he was taken aback at hearing the ogre referred to as 'sweet'. "I don't know about this…"

"Aw, you're not going to be rude to me, are you? Are you? It would be awfully mean and unfair of you to be rude to little me." Rini smiled, trying to look as viciously innocent as possible. 

"No, no. Of course not. You go ahead. We'll just get back to interrogating the prisoner."

_Prisoner?_ Zaerini looked about, examining her surroundings more closely. The tent was rather dark and gloomy, but her eyesight was much sharper than that of a human. There was what could only be called a wooden throne against one wall, huge and crudely made, and with skulls mounted on the top. _Doesn't take a genius to figure out whose favorite chair that is. Guess Tazok's taste really is as atrocious indoors as outdoors_. A few simpler chairs and a couple of tables stood close by. On the walls hung several shields. Some were blood red, with a Black Talon. Others depicted a mailed fist in blue and white. That would be the coat of arms of the Chill, she guessed. _Funny. I never would have guessed hobgoblins would want a coat of arms. Wonder if they'll form knightly Orders next?_

The thought of a large group of hobgoblins in shining plate mail riding war horses was a rather mind-boggling one, and it was with some difficulty that Rini pulled her thoughts back in order. There was a large harp standing in one corner, amidst a few chests and expensive looking carpets. _I just can't believe Tazok plays the harp with those fingers of his. It has to be loot._

_Who knows?_ Softpaws said. _Maybe he wants to learn to sing in order to go courting._

_Excuse me?_

_Courting should always involve singing. When cats court each other, we sing all the time._

_Yes. I've…heard cats court before, back in Candlekeep. Very penetrating it was._

_Of course. You want the world to know you're available, after all. Speaking of which, you haven't been singing nearly enough lately. You should do so. You want the male to know you're in heat._

_Softy, I'm not in…in heat! And besides, I'm quite busy at the moment, if you didn't notice._

_Later then. But I'm not letting this slide, you know, kitten._

Zaerini shook her currently blonde head. Sometimes she just didn't understand how the mind of her familiar worked. And then she noticed the chair, half hidden behind the large harp. A man was tied to it, firmly tied with many ropes. Probably a thief, she guessed, judging from his clothes. All dark colors, mostly black and dark green. And he had the build of a typical rogue, lean and agile, not too heavy. Light brown hair hung into his face as his head drooped against his chest. There was blood on it, she could see that. Rather a lot of blood on the floor beneath him as well. She suddenly had a sick feeling that she knew where the spots on that mage's robe had come from. 

"Prisoner?" Zaerini asked, and it was only with a great effort that she managed to maintain her airhead persona. "Oh, how nasty! Who's he?" She tilted her head to one side and gave the bandit in front of her a wide-eyed look. "Are you gonna break his bones and grind them up for your bread?"

"Um…possibly." The man smiled, and actually winked at her. "Poor Ender Sai won't be good for much else once we're done with him."

Zaerini could hear Jaheira draw in breath sharply behind her. _Damn. Have to move now or she'll spoil everything. That woman really doesn't understand the concept of undercover work_. "I guess so", the half-smiled and flashed the bandit another brilliant smile. "Say, do you want me to give you a little tip on what to do with him? If you come closer, I'll whisper it in your ear."

The bandit grinned widely and approached, bending down to allow easy access. Rini cupped her hand gently around his left ear, leaning towards him. "Well", she purred, "what I thought you could do was TO ROT IN THE NINE HELLS YOU MISERABLE TORTURING CREEP!" She screamed the last at the top of her voice and directly into the man's ear, making him reel with pain, and then used the distraction to kick him in the groin. The sounds he made as he lay on the floor were pretty satisfactory, she thought as she ran him through, almost as an afterthought. 

Fire. Fire in her blood, dancing and burning brightly, roaring in her ears. So hot, so good. Her limbs moved easier, her thoughts quicker. She danced, and the flames danced with her. Magic. Sword. She alternated between the two as the opportunity allowed, as the dance moved her. Vaguely she was aware of Khalid and Jaheira engaging the large gnoll, of Edwin close by her side as he blasted the enemy mage with destructive magic. 

And then pain. Searing pain that pierced her side, and the fire faltered, burned slower. Pain choking her, bringing her to her knees. Hot blood splattering her face as Khalid took the hobgoblin's head off with a single blow before he could fire any more of his poisoned arrows. 

She was on the floor, being cradled close by somebody. Arms around her. Her head resting against somebody, the heartbeat of the other so much louder than her own. But she couldn't see properly. _Why isn't my darksight working?_ Voices were all around, blurred and incoherent for the most part. "Why are you dawdling, druid? Hurry up!" "Quiet. Let her work in peace." Muffled swearing. A hand gently smoothing her sweaty hair away from her brow. Quiet chanting, coming from far away. So far away. 

_Fight it, kitten! You can. You know that._ The piercing green eyes of her familiar burning into her mind, as the pleasant warmth of a spell spread through her body. And she could. Yes. She could. 

Eyes. Green eyes staring into her own out of a worried black face. "Softpaws?" Rini croaked out, surprised at how feeble her voice sounded. The cat was sitting on her chest, and now rose to nuzzle her cheek quietly. Khalid's face floated above her, looking extremely concerned. Jaheira's eyes, as green as those of the cat, and equally worried, though the druid's face was its normal impassive self. Wait a second. If they were all there in front of her…then who was it that was holding her so tightly? "E-Edwin?" the half-elf said and tried to turn her head around. The wizard's eyes reminded her of black caverns and bottomless pits. His face was tense with barely restrained emotion and a muscle in his left cheek was twitching slightly. "Are you all right?"

"Am I all right?" Edwin sounded totally incredulous at first, and then furious. "Am **I** all right? Are you totally out of your mind? What were you thinking of? You could have been killed! You almost were killed! Have you any idea how close you came to death? I could see you slipping away! I could feel it!"

"But…"

"No buts! You can't just charge into battle like that without paying attention to what you're doing, you know that! You should learn some restraint from me if you want to survive long enough to actually meet up with Sarevok again. (I think ten years just got added to my biological age. I'm probably going gray.)" Then he looked surprised and a little insulted as Jaheria grinned widely and Khalid chuckled quietly. "What? WHAT?! Will somebody please consent to tell me what's so very amusing?" He instantly fell silent as the bard twisted around on his lap to press a finger against his lips. 

"Please", Rini said with a faint smile. "You're not making my headache better, you know." She slid off the wizard, letting him assist her to her feet. "And…thanks. For caring. It…means a lot to me." Edwin made some sort of unintelligible sound at that and turned a strange shade of red. Zaerini nodded to Jaheira. "Thank you, Jaheira", she said. "If it hadn't been for you…"

The druid nodded, smiling back. "You are very welcome, child."

"Er…excuse me? I could use some help here if you don't mind. Please?" Ender Sai was coughing nervously as the adventurers turned towards him. His face was vaguely fox-like, Rini thought, pointed and clever. Currently it was decorated with a black eye and several minor scrapes, as well as a nasty wound above his temple, the one that had bled all over the floor. One of Jaheira's spells returned some of the color to his face and made him breathe easier, and Khalid cut his ropes at the same time. "Thank you", Ender Sai said fervently. "If not for you, I wouldn't have lasted much longer."

"You almost cost m…us our leader", Edwin said, giving the other man a dark glare. "You had better be worth it."

"Oh, I am, I assure you. I know things, you see. That is why they were beating me up, to find out how much I'd learned. These aren't your ordinary bandits. They're part Black Talons and part Chill, Chill being a demihuman band, mostly hobgoblins, and led by that creepy smart one, Ardenor Crush. There be others elsewhere, like that priest Mulahey sent to poison the mines of Nashkel. Set himself up as a kobold god returned and legions of the brainless barking fools believed him, ready to do his bidding 'til death do they part..."

"We k-know that a-already", Khalid said. "We k-killed him ourselves." For some reason the statement sounded much more chilling when spoken with his mild and friendly voice. Apparently, Sai thought the same. 

"Ah, well…that's…nice. But I know other stuff! Crush and Taugosz Khosann, leader of the Black Talons, both think he's getting orders from the Zhents and Tazok doesn't do much to discourage that particular line of thinking. But the Black Talons and Chill are bandit groups, see? They ply the trade routes, avoid the cities, and that's where they go wrong. I'm from the Gate and I can tell you dead as leather that the Zhentarim aren't behind this."

"We know that as well", Jaheira impatiently interrupted. "Have you nothing useful to say?"

"Er…” Ender Sai said, looking more nervous by the minute. "Well…A desire for silence isn't the only reason I wear soft-soled boots. I wear 'em so I can tell who's toes I'm treading on. I didn't mess with no Zhentarim. I picked my enemies and I messed with one group and one group only--the Iron Throne. And, right as rain, here I am as Tazok's personal prisoner. You do the math." He was speaking very quickly by now. The fact that Edwin was still glaring at him didn't seem to make him any calmer. 

"We know about the Throne's involvement", the wizard flatly stated. "They can keep you, for all I care. Or are you going to give us a reason not to let them? (She should just have let them kill him. I can't believe she risked her life over this little weasel. He's lucky she still lives, if she'd died, I would have cut his heart out and made him eat it raw.)"

Ender Sai was sweating heavily by now. "I…I know some more", he blurted out. "Tazok's been making regular visits to the Cloakwood so that's where I'd start if I were you. There are some documents in that chest that might be worth taking a look at, too... Now go step on some toes, alright? And you can tell them Ender Sai sent you." The rogue hurriedly darted past the adventurers and towards the door. Then he shrieked loudly as he unexpectedly found his way blocked. 

-*-

The bandit camp had deteriorated into utter chaos. Gnolls snapped and snarled, laying into human and hobgoblin bandits alike with cheerful abandon and large halberds, resorting to claws and teeth when ordinary weapons didn't satisfy their bloodlust. The howls and growls were deafening, as were the screams and moans of the dying and wounded. 

In the middle of the camp an especially violent battle was raging, as Ardenor Crush and Taugosz Tenhammer did their best to kill each other, both of them bleeding from many wounds. Currently the Black Talon leader seemed to have the upper hand. He was sitting on top of the hobgoblin, beating his head against the ground. Imoen wasn't sure that would be the end of it though. Hobgoblin skulls tended to be resilient, and she could see Crush trying to twist loose. 

Last, but not least, there was the fact that most of the bandits weren't really in a condition to fight in the first place. The laxative that had been slipped into the soup had seen to that. Bandits squatted everywhere, groaning with terrible pain, and the stench was horrible. Some of them had managed to make it to the latrine pits, but only some. Their delicate condition also left them vulnerable to the gnolls, who were only too happy to put the suffering men out of their misery. 

"Ah", Adahn said and nodded briefly, smiling to himself. "A beautiful sight." 

Imoen stared at the gnolls and their gruesome fighting tactics which entailed the ripping off of various body-parts, the bloody fight to the death between the Talon and Chill leaders and most of all at the naked posteriors of the still surviving bandits. "Er…."

"Figuratively, of course", the bandit hastily amended himself. "Not literally. But there is a certain beauty in seeing a plan fall neatly into place."

"Oh, right! I agree with that, I guess." _And speaking of beautiful, he sure looks good when he's smiling. All dashing and roguish. Of course, he looks cute anytime, but that smile just makes me all squishy inside. And we're all alone, and I was really clever and helpful before. Time to make a serious move._ Imoen gave the pitched battle and the ill bandits a dismissive look, trying her best to ignore the stench. She and Adahn were standing a little way into the forest, where they could observe and still remain unseen, and they had decided to wait a little while before crossing the camp to the command tent, in order to let the worst fighting die down. This was the perfect opportunity. _There's even a pretty moon! Perfect! The corpses I could do without, but on the other hand he'll know I'm brave and tough and generally perfect for him since they don't scare me! Here we go._

Imoen straightened her pink hair and cocked her head to one side, smiling sweetly at the man next to her. "Adahn?" she said. "I think this was a really clever plan. Really, really, really clever. I don't know how you could possibly come up with something like this. I don't think I ever could." She gave him an admiring look. 

"Thank you", the bandit said, shrugging slightly. "But you have to remember, I have had a lot of practice at this sort of thing, whereas you are only just starting your career. It is only natural that I should be more adept. You will learn, assuming you survive long enough to do so."

_He cares about me! WowwowwowwowWOW! All right, no panicking here, Immy. Calm, mature, collected. That's it_. "D'you think I can be a great thief then? Do you? Do you? You do, don't you? Oh, you're the best!"

Adahn looked a little stunned at this cheerful eruption and there was a hint of genuine concern in his black eyes as he watched Imoen who by now was bouncing up and down in front of him, making little happy noises. "Are you unwell?" he asked. 

_'Yes, my beloved, I am stricken with True Love, my heart fatally wounded. Your every word, your every glance only serves to open up the wound once more.' As Chellinelle the Sorceress said in 'Thief Of My Heart'. Or was it 'your every touch, your every kiss'? Yes, that was definitely it. And if it wasn't, it ought to be. Yes. That's it_. "Touch!" Imoen blurted out, speaking the first word that came to mind. 

"What?"

_Darn_. "Uh…I'm fine. Really. Just thinking that you have a…uh…very…very…uh…nice touch with intrigue." _And I'd like to do more than a little touching myself. Have to be subtle though_. "Think I can ever become that good?"

Adahn gave her an appraising look, his sharp face becoming intensely focused. "It is not impossible", he slowly said. "You have talent, I can see that much, even if you're inexperienced and dangerously impulsive. And I don't mean just nimble fingers or an agile body, you have a good head." He snorted quietly. "Admittedly one of a very shocking color, but still, a good head." He walked in a circle around the girl, and for a moment Imoen was reminded of some large and dangerous predator taking the measure of a smaller one. "Yes", Adahn finally said. "Clever as I said, though you certainly seem to try your best to hide it sometimes. And you are stronger than you think as well."

"I am?"

"Yes. You are. I can tell. You do what you have to, when you have to. You fight for what you believe in. What is that, if not strength?" His eyes narrowed and when next he spoke, he did it slowly, as if he were weighing every word with great care. "You…were always kept safe before, correct? Happy, secure. You never really had to use your strength. Now you do, and it frightens you, doesn't it?"

"No, I…"

"Oh, it does. And it should. But you don't really have much of a choice. Once you grow up you can't go back to being a child, much as you'd like to. That is the way of life. Still, I think you will manage. You are, as I said, stronger than you think. You want to remember that."

Imoen felt her heart singing, her blood rushing in her head. _Nobody…nobody ever thought I was strong before…I can't believe that he does…that is so…so…so…_ "Sweet!" Imoen squealed. "That is so sweet of you. You are so sweet."

The older rogue looked rather alarmed as Imoen beamed brightly at him, happy tears in her eyes. "Sweet?!" he said, sounding incredulous. "Hardly the word I'd use to describe myself. Hardly the word any sane person would use." 

"Well, I would." Imoen's blue eyes glittered with determination and her perky face was set with resolve. "And you are. You're much nicer than you think you are, or pretend you are. I can tell."

"I don't…"

"But I do. I think you try very hard to hide it, but a really nasty person would never care about helping me out…or…or making me feel better about myself. You can't fool me. You're nice. And sweet. Get used to it." Imoen suddenly realized that she'd been determinedly stepping forward as she spoke, until she had basically backed Adahn up against a tree. At this point she was close enough that she had to crane her head backwards to be able to see anything other than his…well…chest. While it was a very interesting and captivating view, she really felt she ought to estimate his reaction and decide whether she was utterly doomed or not. _This is not how it was supposed to go! I was supposed to be alluring and mysterious! Now he'll just think I'm a pushy brat!_

For a few seconds the bandit simply stared at her, looking very thoughtful. "Well", he finally said, arching an eyebrow. "This was certainly a…novel…experience. Please do me the courtesy of not repeating it in public. Ever. That 'sweet' thing could ruin my reputation. I'd have to take steps."

"What sort of steps?"

"Why, to kill you, of course." This was said with the utmost seriousness that made Imoen's eyes go as wide as teacups until she saw Adahn wink at her and give her a small grin. _Forget about 'sweet'. That man is hot! All right, here goes. Stare hypnotically. Make him want to kiss me. No, make him **need** to kiss me. Starestarestarestarestare…_

"Now what?" Adahn asked a little impatiently, waving his hand in front of Imoen's glassy eyes. "I didn't actually mean that, you know. No need to freeze up like that."

_Right, that didn't work. Plan B. Flutter eyelashes seductively. Flutterflutterflutterflutter…_

"Did you get something in your eye?" the bandit asked. "Or are you simply having a seizure?"

_Darn. How is it possible that a man so astute in all other matters can be so incredibly dense when it comes to recognizing his own True Love? What am I supposed to do, hit him over the head with a club and drag him off into the sunset? All right, Immy. Calm. Cool. Collected. You can do this, you know you can. Time to take out the heavy weaponry._

"I'm fine", Imoen said. "In fact, I'm better than fine. And d'you know what would make me feel even better than better than fine?"

"No?"

"Well, what I was thinking of…that is…if I…if you…" _Kissmekissmekissmekissme! Come on! Kiss me already! I'm practically pouting here! Gods, it'd be a crime not to put those lips of his to use. Or those divine hands. Or that delectable…_

At precisely that moment a screaming wizard with a tattooed face rushed past the two rogues, followed by a violently swearing halfling and a lumbering zombie. "Abduh, stop it!" the wizard shouted in a shrill voice. "Bad boy! Bad boy! Stop it right now or Master will spank you!" 

"Why don't you do that then?" the halfling snarled. "I'll tell you what. Because he'd RIP YOUR STUPID HEAD OFF! And worse, he'd do the same to me. What did you have to go and enhance his strength for?"

"I thought it would be useful for carrying our luggage…"

"URRRGH!"

"Carrying our luggage? WHAT luggage? We're mercenaries, not little old ladies touring the Realms!"

"Well, we could get some luggage one of these days. You never know. I could use it to carry interesting people in. Interesting dead people."

"URRRGH!"

"Oh, just shut up and run." 

There were a few seconds stunned silence after the odd trio had passed. "Well", Adahn said. "That was certainly very…unusual." 

"Yuck", Imoen said with a shudder. "Abduh looked even more repulsive than before."

The bandit gave a small sigh. "Tempting as it is to finish the job, he currently seems to be working on our behalf. Almost a shame. I hate leaving things unfinished." 

"You can have him later, Shadow-walker. Right now, he is mine." Viconia approached the two rogues, grinning widely. "And a very good and obedient boy he is too. Tell me, is there a good place around here where I can have him put those two cretins?" 

Imoen looked at Adahn. From the wicked look that had come into his eyes she guessed he was thinking the same as she was. "Actually, there is such a place", he said. "Not far from here."

"That way", Imoen added, pointing into the trees. "Just…er…follow your nose."

Viconia's red eyes lit up with amusement. "Very well", she said. "I shall see if your idea has merit. You may expect me back shortly." She disappeared into the trees, her white hair glowing in the moonlight. It was only a few minutes until she came back, and when she did, she was laughing quietly to herself.

"It went well, I take it?" Adahn asked politely.

"Oh yes. Very well. That…hole…"

"The latrine pit", Imoen added helpfully.

"Yes. A good idea, that one. Abduh chased them both into it, and now he's patrolling around it, making sure they don't get out. My control over him will wane eventually, but for now those two are stuck in a very uncomfortable place." Her smile widened. "And the halfling has to stand on the wizard's shoulders. Apparently, he can't swim. I do hope he isn't too heavy - the wizard doesn't look particularly strong." 

Imoen giggled wildly at the image this presented and noticed Adahn smiling as well. "How's it going for Rini and the others?" she asked. 

"I left just as they were about to enter the command tent", Viconia explained. "Those three imbeciles had placed themselves outside it. We should get back there."

"Yes", Adahn agreed. "We should. There is nothing else we can do here, and by now the fighting should have diminished enough that we can move about with relative ease without getting caught up in it."

_Darn_. Imoen thought. _Foiled again. Oh well. I'm sure I'll get another chance at him soon. It's True Love, after all. Nothing can stand in the way of True Love. Someday, somehow, he will be mine._

-*-

Ender Sai shrieked as he found his way out of the command tent blocked. A female Drow patted a heavy mace thoughtfully against the palm of her hand and gave him a measuring look as if she were trying to decide just how much of a bother it would be killing him. Next to her a bandit dressed all in black watched him with a sort of detached but focused interest and aimed a nasty-looking crossbow at him. That one definitely wouldn't think it would be a bother killing him. Finally, there was the girl. An innocent-looking girl with bright pink hair but judging from the company she kept she had to be extremely dangerous. Probably the most dangerous of them all. A tiefling, maybe, with that hair. She'd probably enjoy killing him in some horrible, extra-planar way.

"Going somewhere, _jaluk_?" the Drow asked, a small frown on her beautiful dark face.

"I think not", the man with the crossbow calmly stated. Ender Sai had always prided himself on his ruthlessness, but there was something about the way the stranger smiled at him that made his blood run cold and reminded him uncomfortably about fangs. "After all, he hasn't finished telling our companions what he knows, now has he? I'm sure he wouldn't want to disappoint them - or us - by leaving too soon." 

"Yeah!" the pink-haired girl cheerfully said. "I wanna hear it all!" She poked Ender Sai in the chest and the thief shied back with a small whimper, half expecting some terrible spell or weapon to rip him asunder. "Come on! You can tell us. That won't hurt, will it?"

"A-a-all right!" Ender Sai stammered. "Please don't hurt me! I'll talk! Tazok commands the bandits, but there's another one. I heard them speaking of him. His name is Sarevok, and he commands Tazok. He's high with the Iron Throne, that's all I know, except that they're all scared of him." He paused to draw breath. "You probably want to take a look at the Cloakwood mines first though. If you can disturb that operation, you'll really have managed to hurt the Throne, if that's what you want. Now please let me go!" As the newcomers stepped aside, he hurried past them, half expecting to die at any second. He didn't stop running until he reached Beregost, some hours later.

Zaerini was pleased to learn that the chest in the corner of the tent contained a few potions and spell scrolls, as well as a couple of highly interesting letters. 

_Tazok,  
I hope that everything moves along smoothly. I have written to give you instructions from our superiors. I have been told that a small band of mercenaries might cause the Iron Throne some trouble in the future. You are to ensure that they don't live to upset our operations. Obtain the services of the assassin Nimbul, he should serve you well, provided he doesn't let his penchant for bad poetry get the better of him._

_DAVAEORN_

_Tazok,  
I have noticed that your shipments of iron have slowed as of late. It is imperative that we receive another ton of ore. Step up your raids and get a shipment to our base in Cloakwood within the next week. We need to stockpile as much ore as possible before our ultimatum is given. Also, Sarevok wants to know what has happened with the band of mercenaries. Have they been killed? You had better ensure that they have been, as Sarevok will not take kindly to any other news._

_DAVAEORN_

"An ultimatum?" Rini said. "I wonder what it all means."

"It makes some sense", Jaheira pondered. "They choked off the iron coming out of the Nashkel Mine using Mulahey, and these bandits have been raiding every caravan in the vicinity. With these rumors of impending war with Amn it would undoubtedly serve the Iron Throne well to have a monopoly on the trade."

_But that can't be all there is to it_ , Zaerini thought to herself. _I've seen my brother. Whatever his plans are, they go far beyond acquiring wealth._

"Nimbul…", Imoen mused. "Which assassin do you guys think that was? There have been so many, I'm starting to get them all mixed up."

"I think", Edwin said, "that would have been the one in Nashkel. The one with that ridiculous 'I am Death come for thee' line. (The one that I personally disposed of, I might add, in a thoroughly professional and impressive manner.)"

Adahn smirked slightly. "Truly?" he asked. "Well, I am certain he deserved whatever you did to him for behaving like an opera character. You should probably consider yourselves lucky he didn't decide to grace you all with an aria. That actually might have proved fatal." He gave Zaerini a courtly bow. "And now I believe it is past time for me to bid you farewell, my lady. Our common goal has been accomplished, and I have things to attend to elsewhere. It has been most interesting making your acquaintance." 

"Where are you going?" Imoen asked, sounding rather dismayed. "Will I see…er…you will be back soon, won't you?"

The bandit gave a minute shrug. "I suppose there is no harm in telling you", he said. "There are some things I've been meaning to look into in Baldur's Gate. I only delayed this long because I wished the bandits out of the way first. If you come that way you may see me - or not, depending on many things."

"You won't consider staying?" Rini asked. "You're obviously good at what you do. We could use your help." Besides, she wanted to help her friend. Immy was looking really heartbroken. 

"My apologies", Adahn said. "I'm not looking for a new employer at this particular time. And I have always found it of crucial importance to keep focused on my current objective, and not let myself get sidetracked. That way lies disaster. I'm sure you all agree." His voice was perfectly neutral, and yet Zaerini couldn't quite shake the feeling that the words held some hidden meaning. Before she could ask another question, the man was already out the door however, having given the adventurers a final brief nod. When she looked outside, she could see no trace of him.

"That", the bard remarked, "is an extremely annoying habit."

"Yes", Edwin agreed. The wizard had silently come up behind her and was staring into the encroaching shadows just as she was. "Yes…it certainly is." He sounded troubled, but he said no more on the subject. 

The adventurers set out southwest for Beregost. Zaerini was silent for most of the journey, pondering the recent events. She'd already known about the Iron Throne's involvement, but this whole Cloakwood business put a new spin on things. Whatever Sarevok's ultimate plan was it was bound to cause him problems if she interfered with his mining operation. She never doubted for a second that it was his operation either. From what she had seen of her brother so far, he wasn't one to meekly take orders from others. Officially or not, he would be at the center of things. It probably would be a good idea to look further into this mining thing. If she could somehow weaken Sarevok's position with the Throne it would hopefully be a little easier dealing with him later. 

First, she'd need a good night's rest though. She was weary to the bone, and she could hardly keep her eyes open. And she'd need to have a little chat with Jaheira as well. That business with the scalps was still bothering her a great deal. She had thought that she had struck up a friendship with the druid, albeit a somewhat uneasy one. But if Jaheira still wouldn't trust her, then where did that leave them? In deep trouble, that's where. They needed to be able to function as a team, they couldn't afford not to be able to trust each other. 

Finally, the bard considered her recent ally. There was still something about Adahn that made her wonder. She couldn't help liking the man, dangerous as he undoubtedly was, but she also couldn't quite shake the feeling that she ought to recognize him from somewhere. It was pure nonsense of course, she knew she'd never met him before, but there was something so very familiar about him… He'd told her precious little about himself or his own plans. _Just about nothing at all_ , she realized with a wry twist of her mouth. He couldn't very well be affiliated with the Iron Throne or he wouldn't have been crossing them, but apart from that she couldn't even begin to guess his motives. She'd just have to wait and see if they ever met up again. _I just hope we won't find ourselves on opposing sides_ , she thought. _I really do like him, I'd hate having to kill him_. She grinned. _Besides, Immy would probably never forgive me._

Meanwhile, further north on the Coast Way, the subject of the bard's musings was also going over the events of the last few days. Dekaras was rather pleased with the way things had worked out at the bandit camp. It was good to be on the road and not to have to spend any more time with Taugosz Tenhammer and his like. They could hardly be called stimulating company. Still, they had acted just as he'd hoped they would, and now Sarevok and his mage, Winski, would find themselves one bandit camp short. It would be fascinating to see how they would react to that news. He strongly suspected that it would be a good idea for Winski to remove any fragile objects from Sarevok's immediate presence before letting him know. Such as the city of Baldur's Gate, for example. 

Smiling slightly to himself the assassin considered his next plan. As long as Edwin was still entangled with the bard it would be necessary to keep thwarting the efforts of her enemies, in order to keep the boy safe. It was probable that Zaerini would head for the Cloakwood now, and he could see the logic in that course of action. Personally, he intended to go directly to the top, though. Sarevok was the key, and the sooner he was neutralized, the better. But first it would be necessary to investigate the warrior a little further. _And to find out his weaknesses. There will be something. There always is. Elminster himself will have a vulnerable spot or two if you look hard enough._

His black eyes serious once more Dekaras turned his thoughts to the subject of Edwin. While in the presence of Zaerini and her companions he obviously hadn't been able to pay much attention to the boy, but still there was something worrying about him. He seemed…nervous. More so than he ought to have been. And there was something disturbingly familiar about the way he behaved, something that Dekaras felt he really ought to recognize but couldn't quite put his finger on. It was extremely annoying. He decided to have a good long talk with Edwin as soon as the opportunity presented itself. _By now he really ought to know that he can trust me to handle being undercover without making a mess of things. There's no reason for him to be such a bundle of nerves._

Finally, the assassin pondered the subject of Zaerini. The girl was dangerous, both because of her heritage and because of her quickness of thought. He had no intention of underestimating her. He also couldn't help liking her. She was certainly both intelligent and brave, and she seemed to have a sense of humor as well. It would be most interesting to witness her further development. _As long as Edwin manages to do what he's supposed to, of course. That girl is a rare one. I hope we won't find ourselves on opposing sides. I really do like her, it would be such a shame to have to kill her_. He smiled again. _Besides, little Imoen would likely be very upset with me._


	31. Apology And Alliance

**In The Cards 31 - Apology And Alliance**

_Forgiveness isn’t really all that complicated. If you care about somebody you can forgive them a lot of things, as long as they show themselves to be genuinely sorry. Doing that takes both strength and courage though._

_Excerpt from ‘Ruminations Of A Master Bard’_

Zaerini dreamed, and as she dreamed, she walked through the bandit camp once more. Such an imposing challenge that camp, hidden from all hostile eyes, guarded by desperate and dangerous men who were able to foil the Flaming Fist and all others who ad sought to stop them. But cunning had won the day. 

She walked through the camp, passed close by bandits and brigands, and they paid her no heed though she was close enough to touch them. She was invisible, a shadow, one with the darkness around her. She had to bite her lip in order not to laugh out loud and reveal herself. It felt good, so good. She was right there in their midst and they had no idea of it. 

Softpaws walked next to her, a smaller shadow by her side. _You have learned much, kitten_ , the cat spoke. _Walk the shadows, they are friends to our kind. And while sharp claws are good, they are worth little without a sharp head._

Zaerini was just about to answer, but at that moment she felt a powerful gust of wind, tousling her bright red curls, lifting her high above the camp and woods both. She soared in the high morning sun, feeling as free as a bird, swooping and diving. She laughed, for a moment as carefree as the child she had been not that long ago. It was so wonderful to be free. Free of care, free of worries. Free of obligations. 

And then, pain. Poisonous pain, searing her side. An arrow protruding from her side, and far below on the ground she spied the hobgoblin, his bow raised. She was falling, falling, and gasping with hideous pain as the poison raced through her body. 

_You must stop it, kitten_. The black cat was clinging to her shoulder, her voice as calm as if she hadn't noticed the fact that they were tumbling towards the hard ground at a very great speed.

_I can't!_

_Yes, you can. You know you can. You know yourself, mind and body. You know the way it ought to be. All you have to do is make it so. All cats know exactly what they are._

And she found that she did. She knew herself, body and soul. The exact color of her golden eyes, the shape of her nose, the way she moved, the sound of her laughter, the taste of her skin as it was kissed by sunlight, the way she would melt inside if anybody ever thought to touch her…just so. For an instant she knew it all and more, even the things she hadn't really experienced yet. And she knew all about her hopes and fears, her joys and sorrows, and more. Much, much more. It was all part of her, but the poison was not. Hardly thinking about it she got rid of it, cleansing herself of its taint. 

_See, kitten? I told you so. Now watch out. We're going down._

Rini's eyes opened wide and the knowledge of herself receded once more, hidden from her conscious mind again. The poison was gone, but she was still falling, and the ground was very close. She screamed as she hit it, fully expecting to die.

_If you die in a dream, do you ever wake up again? Or will you be found dead in your bed the next morning? Or an empty husk, devoid of your soul?_

And then she passed through the ground, not dying. Black it was, and she passed through earth and rock as easily as if they had been empty air. Eventually the rock around her illuminated and a cavern slowly took shape, a cavern that she somehow knew lay at the very core of the world. She was standing on solid ground once more, though she could see no more than a few steps ahead or behind in the dim light. 

_Have to go on. No other way_. Zaerini stumbled forward, lightly touching the wall so as not to get lost. And then she found herself face to face with…herself.

The statue in front of her resembled her to the smallest detail. Rini stared at it, utterly fascinated. She had seen herself in mirrors, of course, but somehow this image seemed almost alive. There was the untidy hair, looking as if a wind was playing within the curls. Her eyes, open and curious, with a hint of mischief. Her face, with its unique blend of human and elven features. She reached out to touch the statue and its cheek was smooth beneath her questing fingers, smooth and warm.

Then the voice spoke, at the same time inside her head and echoing all around her. 

SUCH PRIDE UNDESERVED, GREAT PREDATOR, WHEN YOUR WHOLE BEING IS BORROWED. CREDIT WHERE IT IS DUE, AND DUES WHERE PAYMENT IS DEMANDED.

A dagger of bone flew from the blackness and struck the statue, square. It cracked slightly, but the pain the bard felt was as though she were rent asunder.

YOU THINK YOU KNOW YOURSELF, DAUGHTER? Her sire's voice was mocking, laughing at her. YOU WERE MADE AS YOU ARE, AS MY TOOL. AND LIKE ALL TOOLS, YOU CAN ALSO BE BROKEN. 

The darkness rushed up to surround her as she felt the pain tear at her insides, and when she woke, she did it with a scream on her lips.

"Rini? Rini, please wake up!" Imoen's voice was frantic with worry. It seemed to come from far away, from so very far away… Zaerini sat up in bed, staring wildly at her surroundings, golden eyes still wide with the fear and pain of the dream. She was drenched with sweat, she could feel it, and yet she was shivering with cold. Her hand trembling, she pushed her once again flame-red hair out of her eyes. The blonde color had worn off at last, thank the gods for small mercies. Imoen was sitting on the bed next to her, her arm around her shoulders.

"Immy?" the half-elf said, her voice small and vulnerable as she would never have let it be had she been able to better control herself. "I…I had a dream."

Imoen's face was pale beneath her shock of pink hair. "I know", she said, hugging her best friend closer. "I…I woke up and I heard you screaming. And…and then I saw you trashing about, a-and moaning like you were about to die. For a second, I thought you were going to die. You sort of gasped, and…and I think you stopped breathing for a moment. It was one of those dreams, wasn't it?"

"Yes." The bard shivered violently again, and put her arm around her friend, taking comfort from her presence. _Warmth. And light, and…and openness and unconditional kindness. Oh, Immy. I wish…sometimes I wish I could be more like you_. "Yes, it…it was one of those dreams. My sire - he still wants me to serve him, I think. He…he called me a tool. And…and I'm afraid. Immy, I'm so afraid that he might make a tool out of me without me even knowing it. How do I know I'm not doing exactly what he wants me to do?"

Imoen's face was unusually stern and she gripped her friend's hand tightly. "No, you're not", she protested. "Don't you think I'd know? You're my best friend, practically my sister, and I love you! You're no tool." Her small hands tightened into fists. "That…that nasty old spook ought to just lie down and rot! Nobody wants him around anyway." She glared indignantly at the ceiling. "Hear that, old spook? Nobody hurts my sister and gets away with it. If you try, I'll…I'll…I'll do something really wicked and roguish and horrible to you, probably involving live ants." 

Zaerini felt her mouth quirk upwards involuntary at the mental image of the pink-haired thief coating Bhaal's ghostly form with honey and tying him up next to an anthill. "Oh, Immy", she said, laughing despite herself. "I love you too. Very, very much. Don't you ever change." 

"'Course not. What could possibly make me?"

The two girls embraced again for a minute or so, and then Imoen settled into the bed next to her friend.

"Move over", she said. 

"What are you doing?"

"I'm staying right here, that's what I'm doing. You need the company, so you don't have another nightmare, you know that." Imoen nestled close to her best friend, yawning loudly. "Rini? Want to tell me a story?"

"Um…I don't know if I can think of a story right now. I'm pretty tired. Tell you what though, I could sing us a song."

"Oh, good! Please do!"

Zaerini thought for a moment and cleared her throat before she started singing softly. 

_Wolfweres and wyverns and wicked old wizards,  
They can't harm us, not at all  
Lamias, leeches and man-eating lizards,  
May hunt us and hound us, but we'll never fall_

_I'm here for you, you're here for me  
Always together, always free  
Two as one  
And anything might be done_

_Beholders and basilisks, bearded old bugbears  
Want to eat us, but they'll choke  
Dragons and demons with really long nose-hairs  
We'll send them all running and then tell a joke_

_I'm here for you, you're here for me  
Always together, always free  
Two as one  
And anything might be done_

_Fear and frustration may frighten a stranger  
But a friend will see you home  
Boiling hot rage may well put you in danger  
With me right beside you, you won't be alone_

_I'm here for you, you're here for me  
Always together, always free  
Two as one  
And anything might be done_

The half-elf's voice trailed off as she finished the final stanza. She well remembered when she had first learnt that song. 

"That was really nice", Imoen said, smiling sleepily. "I liked it a lot. Did you make it up yourself?"

"No", Rini said, settling down in the bed close by her friend. "No…Gorion taught it to me." _I'm so sorry, Father. You were always there for me when I needed you, and when you needed me I could do nothing to help you._

"Oh. Good night then. Wake me if you need me."

"Good night, Immy. Sleep well. Immy?"

"Mmmm?"

"I'll always be there for you, you know, same as you've always been for me. I just wanted you to know that…what with Sarevok and everything. I'm not letting anybody hurt you if I can help it. You do know that, don't you?"

Imoen yawned again, half asleep by now. "Silly…", she sighed. "Of course I do…"

And Zaerini finally drifted off into sleep, the calm presence of her friend giving her the comfort she needed. On the floor, Softpaws watched and waited for the dawn to come, thinking on many things. The familiar was concerned. Her kitten was changing, she could feel it. Some of these dreams made the change come quicker. Part of the change would be good, she thought, but not all. The cat eventually jumped onto the bed, settling down in the crook of her kitten's arm. She could do nothing more at this moment. She might as well get some sleep. Purring softly the black cat closed her eyes, determined to make sure to enter the next unpleasant dream as well. Nothing would be allowed to harm her kitten. Nothing at all.

-*- 

Jaheira sat in the common room of the Jovial Juggler in Beregost, trying to outstare a bowl of porridge. So far, the porridge was winning, probably because it is so very difficult to make a bowl of porridge flinch. The druid sighed and poked the food unenthusiastically with her spoon. It wasn't that it tasted all that bad. She simply…didn't have much of an appetite this morning. 

She'd been to see Officer Vai the previous evening, before retiring. Zaerini had told her, in no uncertain terms, that since she had been the one to insist on scalping people, she ought to be the one to collect the payment. The Flaming Fist officer had been pleased at the news of the bandit camp's destruction, and had thanked the druid warmly, stating that if Jaheira and her friends were to travel to Baldur's Gate she would always be happy to help them in return. 

Jaheira had done her duty. The bandits were gone; her charge was safe for the moment. It was a beautiful day outside, with warm sunlight streaming in through the windows of the inn, making dust dance in the rays like pixies. The Cloakwood Forest waited. A real wilderness, much more so than the Wood of Sharp Teeth. It would be grand, she thought. And yet her heart was heavy this morning. 

_Gorion_ , she thought. _My old friend. You wanted me and Khalid to watch over the children, and I have tried. Why then does it all seem to go wrong for me? I thought I had got through to your daughter, and now…I have lost the balance._

The druid sighed again. She had probably blundered; she could see that now. By her own actions she had managed to alienate Zaerini more than before. Silvanus knew whose advice the child would choose to take now. _Why did I have to be so rash and provoke her like that? If she takes off with the Drow it will all be my fault._

There was a feather-light kiss at the nape of her neck, a warm hand at her shoulder. Jaheira turned to meet her husband's laughing dark eyes, managing a minute smile of her own. 

"G-good morning", Khalid said. 

Jaheira arched an eyebrow. "I do believe you said good morning once already. When you woke me up, in fact."

"B-but I like greeting you, J-jaheira." Khalid's smile widened. "And p-particularly in the way I d-did this morning."

The druid snorted and playfully punched her husband in the arm, whereupon he pretended to cower in fear. Her face immediately turned somber again though. 

"Oh no", Khalid said. "N-now what is wrong, my d-dearest?" 

"I fear I may have made a grievous error in my dealings with Zaerini. I would not be surprised if she hates me by now."

Khalid sat down next to his wife, and now his face was as serious as hers. "She d-doesn't hate you", he said, taking Jaheira's hand. "But she w-was very upset with you. I think she feels you d-don't trust her, and that you were trying to m-manipulate her."

"It…it may be that I did", Jaheira admitted, painful as it was to do so. "I meant it for the best, but I did not consider how it would come across. I do not know how I can make it right again."

Khalid shook his head. "Heart of my h-heart, you are usually m-more wise than this. Tell her what you have t-told me. Explain yourself, treat her as an a-adult. Then a-apologize." 

"Apologize?"

"Yes, J-Jaheira. Apologize. You know h-how. You've done it before." He smiled again. "At least o-once or twice that I c-can recall off the top of my h-head."

The druid's face set with familiar resolve. "Yes", she said. "You are right. I must go to Zaerini and speak with her."

"And a-apologize." 

"Oh, very well. And apologize." 

Jaheira took the steps two at a time, eager to get this unpleasant duty over with. She forcefully knocked on the door of the room that Zaerini shared with Imoen and then stepped inside. There was no sign of the bard, however. Imoen was sitting on her bed, writing something in her diary. 

"Where is Zaerini?" Jaheira asked.

"Oh, she just went to get a bath", Imoen explained, chewing on her pen. "Say, can you help me out? Do you happen to know a good rhyme for 'black'?"

"How about 'slack'?"

Imoen frowned deeply and twirled her pink hair around her finger. "No…no that doesn't fit at all." Her smile turned dreamy. "Not at all…"

"What are you doing anyway?" Jaheira asked and came over to look over Imoen's shoulder. Once she read what the girl was writing she felt her cheeks burn as hot as furnaces. "What…what is that supposed to be?"

"It's a love poem!" Imoen beamed. "Do you like it?"

"It…is certainly very ardent."

"That's a good thing, isn't it?"

"I…I suppose so." _I never would have thought it of her. I wonder just what her previous reading material has been. Something tells me Gorion would never have approved._

"Oh, good", Imoen said. "I talked with Viconia earlier and she gave me a few tips. She knows ever so much about these things."

_Now why does that not surprise me?_ "Child", Jaheira warned, "you may not want to take everything Viconia says literally. Our customs are not those of the Underdark after all. If you try to bully men into submission, they will only resent you."

"I wouldn't do that!" Imoen hugged the diary close to her chest and her eyes turned slightly unfocused. Jaheira wasn't sure she wanted to know exactly what scene the girl was picturing. "I just want to hold him, and kiss him, and love him and make him adore me and love me forever and ever! Like in the stories!"

_Child, you cannot **make** anybody love you like that_. Jaheira didn't say it out loud though. If they were lucky this senseless infatuation would ebb away soon. Besides, she had hurt one of the girls already. She would rather not hurt the other one if she could help it. 

It was at that moment that Zaerini entered the room, her bright red hair still damp from her bath, her familiar riding on her shoulder. The bard’s yellow eyes were rather cool as she saw Jaheira, and the cat looked equally sceptical. 

“Jaheira”, Zaerini said. “Good. We need to talk.”

“Yes”, the druid agreed. 

“Er, I’ll just go somewhere else, shall I?” Imoen asked. She closed her diary and stuck it beneath her arm, then headed for the door. “I’ll leave you guys alone to talk.” She grinned. “Besides, I need to talk some more with Viconia before she leaves.” She closed the door behind her, humming softly to herself. Jaheira recognized the tune as a rather popular and extremely soppy ballad. 

“The Drow is leaving?” Jaheira asked as soon as Imoen had left. 

The other half-elf nodded briefly. “Yes”, she said in a pointed voice. “Viconia is leaving. She wants some safe place to stay and a chance to be left in peace. Can’t say that I blame her. She did offer to come with us though.”

“You declined?”

“How could I deny her a chance to get what she wants?” Zaerini’s eyes flashed dangerously. “Anyway, if she stayed, you’d probably keep nagging us both about it.”

_Nagging?!_ Jaheira made an effort to stay calm. “I do not nag”, she stated. She did sound a bit more defensive than she had intended though. 

“Oh no?” There was a dangerous note to the bard’s voice by now, low and silky. It was almost a purr. “Which word would you prefer then? Bully? Prod? Manipulate?” The golden eyes narrowed, and Jaheira had to make a deliberate effort in order to keep her face neutral. She shouldn’t let a mere girl affect her like that. _Except she is not a mere girl, now is she?_

“I thought we were friends, Jaheria”, Zaerini said, and now she sounded hurt rather than angry. “I really did. Sure, we haven’t always got along perfectly, but I didn’t think you’d do a thing like that. It was really, really, really shitty. ” 

“I…”

“What did you expect me to do? Either I collect bandit scalps, and then I’m a ruthless, violent child of Bhaal. Or else I don’t, and then I’m an oath-breaker, a lying, treacherous child of Bhaal. I can’t win either way with you, can I? You’ve been against me from the start.”

“No!” Jaheira exclaimed, feeling horrified. “No…please, you must not believe that.” She paused. The child looked so hurt, so angry, so lost. The druid wanted nothing more than to embrace her, but she did not dare, at the moment. The risk of rejection was still too great. “I…I worry about you”, she said, making her voice as soft as she could. “I know what dangers you face, and the danger of your heritage is chief amongst them all. If you succumb to that taint, you will be as lost as Sarevok is. I…wanted you to consider your actions more carefully, to think before you act. That is why I acted as I did. To make you know your own heart better. If it felt as if I was betraying you – then I am truly sorry. I never meant that. I may have been harsher than I first intended. Working with a drow, and with that bandit…I was afraid you might come under a dark influence. I meant it for the best, but I should not have interfered the way I did.”

Zaerini just stared at her, her mouth slightly open. The child looked utterly flabbergasted. “Jaheira?” she said. “Are you…are you apologizing? You aren’t sick or something, are you?”

“Of course not!” the druid snapped, her contrition slipping for a second. “I do apologize from time to time you know. Just as soon as I know I have made a mistake.”

A lightning-quick grin flashed across the bard’s face, and her eyes sparkled with mischief. “Oh, is that so?” she asked. “Just as soon as you know you’ve made a mistake? And this would be how often? Once a decade or so?”

“Oh, hush child”, Jaheira snorted. Then she smiled. “At least every other year. Now, do you think you can find it in your heart to forgive me so that we may go on with our journey?” 

“I suppose so. Yes, I forgive you. But don’t you try that on me again, you understand me? If you do, I won’t forgive it again.”

“Yes, I understand perfectly.” Jaheira paused. The heavy weight had fallen from her heart and she was able to breathe much easier. “There…is one other thing that worries me”, she said. “Imoen, and this…this ludicrous infatuation of hers.”

“I don’t know that I’d call it ludicrous exactly”, Zaerini said. “He is handsome, and I rather like him. But you’re right in a way, I don’t think he’s even noticed that she’s fallen for him and I don’t think he ever will respond the way she hopes. I wouldn’t worry too much about it if I were you. I’m sure he’ll let her down gently if it ever comes to that, and we don’t even know if we’ll ever see him again. She may forget all about it soon.”

There was a tentative knock on the door at that moment, and then Imoen poked her head inside. “Guys?” she asked. “Can I come in now?” Her smile was, if possible, even more blissful than before. “Vicky had this interesting book with lovely pictures in it, and she gave me a few useful hints as well… Does either of you happen to know of a good rhyme for ‘thighs’?”

Zaerini was obviously fighting hard to look serious. “Um…how about ‘lies’?” she asked. “Or ‘dies’?”

“Oh yes, that would work, I think! Great! Ooooh, this will sweep him right off his feet! Rini, do you think you might be able to think up a melody for it once I’m done?”

The bard and the druid exchanged a very long look. “Want to bet on that forgetfulness?” Jaheira asked in a dry voice. Zaerini simply shook her head in response. 

The Cloakwood Forest was deep and lush. The ground lay mostly in shadow beneath the tall trees, but here and there some sunlight managed to trickle through the leaves high above, creating dappled and flickering flecks of light and shadow on the ground. It was quiet and peaceful, with only the odd birdcall or noisy squirrel to break the silence. 

"Is this not calming and restful?" Jaheira asked. "Surely, child, a forest like this one must appeal to you?"

"A little, I guess", Rini said. "But I'm really not a forest person, Jaheira, you know that. Elven blood or not." She paused. "Jaheira? Do you know any elves? I've always been curious about them, but I don't really know that much about them."

The druid thought for a second before she answered. "I will be happy to teach you what I know about the elven culture and language. However, you would be wise to remember that not all elves are alike, no more than all humans are."

"Oh, I know that. Still…I can't help wanting to meet some. The elven blood is part of me too, same as the human." And the divine, but let's not go into that at the moment. 

_Kitten?_ Softpaws asked. _This is very important to you, isn't it?_ The cat looked up at the bard, her eyes glittering like emeralds.

_Yes, it is. It's just…so many humans despise those of mixed blood. I've never felt that I was one of them. And when I was a child, I used to imagine that maybe elves were different. That…maybe with them I would be allowed to belong. A childish dream, I know, but I can't seem to let go of it._

_Dreams are important. But you already belong. You belong to me._

_Oh. Right. I'd forgotten about that part._

_Silly kitten. A cat doesn't wait for others to tell her where she belongs. She decides that herself. Still, I'm sure you will learn_. With a brief flick of her tail the cat slipped into the shadowy underbrush. A few moments later there was a tiny scream. _Oh, very nice_ , Softpaws said along the mental link. _Nice, juicy mouse. Would you like some?_

_Ah. No thanks, Softy. I'm quite full._

"It must be strange not to know your roots", Edwin remarked. The Red Wizard had rid himself of the black robe and once again proudly flaunted his signature color. "Ancestry is very important in Thay, and the Odesseirons are an old Family. I have more ancestors than I really know what to do with. You could have some of them I suppose. (I'm sure they're all moldy and decayed by now anyway, hardly very interesting company. Unless one were to reanimate them. Now there's a thought…)"

"Interesting suggestion", Rini said. "Were you offering to go back to Thay and dig up some of your ancestors for me, or to ask your parents to adopt me into the family?" She smiled to take the edge off her words. "Much as I like you, Eddie, I don't really think I want you to be my brother. Sarevok is all the brother I need. I'd rather have you as my friend." 

"Ah. Yes. Certainly. What I meant to say was that while family connections are certainly important and useful, they will only get you so far. Skill is what is really important if you want to not only survive, but to gain power. That, I know for certain. (And I most definitely don't want you to be my sister either.)" 

_Was that a compliment he just told me?_ Zaerini thought. _With Edwin, it's always difficult to tell for sure_. "I'm sure you're right", she said. "That's not exactly what I meant though. The elf part of me is a part I don't really know that well. I just want to know myself better, that's all. And I figure talking with an elf or two would be the best way to go about that." She smiled a little wanly. "Assuming I meet up with any that want to share their ways with a half-elf, of course."

"If they don't, then they don't deserve your attention in the first place", Edwin snarled, his face furious. "If they are imbeciles who cannot see past your mixed blood then they don't even deserve to have you spit in their ugly faces. (Fireballs would be too good for such vermin. Much too swift a death. An Acid Arrow directed at their most sensitive body parts might be entertaining though.)"

"Thank you", the bard said, with genuine affection in her voice. "That really means a lot to me, you know." For some strange reason, this simple statement caused the Red Wizard to trail off into incoherent mutterings. He did look rather pleased, however. 

As the companions passed deeper into the forest they suddenly came upon an open clearing. A small wooden cabin had been built there. It looked very neat and orderly, with a gravel path leading up to the door and flowers growing on both sides on it. A man was standing just outside the door, looking like he was waiting for somebody. He seemed to be middle-aged, with completely white hair and a broad face with an overly large and square chin. The leather armor he wore was beautiful and looked new, and his scarlet cloak was fastened with a large gold brooch in the shape of a lion that declared him a wealthy man, perhaps a noble. 

"You!" he shouted in a voice that Zaerini immediately classified as 'foppish'. "Savages! Approach at your peril and learn some manners, brutes!" Then he took a closer look at the adventurers and his scowl melted away. "Oh, I apologize for my rudeness", he said. "I mistook you for someone else. Let me introduce myself, I am Aldeth Sashenstar. You must understand that at the moment I'm under a terrible amount of stress. You see my dear fellows, there is a group of uncouth savages that has declared their intention of killing my friends and I. I've been holed up in this cabin for several days and have lacked the wherewithal to try and make an escape. Perhaps you kind sirs would help a fellow in trouble?"

"Sirs?" Zaerini asked, her voice chilly. "What a very interesting way of putting things."

"W-we might be a-a-able to help", Khalid hastily said and placed himself between the bard and the noble. "What i-is it that you w-want?"

"Good men!" Aldeth cheerfully said, blissfully unaware of the murderous looks directed at him from Zaerini and Jaheira. "I'm glad you had the sense of decency to help a man in my situation. Let me explain my predicament. My friends and I come here every year to do some sport hunting. This year however, a group of woodland savages threatened us with bodily harm if we did not stop our hunting trip. Being civilized men, we realized that it's well within our rights to hunt where we damn well please. After a few more days of hunting the crass woodmen lost all pretense of humanity and murdered Elban, one of my oldest friends. I'm sure that they plan to attack our cottage here, so we had best be prepared."

"Actually I'm not a 'good man'", Rini said, still glaring at the foolish nobleman. "And since I'm neither 'good' nor a 'man' I really don't see why I or my friends should risk our lives assisting you, particularly for free. You could just pack up and leave, you know."

"But I cannot", Aldeth protested. "They patrol the area regularly and…" His face suddenly became gray with terror. "Oh no. There they are!" 

Three men were walking into the clearing. They were all dressed in green and brown, colors that allowed them to melt into the forest easily, and their hair and beards were shaggy and unkempt. Druids, most probably. Their leader was a tall fellow whose sour face made him look as if he were permanently sucking on a lemon. "Trespassers and butchers of our wood", he called out in a gravelly voice. "I, Seniyad, have come to administer the punishment that you have brought down upon yourselves. Yet, who are the men that stand beside you? With them we have no quarrel."

_Men?_ Rini thought. _What is it with the people in this wood?_ "Excuse me", she said in a chillingly polite voice, though her rage was starting to simmer beneath the surface. "Some of us happen not to be 'men' in case you didn't notice. In fact, out of the five of us only two are male. You did notice that, I hope? You druids know about natural stuff, you should know these things unless you somehow grow out of acorns. Or did you just assume that our leader had to be male?"

Seniyad frowned. "I do not know who you are", he said, "but it is now to you that I speak; this man has most likely duped you into protecting his sorry hide. He has most likely not told of the druid his friends have slain in cold blood. I will allow you to rethink your earlier decision and leave this man to his most deserved fate."

"Aw, come on", Imoen said. "We can't just let you kill him like that! He's not even doing anything to defend himself, see?" Aldeth, in fact, was shivering like leaf and his teeth were chattering wildly. "Can't we all be friends instead?"

"Yes", Jaheira said. "Preserving the balance does not mean condoning slaughter, not even of fools."

Rini wouldn't have thought it possible, but Seniyad's face turned even more sour at this and when next he spoke, he was actually foaming at the mouth. "You have made your choice fools", he screamed, "now you will suffer together with your hunter friend." 

The three strange druids started chanting together, but Jaheira was too quick for him, summoning powerful lightning from the sky that made Seniyad scream with pain as it struck him. A bright sphere of light appeared above Edwin's outstretched hand and hit one of the other druids in the face, stunning him into insensibility. Imoen was rapidly firing arrow after arrow to interrupt the druids' spellcasting, while Khalid engaged the third druid. Zaerini thought for a moment and then settled upon one of the poison arrows she had left. Once it had struck home Seniyad didn't look sour anymore. He looked quite peaceful actually. Then again, corpses often do. The remaining two druids didn't last long once their leader was down. 

"I…I g-give you my gratitude for the aid you have given me", Aldeth stammered. "If you ever travel to Baldur's Gate, come to the Merchant's League and I will aid you in any way I can in order to show you how grateful I truly am."

"Good", Rini remarked over her shoulder as she walked out of the clearing, her friends by her side. "You can start by changing your pants. It looks like you need it."

"You all right?" Zaerini asked Jaheira once she was certain Aldeth couldn't hear her. "It must have been pretty difficult for you to fight other druids."

The other woman nodded. "I…am well", she said. "I would have preferred to avoid combat, but it was not to be." She smiled briefly. "And those other druids are not the ones I swore to Gorion that I would aid, nor do I think I would have wanted to. Serving the balance does not mean slaying people for killing a few deer."

"Their reasoning is flawed anyway", Edwin remarked. "It's not as if human beings aren't part of the natural order. I fail to see why humans shouldn't be allowed to hunt when other predators are. By applying that sort of logic druids should also kill wolves and bears." 

Jaheira gave the wizard an appreciative look. "Yes", she said. "That is quite true. Now, if we were talking about randomly slaughtering huge numbers of animals, then druids should naturally intervene somehow. But a small group of hunters like this one can hardly make a dent in the animal population of a forest like the Cloakwood. It is not only unjust to attack them for it; it is also foolish and will only breed resentment against druids everywhere." She paused. "You know, wizard, for all our differences I must say you are not entirely hopeless. You certainly possess a keen mind, and you have proved loyal to our cause thus far."

"And for all our differences, druid, I must say you aren't completely stupid. At least you know better than to join forces with people who think personal hygiene means changing the dead twigs in their beards for fresh ones. (And she also knows better than to turn on our leader, or so it seems for now. I suppose I must let her live then, annoying as she is.)"

The party could hear the rush of rapidly flowing water coming from the north and headed that way. It wasn't long before they came upon a wide river, too swift and deep for them to cross. Khalid and Jaheira knew that there should be a bridge close by however, and after they had followed the river upstream for a while, they came upon it. Hardly had the adventurers set foot upon the bridge before they heard a merry voice call out to them. 

"Ho travelers!" it said. "Hold a moment!" The speaker was standing on the bridge, boldly facing the group. _An elf!_ Zaerini thought, her heart taking a small leap within her chest. _That's an elf!_ And so it was. The man in front of them had the slender build and pointed ears of the elves, and a rather good-looking face beneath a thick shock of brown hair. He was dressed in leather armor and carried a large bow, and once he had taken his measure of the group he gave the bard a dazzling white and toothy grin. 

"It's refreshing to find other people in this wood", the stranger said. "And charming ladies too, unlike those unpleasant druids I spotted earlier. Not the sort to catch a man's eye, and so it is a great pleasure to see a fair face or three. My name is Coran: thief and archer! I've been alone in the wilderness for far too long. I wouldn't mind returning to the big city, but I have yet to collect my bounty. I'd share the reward with the lot of you, if you would help hasten the hunt. You interested in hearing more?"

"Perhaps", Rini said, smiling in spite of herself. The elf was being totally ridiculous of course, with all that flattery, but he was an elf, and so he interested her. And he was rather amusing too. "I suppose there is no harm in hearing your proposal."

"Good", Coran said, winking at her. "It comes as no great surprise that you are as wise as you are lovely, sweet lady. The deal is this: I've been hired out by the mayor of Beregost to hunt down a great winged dragon that's been plaguing the caravan routes. He's offered 2 000 gold for its head. Now before you get cold feet, let me allay your fears. The only descriptions of the beast have always mentioned its deadly barbed tail. From what I know about dragons they don't have barbs on their tails - that’s something unique to wyverns. So, all we have to do is find this wyvern's nest and kill it. Our only worries are if it has friends over for dinner! So, what is your decision, yea or nay?"

"We are on an errand of our own", the bard said. "But if we should come across this wyvern, I don't see why we shouldn't help you out with it. Why don't you come with us for now? We seem to be heading in the same direction, and it seems to me that we can help each other."

"Excellent!" Coran exclaimed. "I do not doubt that we shall face many grave dangers together, you have that air of passion and peril about you that speaks to my heart. But as I have always said, the storm is always preferable to the calm." Before the half-elf had the time to react, he had taken her hand in his and was bending over it, kissing it lightly. " _Amin naa lle nai, lirimaer._ I am yours to command, lovely one." 

"Ah…", Zaerini said, hoping that her mouth wasn't gaping open. "That's…great. Really great." _At…at least this elf seems able to overlook my mixed blood. More than overlook, actually. I'm not blushing, am I?_ She gave her friends a slightly desperate look. Khalid looked sympathetic, Jaheria disapproving, Imoen very much amused. As for Edwin, he was quietly grinding his teeth, too angry to speak, and the look in his dark eyes spoke of a deep desire to pull Coran's lips backwards over his head until they met with his own posterior, and then nail them to that spot with a rusty nail dipped in poison.


	32. Tantrum, Traps and Tantalizing Trousers

**In The Cards 32 – Tantrum, Traps and Tantalizing Trousers**

_Thorough preparation is the key to most successful endeavors. Know your foes, know your own limitations and always make sure to be properly prepared before you venture into a dangerous situation. Once the entire Palace Guard is chasing after you with flashing swords and man-eating dogs, it is just a little late to wish that you'd taken the time to glue on your false mustache more properly._

_Excerpt from 'Interview With An Assassin'_

“What…did…you…SAY?!” The question began as a slow growl, which then increased in volume and power until it had become the roar of an enraged beast. Sailian Daan stared into a pair of burning golden eyes and knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that death was only a heartbeat away. 

“I…”, Sailian tried to say, but the words came out only as a strangled choke. The mailed fist that was clutching his throat tightened just a little further and he could see multicolored spots dancing before his eyes. How could this all have gone so wrong so quickly? He asked himself this but found no answer. When the bandit camp had fallen his first thought had been to run away as quickly as possible, find himself a new employer elsewhere. But then he had had his unfortunate idea. Though most of his fellow bandits believed themselves to be working for the Zhentarim, Sailian knew better than that. He was good at gathering information, always had been. A comment overheard here, a remark snatched there, it all added up to one thing. The Iron Throne. And one name stood out, the name he would have paid for with his life if Tazok had caught him spying on his private conversation with Ardenor Crush, one name that was at the heart of the matter. Sarevok. 

And so, even as he watched his allies fall around him, Sailian Daan had made up his mind. He would seek out the Iron Throne in Baldur’s Gate, seek out this Sarevok, and make his report to him. He was sure to be rewarded for delivering such important information. Finding the Iron Throne had been no problem. Gaining an audience with Sarevok had been more difficult, but not impossible. What Sailian unfortunately hadn’t counted on was the fact that Sarevok would turn out to be homicidally insane. When he had met the man, he had been rather disconcerted to find himself in the company of a huge warrior radiating power and arrogance the way the sun gives off heat and light. _Why is he wearing full battle-armor indoors?_ Sailian had thought. _Surely he cannot be expecting an attack here, in the Iron Throne building itself?_ And such a hideous thing too, decorated with foot-long spikes. Then there were those eyes, the only part of Sarevok’s face really visible, and the unearthly light that shone in them. They made Sailian feel like his spine had turned into a pillar of ice when he looked into them. 

In retrospect, perhaps he should have presented his news a little more diplomatically. But at the time he’d been so anxious to get out of Sarevok’s presence that he’d simply blurted it all out, which was why he was currently pushed up against a wall with a very upset Sarevok slowly throttling him to death. 

“Sarevok”, another voice mildly interjected. “It is awfully hard for a man to explain himself if he is being strangled. Perhaps you might ease up on him a little?” That was Winski, the mage who apparently functioned as Sarevok’s advisor. A gaunt man wearing black, with lines of old pain and bitterness etched into his face, and with eyes that in their own way were just as frightening as Sarevok’s. They were the hollow eyes of a man who had a cause, and nothing else. At least Sarevok was emotional about his killing, Sailian thought. The wizard would likely swat him out of the way as if he were no more than an annoying fly, not even worth getting angry about. 

Sarevok stiffened slightly. “Very well”, he said, and his voice lowered even further until it became a deep rumble somewhere within his armor-plated chest. The grip on Sailian’s throat eased a little. “You. Bandit. ‘Explain’ yourself.”

Sailian fought to draw breath, heard the air wheeze into his burning lungs. Cold sweat was dripping off his face and throat onto the cold mailed fist that held him. Sarevok didn’t seem to notice. “It…it is as I…as I said before, Great Lord”, he stammered, picking an honorific he hoped would help mollify the man in front of him. “The…the camp has fallen. I…I came as soon as I could, to let you know.”

“How?” Winski asked, sounding curious. “How exactly did it fall? I would have thought such a thing impossible, unless the Fist mounted a full-scale attack.” 

Sailian paused. How had the camp fallen anyway? “I…I am not certain”, he admitted. “One minute…one minute everything was calm, and then…then there was fighting everywhere. The hobgoblins, they fought the Talons…and the gnolls…they fought everybody. And…and people got sick in the middle of everything. It…it was a slaughter I tell you.” He paused. “Then...then when it was over I…I entered the command tent. To…to see if Tazok was there.” Actually, it had been to see if he could manage to steal something of value, but he really didn’t think Sarevok needed to know that.

“I see”, Sarevok said, his grip tightening a little. “And was he?”

“N-N-No! No! There were corpses…corpses on the floor. That was all. That is all I know. Please, Great Lord, I only wanted to aid you, to please you!” 

For a moment there was silence, except for Sailian’s labored breathing and the blood rushing in his head. And there was a terrible sound. Deep, throaty laughter tinged with bloodlust and madness. “And so you shall, little man”, Sarevok said, the fires of his eyes flaring up with even greater brilliance. “So you shall.” The pain was excruciating, and it was accompanied by a nauseating, cracking sound as Sailian’s larynx broke. The last thing the bandit saw was a pair of burning, golden eyes, and the last thing he heard was that chilling laughter.

“A trifle unnecessary, don’t you think?” Winski asked as Sailian’s corpse dropped to the ground. “Not to mention messy.”

“He provoked me”, Sarevok snarled. 

“By telling you the truth? It seems I ought to fear for my own safety as well then.”

Sarevok slowly turned to face his mentor, and when next he spoke his voice was cold. “Do not push me too hard, Winski”, he said. “My patience is not unlimited.”

“Really?” the wizard snorted. “How odd. I never would have noticed.” He gave the corpse a dismissive glance. “Just what was the purpose of that little exercise in futility, if I may be bold enough to ask?”

“He was one of those who failed me. He will never get the chance to do so again.”

“I should think not. Nor will he get the chance to serve you. Really, Sarevok. Killing the messenger serves no purpose other than making the surviving messengers give you false information in order to keep you happy. You ought to know better by now.”

“I am the New Lord of Murder!” Sarevok said, and there was a strange exhilaration to his voice. “I do as I please, and each death can only serve to bring me closer to my destiny.” His eyes narrowed. “You can help me – or hinder me. It should be clear by now what I do to those who hinder me.” 

“I will always help you”, Winski said, crossing the room to stare directly into the warrior’s face. “You know that, or at least you should. You used to know it.” His voice became even dryer than before. “And you are not a god yet. You are merely the future Lord of Murder, and you have just left a rather messy corpse on my brand new Calimshite carpet. Please be kind enough to remove it on your way out. It’s hard enough finding new help these days, or so I hear. Getting servants skilled in corpse removal may well be an insurmountable challenge.” 

For a moment it seemed that Sarevok’s rage was about to flare up again. He stood quiet, motionless, as if listening to an inner debate. Then he laughed quietly. “Very well”, he said. “I shall see to it. I do need you yet, after all. What did you make of this report?”

The wizard frowned. “It is puzzling”, he said. “Why would the camp just fall apart like that? It makes no sense, and I can’t see it occurring naturally. It would be too much of a coincidence. No, there has been some outside influence as work here, that much is clear.”

“My sister”, Sarevok said, and that inhuman fury was seeping back into his voice once more. “My dear, sweet little sister. It has to be her.” 

“Are you sure? She is young, inexperienced. Do you really think she could pull off a thing like that?”

“Who else could it be? No, this is her doing. I know it.” A large fist swept out, sending an assortment of delicate porcelain figurines crashing to the floor from their place on the mantelpiece. “Damn her!” A heavy blow totally shattered the glass door to one of the many bookcases lining the walls of the room. “Curse her!” Yet another blow, and large cracks formed in the polished surface of Winski’s desk. “I WILL MAKE HER PAY FOR THIS!” 

“You”, Winski said, “will begin by stop demolishing my furniture. These are **my** chambers, in case you didn’t notice. I understand if you feel like breaking things, but please do so somewhere else.” Ignoring the furious glare the warrior sent his way he hastily conjured a magic portal. “There”, he said. “That leads to the Undercity. Go kill some ghouls, that will help you calm down. I’ll stop by later when you’re ready to make some further plans.” For a moment Sarevok simply stood there, breathing heavily, and the wizard feared that he might have gone too far. Then Sarevok gave him a final, baleful glance and darted through the portal. It winked out of existence behind him. 

Winski leaned against the wall, wiping his brow. That had been close. Too close. The boy was getting more highly strung every day. Winski would not stop speaking the truth as he saw it, however. He owed it to Sarevok. It wasn’t as if anybody else did, except for Tamoko. How was Sarevok supposed to ascend to his appointed place if he kept striking out randomly like this, without proper control? _And so I must provide that control for him_ , Winski thought. _Whether he likes it or not, it is my duty. Then, once he comes into his own, he will be truly free to do as he wills with the world_. The mage turned around, and then he sighed. “Typical”, he said. “He forgot the corpse.” 

The wizard sighed again. He cared for Sarevok as for his own son, and cherished his unique strengths and potential, but sometimes the boy could be such a handful. Absolutely impossible, to tell the truth. _So brilliant, but so…so erratic. I shouldn’t think there could be anybody on the face of Toril who ever had to deal with bringing up a child that gifted and that reckless. Pity though. If there were, I would certainly like to sit down for a long, long talk with them. Exchange trade secrets, as it were_. 

Sarevok raged through the dark tunnels and catacombs of the Undercity, far beneath the city of Baldur’s Gate. The undead scattered like frightened sheep before him as he stalked the gloomy passages, black blood dripping off the Sword of Chaos. The bloodshed helped some, but it was not enough to calm the furious storm in his mind. The undead were dead already, after all. It was not the same thing as taking human lives, not at all. 

NO, MY SON, his Father’s voice spoke inside his mind. YOU ARE RIGHT IN THIS. IT IS TRUE MURDER THAT YOU CRAVE, TRUE MURDER THAT WILL MAKE YOU COME INTO YOUR HERITAGE. YOU KNOW THIS, IT IS A TRUTH BRED INTO YOUR VERY BONES. SPILLING THE LIVES OF THESE INSIGNIFICANT ANTS IS NOTHING. THE LIVES OF NATIONS, THE LIVES OF YOUR SIBLINGS – THAT IS WHAT WILL GRANT YOU LIFE EVERLASTING. 

“My siblings…” Sarevok hissed between his teeth as he struck the head off yet another ghoul. “My sister.”

YESSS… YOUR SISTER. THAT LITTLE ONE HAS PROVEN A NOT SO INSIGNIFICANT THORN IN YOUR SIDE, HASN’T SHE? PERHAPS SHE OUGHT TO BE MY CHAMPION…

“No! NOOOO!” Sarevok screamed, and the scream echoed through the Undercity to make the undead shiver in their deepest holes as they hid in fear. “She will not! She will not! She had it all, right from the start. Everything I didn’t. She…She took it all. She will not take this too. Never. NEVER!”

His Father’s voice chuckled quietly. VERY GOOD, MY SON. IT SEEMS YOU ARE WORTHY TO BE MY CHOSEN ONE AFTER ALL. TELL ME THEN, HOW DO YOU PREPARE TO DEAL WITH HER?

Sarevok thought for a moment, pausing in his track. The air was cold down here, but his blood was burning hot and he didn’t feel it, no more than he felt the slow dwindling of what had once made him human. “The mines…the mines in the Cloakwood. She is likely to go there next. I will make certain she is intercepted, and this time I will send only the best assassins available.” He smiled; a smile reminiscent of the grin of a skull. “And if they too should fail – then I must make an exception from my original plans, despite the things I have to deal with here in the City. Then…I shall go after her myself. I so long to gaze upon my sister’s face once more. One…final time.” He laughed, and he heard his Father laugh with him. 

EXCELLENT, SON, spoke the voice of the dead god. TRULY, YOU ARE EVERYTHING I EVER HOPED YOU WOULD BE…

And Sarevok smiled at the approval of his Father. 

_Deep within the Cloakwood forest…_

"It is as I always say, fair one. The essence of pleasure is spontaneity. If you wish to achieve the greatest of pleasure, you must needs give in to your whims." 

Rini gave Coran an appraising look. The elf was walking by her side, his step light, his smile carefree. The remark could be interpreted innocently enough, she supposed. But from what she had seen of the archer so far, she wouldn't bet on it. He was an outrageous flatterer, and his comments frequently had her rolling her eyes. A small part of her couldn't help enjoying them though. _Back home…in Candlekeep…they all thought I was a freak. It's not as if I take him seriously or anything but…it's just nice to hear somebody tell me that I'm pretty. And he certainly sounds like he means it._

"Whims, Coran?" the half-elf asked. "What kind of whims would those be?" 

"Yes, please do enlighten us", Edwin sneered. The wizard was walking on her other side, looking a bit like a red-robed thundercloud. Whenever Coran moved a little closer to her, Edwin did as well, with the result that she was starting to feel rather hard pressed. "Frolicking on flowering meadows?" Edwin went on. "Talking to trees? No, wait. Let me guess. Going by your looks, it would have to entail frenzied mating with feral pigs. Yes, I'm sure your mother was very…spontaneous."

Coran had gone a bright red, even to the very tips of his pointed ears. "Insult my mother again, wizard, and you will find out firsthand about the swiftness of my sword."

"Ah, yes. That reminds me. Your…sword. It almost has to be 'swift', for you to have had time to enjoy all those liaisons I distinctly heard you boasting of to Khalid earlier. Pity you never learnt that females aren't necessarily impressed by…swiftness. Rather the contrary, in fact." The wizard gave the elf a condescending look. "But a creature of your limited intellectual capacity can hardly be expected to comprehend the finer points of the art of erotica. (Just try to keep yourself from going 'Oink' at the height of your passion and you may yet be able to find yourself a mate. I would offer to summon an ogress or two, but I fear you wouldn't meet their standards in any way.)"

Coran was baring his teeth in a snarl by now. "I'll…kill…"

"Would you look at that!" Zaerini interrupted in a forcedly cheerful voice. "There's somebody standing over there, on the other side of that river. Coran, why don't you go on ahead to scout?" 

The elf bowed briefly, still scowling darkly at Edwin. "As you wish, fair one", he said. "Though I would greatly enjoy teaching this prattling fool of a human a lesson I shall obey your smallest command, and gladly." He hurried off. 

"What's wrong with you?" the bard hissed as soon as Coran was out of hearing. "Do you want to get into a fight to the death with him?"

"The man is an imbecile", Edwin stubbornly insisted. "I'm simply trying to make you realize that he is not fit to be a member of our group."

"By implying that his mother consorts with pigs. Eddie, I agreed to hunt Wyverns with him. That's it. He'll probably want to leave once we're done with that." 

"No, he won't!" the Red Wizard declared angrily. "He's already sniffing around after you like…like a cat on the prowl! It will only get worse. You can't be alone with him, it's not safe." 

"I'm sorry", Zaerini said, her golden eyes suddenly flickering hotly. "I don't think I heard that right. I'm sure I couldn't possibly have heard you telling me what I can or can't do." 

"Somebody has to look after your interests if you're too besotted to do it yourself."

"Besotted? Besotted?! I've only just met the man! Who do you think I am?"

Edwin took her by the arm and pulled her closer, looking directly into her eyes. Conflicting emotions flickered rapidly across his face. "I think you're a woman seeing what she wants to see, rather than what is actually there", he said in a low voice. "I tell you, that elf will only cause you grief if you…if you choose to take up with him. I…don't want to see that happen."

_He really cares about you, kitten_ , Softpaws said. _I think that's very sweet. Don't you?_

_I…I suppose you're right, Softy. It really is. But he mustn't think that he can order me about. That’s crossing a line_. "Edwin", the half-elf said, briefly touching the wizard's cheek. "Thank you for your concern. But there really is no need for you to worry about me. I'm just fine. Please don't let Coran get to you so much."

"Very well", the wizard muttered darkly. "If you wish it, I will refrain from transforming him into a spotted toad. For now. But if he dares to touch…er…that is…if he should in any way annoy you, he will be dining on raw flies and sleeping on a lily-pad." 

The bard smiled mischievously. "And I wouldn't have it any other way." 

The stranger Zaerini had spotted turned out to be a teenaged boy, huddling miserably on the other side of the river. He was tall and skinny, with wispy blond hair, and his red eyes indicated that he had done a fair bit of crying recently. 

"This is Tiber", Coran explained once the rest of the party reached them. "I think he had better tell you himself what his worry is." 

"Y-y-yes", the boy sniffed. "I…I am sorry to trouble you, but I…I really need your help."

Rini felt her heart go out to him. He looked so utterly miserable. "What's wrong?" she asked. "Tell me, and then we'll see whether we can help you or not."

It was almost painful to see the way new hope dawned in those blue eyes. "Thank you! Thank...you....it's my brother you see. He and I went into the Cloakwood to clear the woods of the spider colony that infests it. I know it sounds foolish.... but my brother had found the sword 'Spider's Bane'! The sword was created to kill spiders....and we thought we could become famous.... the heroes of Cloakwood, and all that." Tiber's voice cracked slightly as he went on. "He told me to wait here, and that he would come back for me soon. But my brother hasn't returned yet....and it's been more than a week. Please, could you go into the woods and find him for me......my mother would be so shattered if Chelak were to be dead."

Imoen looked almost ready to cry herself. "Rini, that is so horrible", she said. "We have to help him."

The half-elf nodded. She really felt for the boy. _I have lost kin myself. How could I not want to help somebody else avoid losing his?_ "We'll see what we can do", she said, patting Tiber on the shoulder. "It we find your brother, we will bring him back to you. I promise." 

"Th-.thank you!" Tiber stammered. "Thank you so much! I'll…I'll just wait right here then. His…his name is Chelak. Did I say that already? Oh, I just know you'll find him!"

As the party headed into the forest Zaerini called a brief halt. "We should probably be wary around here", she said. "There's no way of knowing what lies ahead, and something obviously kept Chelak from coming back."

"Yes", Jaheira agreed. "We should be as careful as possible. Perhaps it would be wise to do some scouting ahead."

"Hey, no problem!" Imoen cheerfully said. "I'll take care of it, don't ya worry."

"No, no little girl", Coran said with a bright smile and puffed his chest out. "This is dangerous. You'd better let a real professional handle this."

"Oh?" Imoen said, looking very innocent. "And who would that be?"

"Why, me of course!" He tossed his head proudly. "My skill is great, but should it not be enough then luck will surely favor me." He winked at Zaerini. "After all, luck is always on the side of the romantic." He gave her a smoldering look. "I'm sure it will be deathly perilous - but great peril yields great beauty. And perhaps it might even make great beauty yield, hmmm?"

"And perhaps you would like me to see if your tongue yields enough to be used to strangle you before you make me vomit", Edwin muttered. "That would be a most interesting experiment, I think." 

Zaerini gave him a disapproving look. "Go ahead, Coran", she said. "Let's see what you can do."

"Would that I could display all of my skills, lovely one", the archer said, "but right now you shall have to settle for that of securing the path for your dainty feet." He hurried off with a wave. 

_Dainty feet?_ Rini thought, staring at her own feet. _Not that they're huge or anything, but I never heard anybody call them that before._

"I give him ten minutes", Jaheira calmly stated and Khalid nodded agreement.

"Five, at the most", Edwin said. 

"Two", Imoen contradicted him. "He's no good. No real professional would boast like that. I bet he's really good at sneaking into bedchambers though."

"Oh, come now", Zaerini protested. "Surely he can't be that bad…" A loud scream interrupted her. 

"Wanna bet?" Imoen asked with her most innocent smile as she casually juggled her lockpicks.

There were strands of webbing all over, Zaerini soon noticed as she ran deeper into the forest. Sticking to the grass, clinging to the underbrush, strung between the trees. Thick, gray, sticky webs. Once her boot stuck and she had to yank herself free with all her strength. She privately decided that she'd rather not meet the spider that had made those webs. Coran was still yelling, so at least he had to be alive. Once she came into a clearing the half-elf stopped briefly, staring at the sight ahead. Webs were everywhere. In the midst of the mess a group of giant spiders clung to the strands, long hairy legs moving leisurely as if they were communicating with each other. Coran had apparently been careless enough to step into a trap. He was now hanging upside-down from a large tree, his left ankle caught in a rope of webbing, and he spun slowly around and around as a fat old spider attempted to wrap him into a cocoon of spider silk for later consumption. Most of the spiders were gathered in one big cluster though. 

"Edwin?" the bard whispered. "Want to help me out here? I think a little fire ought to do the trick."

"Certainly", the wizard agreed. They both started chanting their spells at the same time, keeping their voices low so as not to alert the spiders. Two large fireballs struck the group of spiders, turning them into blackened husks and burning their webs away. The one up in the tree chittered angrily and charged, but a few well-placed arrows from Imoen and a swing or two from Jaheira's scimitar rapidly dealt with it. 

"Well, that's that", Rini said. "Let's get Coran down and…" She paused. There had been a noise. An angry, chittering noise. And then a group of ten more spiders burst out of the undergrowth, led by two of the ugliest creatures the bard had ever seen. They were black and covered with bristly hairs, with thin legs, dragging arms and huge potbellies. The faces were incredibly ugly, but there was a general impression of long fangs and hungry red eyes. 

"Ettercaps!" Edwin hissed. "Be careful, they're highly poisonous." He hurriedly used one of the wands he carried and a group of six large wolves ran at the spiders, growling and snapping, crippling the creatures by tearing at their legs. 

"Khalid, fall back!" Rini ordered. "Jaheira, keep them off us!" The druid was already chanting a spell, and then vines and leaves exploded up off the ground to snatch ettercaps and spiders alike, holding them fast. Imoen was firing arrows as rapidly as she could, fire arrows that burned as well as they pierced. _Have to take out as many as possible before they reach us_ , Zaerini thought. _Must watch out for that poison_. She did have another Fireball memorized, but she didn't dare use it at the moment for fear of burning out Jaheira's entrapping plants. A Magic Missile at least served to take one of the spiders out. Two had got loose now, and Khalid and Jaheira were engaging them while Edwin started another spell. Bluish-white lightning flashed from the Red Wizard's fingertips, bouncing from one spider to the next. When it was done only two remained, and those were easily dealt with. 

"Coran, what exactly happened?" Zaerini asked once the elf had been released. 

The archer flushed slightly. "Ah…a slight mishap, my lady", he said. "These creatures are most cunning, concealing their traps in the most fiendish of manners."

"What, like this?" Imoen innocently interrupted, pointing at a thin strand of webbing that was stretched across the path. "That's not very difficult to spot, is it? I don't think it is. Do you think it is? All you need to do is use your eyes properly, or so I've been told. I could help you, if you want. I'm very good at spotting traps." 

"Ah…", Coran said, looking highly embarrassed. "I don't…"

"Do as she says", Rini told him. "We don't want to walk into another trap." The elf obeyed, but he looked highly put out at the idea of the young human girl taking the lead. He looked even more annoyed when it became painfully clear that she knew what she was doing.

"See?" Imoen said as she snipped off another strand of trap-webbing. "This isn't so difficult, is it? I'm sure you could learn it if you tried." For some reason Coran didn't look very appreciative of this helpful comment. 

It wasn't long before the adventurers came upon the cave, or rather the nest. It was spun from spider silk, thick and sturdy, and there was a dark opening that seemed to beckon invitingly. 

"I never had any particular wish to step into a spider's house", Rini muttered, "but I think we're going to have to. If Chelak is still alive I have a feeling that's where we'll find him."

"Either way, this expedition hasn't been an entire waste of time", Edwin said. "I did manage to harvest some ettercap poison earlier."

"What could anybody possibly want with that fiendish a substance?" Coran asked with an air of distaste. 

The wizards raised an eyebrow in mock surprise. "You never heard of ettercap poison?" he asked. "What kind of a rogue are you? It's extremely deadly, and extremely valuable. (But I suppose he wouldn't know. The only things he ever stole were likely underwear.)"

The smell inside the nest was hot and musty, making Rini feel like she was about to sneeze at any second. The sneeze stuck in her throat however, once she saw what awaited inside. It wasn't the spiders or ettercaps that bothered her. It was the woman. Or rather, what had once been a woman. She was bloated, huge, an obscenely bulging mass of fat, far surpassing any normal obesity. Tiny arms and legs, shrunken into uselessness, stuck out from the gigantic torso and waved impotently in the air as she spotted the intruders. Her hair had mostly fallen out, her eyes were hard and glittering with madness and pain. And from her massive belly webbing protruded, webbing and eggs. Spiders swarmed all over her.

_They're…they're feeding on her!_ The bard tried her best not to vomit. _Laying their eggs on and inside her body and…and…she knows exactly what's happening to her. And yet, the spiders seem also to be partially under her command…_

As if in response, the massive creature opened her mouth and spoke. "My spiderssss", she hissed. "Kill them! Kill them all!" 

"Hey wait!", Imoen protested. "We've come here.......to...to benefit from your divine wisdom. Let us speak."

The woman's tiny arms waved again in strange and meaningless patterns and she licked her cracked lips. "You've come here to learn from my infinite wissssdom? Sssspeak quickly!"

_What do I say?_ Zaerini thought, her mind racing quickly. _What could I possibly ask her?_

_You could ask her how come she's so fat_ , Softpaws suggested. 

_Softy, you're not helping here._

"What's your name?" the bard eventually decided on, thinking it a nice, neutral question.

The spider woman thought for a moment, as if she was trying hard to recall something long forgotten. "My name isss....isss.....Centeol, yesss, that is my name."

"Oh. Centeol. That's nice. Er…how did you wind up here?"

Centeol's eyes widened, shining with hate. The spiders raced ever more quickly across her disfigured body. "I am cursssed", she said. "The archmage, Jon Irenicus. He did this, cursssed me into…into thissss! I loved Jon, but now I hate him, as I hate you and everything. Spiderssss...kill them all." The last was uttered with a scream of pain and rage. 

As the spiders and ettercaps charged Rini could see Edwin muttering under his breath, his fingers moving swiftly as he cast a spell. She hadn't the time to ask what it was though. Coran was proving that even if he was no good at finding traps, he was an excellent archer. Two spiders were down already, looking rather like giant pin cushions. There were others left though, including two great black ones with sharp ridges protruding from their legs. It was with dismay that Rini could see one of those ridges slash Imoen's leg open, ripping up a bleeding wound that made the thief stumble. Before she had the time to react Jaheira was already there though, holding the creature off while Khalid finished it. The bard concentrated on using her own bow, picking off the beasts as quickly as she could. 

When it was over, Centeol was the only foe left alive and breathing. Oddly enough, she no longer looked hostile. 

"A charm spell", Edwin explained. "I thought it might be beneficial to question her." 

"Good idea", Zaerini said, carefully approaching the spider-woman. Behind her she could hear Jaheira casting a healing spell on Imoen. It seemed her friend would be fine. "Centeol?" she told the unfortunate creature. "I am your friend, and you can trust me. Who is this mage you spoke of? This Irenicus?"

Centeol hissed quietly. "Jon", she said. "Jon Irenicus, the Archmage. I…loved him once, you know. But I crosssed him, plotted againssst him to win hissss love. Pointlessss. He cannot love. He isssss dead insssside. Sssso he cursssed me inssstead, twisssted my body, put me here asss an…experiment. Ssset the spidersss to feed me, and to feed on me. I cannot even essscape the conssstant pain into death. If you were truly my friendssss - you would kill me." 

There were tears in the half-elf's eyes by now as the horror of that miserable existence came to her. "Don't worry, Centeol", she said, her voice thick. "We are your friends. I promise." And as she drove her sword home, for once she was glad of that part of her sire's heritage that helped her find the proper spot so easily. 

"Irenicus", Edwin said, deep in thought. "I don't recall ever hearing that name before."

"Me neither", Rini said with a shudder as she gazed upon Centeol's sad remains. "And I hope I never will again." 

"L-l-look here!" Khalid suddenly exclaimed. "I f-found him! He's alive!" What the half-elven warrior had found was the body of a young man, wrapped up tightly in spider silk and tucked into a corner of the nest. He was pale and sweating, but also cold, and his breathing was quick and shallow. "J-Jaheira? He is p-poisoned."

"I can do nothing", the druid grimly answered. "I have no proper spell handy. Does nobody have an antidote?" There was no answer. "Then I fear he will die. I can attempt to heal him, but the poison will still run its course."

_Not so, kitten_ , Softpaws remarked, watching the unconscious man intently. _Remember your dream?_

And she did. Zaerini crossed the floor as if in a trance and knelt down by the wounded man, touching his brow lightly. Reaching deep inside herself she summoned the power she knew lay dormant, waiting. She had done it in her dream. She could surely do it again. She touched the wrongness, the foulness inside the man, and she drew them out, purifying him. When it was done, he sat up, still looking pale and drawn, but very much alive. He was a young man she saw, with the same white-blond hair as Tiber.

"You…you saved me", he said with great wonder. "Thank…thank you my lady." Then he stumbled to his feet. "I…I must get back at once. My brother…Tiber…he is waiting for me. He must be so worried!" He handed her a sword, a large twohander that shimmered in purple and indigo. "Please…take this. It is Spider's Bane, the famous sword. It is obviously not for me to carry, seeing what a mess I made of things. I have a regular one, that will see me and my brother back to Beregost. Thank again, I can never repay you for what you've done." He smiled weakly and walked out of the nest in the direction of the river. 

After the party had set out once more, Coran was soon back to his irrepressible self. "A sad fate", he said. "To be thrown off the path of adventure that easily, I mean." He smiled widely at Zaerini. "But you, oh fiery one, have more passion in your little finger than most have in their entire body. I can tell it. You live as I do, knowing that life is an adventure, and without adventure it is no life." 

"Hm. Flattering words."

"True ones. Now, let's get back to the issue of getting pleasure out of spontaneity…" And then he screamed with horror as he stared at his hands and arms, suddenly covered with large and unsightly warts and boils. His face was much the same. "Errrgh…", Coran said and dropped to the ground in a dead faint. 

Zaerini slowly turned around, looking Edwin straight in the face. The wizard had a very satisfied gleam in his eyes and his smile was even wider than Coran's had been. He shrugged when he saw the bard's accusatory glance. "What?" he said. "I was only trying to be spontaneous, as he suggested. Giving in to my whims, the way he said." His smile widened just a little bit more, taking on a predatory quality. "And it certainly gave me pleasure." 

_Elsewhere, in the city of Baldur’s Gate…_

There was a corpse on the stairway again this morning. A common sneakthief by the looks of it, perhaps somebody who had attempted to pickpocket the wrong adventurer and paid dearly for his mistakes. Dekaras shook his head and stepped over the dead body, but not until he'd made sure that it really was dead. You couldn't afford to take unnecessary chances in the Elfsong Tavern. _Then again_ , the assassin thought, _I've never really approved of taking unnecessary chances, period._

The journey to Baldur's Gate had been an uneventful one, and he'd entered the city with no problems. He'd spent the first few days the same way he always did in a new city if he had the time to do so, getting to know the streets and the alleyways, mapping the place out in his head until he knew it almost as well as the back of his hand. He wasn't quite at that point yet, but he could easily find his way to all the more important landmarks, both official and unofficial ones. You never knew when the knowledge of just where a dark alley ended up could save your life. 

Of course, examining the layout of the city also meant getting a feel for what the citizens were talking about. And amidst the general din and rumors some subjects kept cropping up. The iron crisis, and most importantly war. War, and probably not too far off in the future either. It was Amn which had been behind the raids and the iron crisis, people said. The Amnians were mobilizing their forces, just south of the Cloudpeak mountains. They ought to be dealt with soon, and harshly. Why weren't the Grand Dukes doing anything? They should attack before Amn did, so as not to get taken by surprise. 

That was the way the gossip went. Dekaras thought about it as he brushed past the hulking figures of two half-orcs who were having a surreptitious conversation in a corner, paying them no obvious attention. War, war, war and iron. Oh, and war. It did make a certain amount of sense. Take out the Nashkel mines, intercept the incoming caravans, then supply your own iron. But he very much doubted Sarevok would be interested in a scheme that involved simple profiteering. There had to be something more, and Dekaras fully intended to find out what. First, he would need to make some preparations though. 

The Elfsong Tavern was a fairly large establishment, and a popular meeting place for adventurers of all kinds, coming there to find new commissions or brag about their past accomplishments over drinks. This also meant that fights to the death were a common occurrence, and more than one proud adventurer had seen his lifeblood ebb away onto the dirty floor of the Elfsong while the ghost that had given the tavern its name sang its mournful dirge. If you heard a scream from one of the private meeting rooms, you didn't hurry to investigate. You simply ordered another drink and forgot about it and hoped that the staff would get the remains out of the way before you tripped over them. Patrons nervously joked about how there was supposedly a secret hatch deep in the Elfsong's basement, where the bodies could be dumped directly into the sewers with nobody the wiser. 

Dekaras had been in two fights so far, and he was starting to find the whole thing rather annoying. It didn't really help if you disposed of one fool, fresh ones came streaming into the city every day. He had considered changing inns, but the Elfsong was very convenient if you wanted to remain anonymous. _However_ , he thought, _the next idiot who challenges me to a duel may just manage to irritate me enough that he won't get a swift death_. He snorted quietly to himself. _Duels. A very fancy word for killing. The way I see it, you either kill or you don't. Prettying it up is for amateurs._

Shaking his head once more the assassin headed into the streets of Baldur's Gate. His first goal this morning was a certain clothes shop in the southeastern part of the city. To the casual observer 'Three Tantalizing Trousers' didn't look like much. To those who knew what to look for, however, it held untold treasures. Dekaras entered the shop, taking note of the dark and shabby interior and the few sad items of unfashionable clothing displayed here and there. No other customers were present. Behind the counter there was a gnome, a wizened little man with a fluffy fringe of white hair around his mostly bald head, half-moon glasses that kept slipping down his nose and very sharp eyes, like those of a bird. 

"Yes?" the gnome asked. "Can I help you?"

"Perhaps", Dekaras said. "I'm looking for a pair of extremely flared orange trousers, decorated with enormous flowers in the colors of feces-brown and vomit-green." 

The gnome raised his head slightly and his eyes glittered. "I see", he said. "A discriminating customer. Well, good sir, I may have such an item in stock. Not out here though, you'll have to come into the backroom." He opened a cleverly concealed door and stepped through it into a narrow dark passage. 

"An interesting choice of password", Dekaras remarked in a conversational tone as he followed the gnome. 

"Very useful", the gnome said. "I can't see any outsider walking in and accidentally wanting to buy such a hideous item. Here we are, sir." The room the passage entered into was very different from the dingy little shop. This room was neat and clean, and brightly lit with magical lanterns. It was also tightly packed with clothes of all kinds. Silks and velvets befitting the Grand Dukes themselves. Filthy rags like those a beggar would wear. Wizard robes. Priestly garbs. Flaming Fist uniforms. Too many different costumes for the eye to take in all at once. "Now sir", the gnome said. "How may I really help you?" 

A short while later Dekaras exited the shop again, pleased with how his plans were progressing. It would take a couple of days before the costume he had ordered would be ready, but he had complete faith in the little man's capabilities. _I do believe it will be perfect in every detail_ , he thought. As it should be. Disguises could be extremely helpful, and he'd often used them. For what he had in mind he would need something rather more complex than he could construct himself however, and he could afford no mistakes. _Or, as an alternative plan, I could always go with the hideous orange trousers. Who knows, I might be able to nauseate Sarevok to death._ Then he remembered the warrior's taste in armor. _No, on second thought probably not. He has to be immune to such things._

The assassin now headed back towards the eastern city gate, and his next stop. Passing by the glittering blue dome of the city's mage shop, the Sorcerous Sundries, he went inside a narrow building, identical to the dozens of others that surrounded it. Inside, a very large man sat on a bench, reading a book that Dekaras could see was titled. 'The History Of Succubi - With Illustrations'. "Password?" the doorman grunted with a threatening glare. 

"I love fluffy bunnies", Dekaras responded, managing not to wince. _It does make sense. A Flaming Fist spy would be bound to guess on 'Blood' or something like that. I just wish it didn't make me feel sick to my stomach every time I have to say it. Well, at least the resources of the Guild will be worth the bother of making myself known to them. I hope._

"Yeah, all right. Go on in." The guard stepped aside, allowing the assassin passage into the next room. 

The Thieves Guild of Baldur's Gate wasn't particularly large as such things went. At a first glance, it might almost have been taken for a tavern. There were an assortment of odd chairs and tables scattered about, and a small bar. If you were to have an in-depth conversation with the fat and jolly bartender however, you would find that drinks weren't all he served, but that he was in fact also an excellent purveyor of potions and poisons of all kinds. Of course, some might argue that certain of the drinks were poison in themselves, such as the notorious 'Mindflayer' that promised to suck your brains out as soon as you touched it. _Actually_ , Dekaras thought, _you'd probably have to be brainless to touch it in the first place_. Last night he'd seen a very small glass of it make a very large half-ogre pass out on the very hard floor, providing the assembled thieves with a concerto of very loud snores. 

Thieves sat at tables here and there, conversing quietly, but it was a bit too early in the day for very many to be up and about. Dekaras soon spotted the person he was looking for. A thin young man with an earnest face and mousy hair was sitting at one of the tables, drawing. 

"Hello, Wizard", Dekaras said to announce himself as he stepped up behind the young man's shoulder. "Busy day?"

"AAAaagh!" The Wizard almost collided with the ceiling, and once he came down again and turned around his face was very pale. "Please don't do that", he begged. "You scared me half to death."

"Force of habit", the assassin said, shrugging. "We all do what we're good at. I sneak up on people and kill them. You…make wishes come true. Speaking of which, do you have the items I requested?"

The Wizard nodded. He was an excellent forger and had got his nickname because of his ability to change reality, providing you with proof of just about anything you needed. "I have them", he said, taking out a thick wad of papers and accepting a pouch of money in return. "Just as you specified. And I made certain to select places far out in the countryside, the way you wanted."

"Excellent", Dekaras said, looking through the papers. Everything seemed to be in order. If he hadn't known they were forgeries he'd have believed them himself. "Yes, I wanted to make it harder to investigate my claims, in case anybody should think of doing so. This should serve most admirably."

"It was a pleasure", the Wizard nodded. "Half the people who want my help don't really know what they're doing, the bloody idiots. Always nice working with somebody who does. I don't suppose there's any chance of you telling me what you have in mind?"

"I don't think so", the assassin said. "I'll be looking into a few things. That is all you need to know."

"Well, let me know if there's anything else I can help you with. I do paintings too, you know. I've sold three 'Serena of Sembia' this year already." He chuckled. "Those greedy nobles, all of them so eager to their hands on a masterpiece. Well, they do. My paintings are masterpieces, in a way. Sure you don't want one? Could make a nice gift for a lady."

"Perhaps later. It might make a nice gift, as you say." Dekaras nodded to the forger before he departed. _That's true. I did promise to bring something home, didn't I? Not just yet though. I'm not about to drag a huge painting of a woman with a queasy smile about with me everywhere. Not even for her sake._ He carefully placed the forged papers into a pocket. Everything was in order. Soon, very soon, it would be time to set the first stage of the plan in motion. 

The assassin smiled slightly to himself, his black eyes glittering with anticipation as he went over the details of his plan once again. The bandits had been an entertaining enough challenge, but this…this was the real thing. Intrigue, subterfuge, infiltration…he was very much looking forward to it, dangerous as it would undoubtedly be. _Sarevok will never know what hit him. Or, in this case, who hit him._


	33. Sugar And Spice

**In The Cards 33 - Sugar And Spice**

_It has taken me some time, but I think I've finally learnt to ignore the opinions of those who don't matter and treasure the opinions of those who do matter. Not easy, but it does save you some heartache._

_Excerpt from 'Ruminations Of A Master Bard'_

"Edwin? What is this, exactly?" Imoen asked as she watched the contents of her plate. It had been the Red Wizard's turn to do the cooking that evening, and the results were interesting to say the least. It looked more or less like some form of stew, which was traditional adventurer's fare. There was meat and vegetables, nothing odd about that. Even the vivid red color might have been overlooked. And it certainly smelled tasty. It was just that the fumes made your eyes water if you leaned too close over the cauldron, and that a fly that had happened to fly across it had died instantly and dropped into the food where it immediately dissolved. Edwin insisted that the insect was bound to be nutritious and that it was illogical to be bothered by it, but Imoen couldn't quite overlook the implications. 

"Thayvian cuisine", Edwin explained. "Or as close to it as you get in these barbaric hinterlands. It's not perfect, but it's as close to perfection as it's possible to come with these limited resources."

"So", Zaerini said, "instead of boring old rabbit stew we get Thayvian rabbit stew? What's the difference?" The bard was sitting in the soft grass, her legs crossed, golden eyes glittering in the twilight as she gave the wizard an amused look that also held a sort of unspoken challenge and invitation. _It's amazing that he doesn't see it_ , Imoen thought. _But then she doesn't see the way he looks at her either, does she? As if she were…I don't know…some sort of wonderful and magical secret that he's trying to figure out but can't quite wrap his head around. It's really very romantic. I wonder if I should tell Rini? But I don't know if I ought to interfere. Suppose I ruined everything? Still, I wish they'd do something about it soon._

"The difference", Edwin went on, "is the spices. I realize that this is probably an alien concept to you Westerners, but in Thay we prefer for our food to actually taste something. I am, of course, extraordinarily skilled at preparing succulent treats to gently tease the tastebuds."

"Of course you are." The bard grinned. "Well, I've always loved spicy food. I place myself at your mercy, oh Chef of Chefs." 

"A wise decision, and one you will never regret. (I just wish this could have been a private dining room, so we didn't have to watch all these monkeys chew.)"

Zaerini accepted a plate of stew and gingerly tasted it. Then her face lit up with a wide smile. "Hey, this is good!" she said. "Really, really good. Just the way I like it."

"In that case", Jaheira said, "I believe I will have some as well. Khalid?"

"Y-yes", Khalid agreed. "I s-suppose so." Imoen thought about warning them. She knew what they didn't, after all. Her best friend's taste for spices wasn't exactly orthodox. _Nah. I'm sure they can handle it. And the river's not that far off._

"What about me?" Coran asked. The archer had been a bit more subdued until his warts wore off, but now he was coming back in full force. "Don't I get any, or are you afraid I'll put you to shame?" He directed a smoldering look at Zaerini. "As I certainly will. Lovely one, you should know by now that my skills and strengths are unsurpassable - in every field this human can think of with his crooked mind. I would be happy to demonstrate just that, any time you wish…" 

"Afraid?" Edwin said with a malicious smile. "Hardly, but perhaps you ought to be. I would venture to guess that you lack both the legendary stamina and…ardor…of Thayvian males, so I would strongly advice you against attempting to taste what you are unworthy to touch, or even to dream about. (I, on the other hand, like nothing better than playing with fire.)"

"I can match you in any twisted game you device, _Istar!_ Give it here!" 

"Certainly", Edwin said and handed the elf a plate. "Just a…friendly word of caution." 

"You're friend to nothing and nobody, dark one. But I am born of the eldest race, and I'll answer any challenge you come up with - in blood, if need be." Coran scooped up a large spoonful of steaming stew, put it in his mouth and swallowed. There were approximately three seconds of stunned silence. Then the elf's face turned a vivid scarlet bright enough to match Edwin's robes, sweat started pouring forth from his face and Imoen could swear she saw his hair curling at the tips. "YAAAARRRRGH!" Coran screamed. "You foul…evil…oooh, it burns…I'll get you for this, _Utinu en lokirim_!" He rushed off, still screaming and swearing in the direction of the river. Jaheira and Khalid very deliberately set their plates aside.

"I will go after him and make sure he does not drown", Jaheira said. She gave Edwin a reproachful look. "Was that really necessary?" 

"What?" the wizard asked innocently. "I warned him, didn't I?" He turned to scream after the retreating back of Coran. "I did warn you, _amada! Lasta lalaithamin_!" He laughed quietly to himself as the two Harpers went after the elf.

"You speak elvish?" Zaerini asked, sounding incredulous. 

"Some", Edwin nonchalantly explained. "I have received a thorough education, you know. I know the most important phrases of all the great languages."

"Such as common insults?" the bard asked with a wide grin.

"Well…yes. Orcish is much better than elvish for swearing, mind you. Troll is even better. (True, those words and phrases weren't exactly part of the curriculum but looking up good insults is what dictionaries are for, after all.)"

Imoen giggled. "So, what did you say to each other?"

"After he referred to me as 'son of snakes' I called him a fool. Which he is. Oh, and I told him to 'hear my laughter'. I would have gone on, but I suppose I'll have to save the better parts for later." 

"Just don't kill him", Zaerini said with a small sigh. "I wouldn't like that." She rose from her sitting position. "Well, I liked the food anyway, even if poor Coran didn't. Think I'll just go for a short walk around the camp before I go to sleep." She raised her hand in farewell and then moved off into the shadows, Softpaws close on her heels. Edwin watched her as she walked off, a peculiar mixture of longing and frustration in his eyes. 

"Maybe you should go after her?" Imoen suggested. 

Edwin started. He had obviously forgotten she was even present. "Wh-what?" he said. "I…I have no idea what you're talking about. None. None whatsoever." 

"Sure you do." Imoen reached up to pat the much taller wizard on the shoulder. "Aw, don't worry too much. It'll work out, I'm sure. She's not really in love with Coran or anything. I can tell."

"I…I don't care!" Edwin sputtered. "Of course I don't. Not at all. Not the slightest bit interested, one way or the other, and you're a complete and utter brainless ninny for even suggesting it." He paused, and when next he spoke, he sounded more than a little desperate. "Er…you're sure?"

"Sure I'm sure! She's my sister, you know. I can tell." Imoen thought of something. "Say, what was it you poured onto his plate anyway?"

"What? I didn't…"

"'Course you did! I saw you, even if nobody else did." Imoen grinned proudly. "I'm a rogue after all. I'm supposed to spot these things. What was it? Extra pepper?"

Edwin sighed. "Yes, you annoyingly perceptive little brat", he said. "Thayvian Red Pepper. His lying, honeyed tongue ought to be peeling properly by now, though I'm still surprised you spotted me. (This is getting worrying. She's becoming too good at this. I think she's been spending too much time with…certain people.)" 

"Good for you", Imoen said approvingly. "Coran's fun in his own way, but I don't trust him to treat Rini right. He's more the 'fun in the night, gone in the morning' type, isn't he?" She was satisfied to see the wizard blush deeply. "Go on. Go and talk to her. Before Coran gets the same idea." 

Edwin's eyes widened and he hurried off into the woods, muttering something about 'stretching his legs.' 

_That ought to help some_ , Imoen thought to herself. _Now, if only somebody would do the same for me…_ She smiled to herself and settled into a happy daydream, featuring herself and a certain other rogue. The kissing parts were very satisfactory, and it got even better after that. _Oooh! Once he's mine I don't know how I'll bring myself to even let him out of the door for a second. Hm. Wonder what he'd look like in, say, a nifty suit with lace on?_ She adjusted the mental picture accordingly. _Wow! Just as hot. But perhaps even more interesting…how would he look without it?_ Another adjustment, and Imoen squealed with delight, fanning herself with her hand to keep down the rising heat in her cheeks. _Just as I thought. Perfect. I mean, just look at that body! Keeping that covered up is a crime all by itself…_

Zaerini had found herself a nice and quiet spot by a large oak tree. She was currently sitting on the ground, thinking things over. Coran's flattery had been entertaining at first, but now she was growing weary of it. She hoped they'd come across some wyverns soon, so she'd be rid of him. _Besides, if he sticks around much longer Eddie will most likely kill him_. She shook her head. She'd seen the wizard annoyed before, certainly, but this new animosity seemed particularly strong. 

_Look at that, kitten_ , Softpaws said. _We've got company._

The bard turned around, a welcoming smile on her face that faltered a little when she saw who it was. "Oh", she said. "Hello, Coran. Feeling better?"

"Much", the elf said, "thanks to Jaheira's assistance." He sat down next to her, just a little bit too close, and gave her a charming smile. "That black-hearted villain of a wizard may have tried his best to silence me, but the words of a true romantic will always out." He surreptitiously raised his arm and tried to sneak it around the bard's waist. Then he faltered as he noticed Softpaws. The familiar was sitting on the half-elf's shoulder, staring coldly at him with unblinking green eyes. She silently raised a paw in the direction of Coran's eyes and slid out a set of needle-like claws. Coran froze in mid-motion before carefully retracting his hand, very, very slowly. "Yes", the elf hastily carried on. "Much, much better. So much better in fact, that I thought perhaps I could give you a few lessons."

"Lessons?"

"Certainly." The smile was back in full force. "You mentioned before wanting to learn more of the elves?" Coran pointed dramatically at himself. "Well, here I am, in the flesh. Feel free to explore me in any way you like. I am at your full disposal, _Mela en’ coiamin._ "

"And that means?"

" _Mela en’ coiamin_?" The elf looked immensely satisfied. "Why, that is a most useful Elvish phrase. It means 'love of my life.'" 

_That was rather sudden, wasn't it?_ Rini thought. She was starting to get vaguely uneasy. "Love of your life?" she asked. "And how many others have you said that to?"

Coran looked a little rattled for a second, but then the smile slid smoothly back into place. "What does it matter?" he said. "I may have thought myself in love before, but I now know it was but a pale reflection of the truth I see as I gaze into your burning eyes, and rejoice at the sight of your lovely form. _Vanimle sila tiri._ Your beauty shines bright. Bright enough to blind this poor elf." He moved a little closer, close enough that their hips touched, and raised his hand again. 

_I'll see about blinding you if you don't keep your grubby paws to yourself_ Softpaws hissed, and it seemed Coran could pick up on the general meaning for he hastily snatched his fingers back. _Kitten, you should warn him off. He is not to be trusted._

_That's what Edwin said as well_ , Rini thought. She quickly compared the two men in her mind. _And Edwin would never say things like that if he didn't mean it_. "Very sugary words, Coran", she said with a small frown. "But I should probably tell you right now that I don't want empty flattery. Don't tell me things like that if you don't mean exactly what you say." 

"Ah, you wound me, my lovely lady! Very well. If lessons in the language of the elves will not satisfy you, then perhaps an introduction to another part of our culture will?"

"Such as?"

Coran licked his lips seductively. "The art of lovemaking, oh lusty one. The elves are an ancient folk, and I have forgotten more about giving and receiving pleasure than any mere human could ever hope to learn. Allow me to demonstrate…"

"No!" the half-elf exclaimed. "I'm not interested. Coran, you'd better get out of here right now. This isn't funny anymore." 

"Oh, come now. It has been a pleasant hunt, but now the hunt is at an end, and it is time for the prey to yield…and there is an itching in my pants that only you can satisfy." Coran leaned in closer, breathing rather heavily by now. And then he suddenly found himself flat on his back, his jaw feeling as if it had been split in two. Zaerini stood over him, rubbing her aching knuckles, her golden eyes blazing furiously beneath her mane of red hair. 

"That does it", the bard growled. "I told you politely to cut it out. Now I want you to leave. Oh, and one more thing. I'm not 'prey'. So just take a hike and try your stupid lines on somebody who's impressed. You're just not what I'm looking for in a mate." 

_Excellent, kitten_ , Softpaws purred. _Send him packing._

Coran slowly got to his feet, red in the face and looking extremely angry and humiliated. "You…you little fiend!" he spat. "A dalliance with me would have been an honor beyond your wildest dreams, and you reject me?" A spiteful note crept into his voice. "For make no mistake, a dalliance is all it could ever be. No true elf would ever take up permanently with a…mere half-breed." 

She had half expected him to say it, but still it hurt. That word, that hated word stabbed into the very core of her soul like a poisoned blade. Rini stood motionless, drinking in the hatred in the elf's eyes, feeling her own slowly fill with tears. She hated herself for crying, but she couldn't help it, and that made her hate herself even more. It hurt all the more because of the affection he had professed to feel only moments before, hurt because she had truly wanted to trust him. 

Coran sneered at her, triumphant as the sight of the pain he had caused washed away some of his own humiliation. And then he suddenly froze, his mouth still open to speak, his wide open, but immobile like a statue. "In that case", Edwin said as he stepped out behind a tree, "you aren't even worthy of licking the ground she walks on, excrement-brain." The wizard's dark face was a mask of fury, and he actually trembled with rage as he approached the magically held elf. "And I'll make personally sure you pay for making her cry…in blood." He pushed the immobile Coran until he fell over and then spat in his motionless face. "A pint per tear ought to be about right. Now don't go anywhere until I have the time to deal with you properly." 

"I…" Zaerini said, and then words failed her. She closed her eyes as her legs folded beneath her, slumping to ground as she began to cry in earnest, unable to stop. And then she felt an arm around her shoulder, and a much more welcome one than Coran's at that. She sobbed quietly into the wizard's chest as he held her close, his face buried in her hair, whispering something in what she supposed must be his own language. It felt…good. Right, somehow. _Like…coming home. And…I don't care about belonging to either elves or humans anymore. I've had enough of that. From now on, I'll settle for belonging with those who…who really care about me, and don't just pretend to. I've had enough of sugar and pretty falsehoods. Give me spice any day_.

"Are you feeling better?" Edwin asked after a while. He sounded very worried, and apparently noticed that himself for he hastily amended himself. "That is…I would not wish to see the leader of our group incapacitated for an extended period of time. That could cause all sorts of problems. Suppose Jaheira got it into her head to lead? She'd be so obsessed about keeping 'the Balance' that we'd never get anywhere."

"I'm much better", Rini said, managing a smile. "Thank you." She gave the still immobile Coran a contemptuous glance. "I'm not about to let him or his opinions bother me any longer. He's not worth it."

"Shall I kill him for you?" Edwin asked. "It would be my pleasure." His voice was very eager and Zaerini didn't doubt that he meant exactly what he said. 

The bard walked over to stare into the face of the motionless elf. Was that a glimmer of fear in his eyes? "No", she said. "No. Tempting as it is, I have a better idea." 

When Coran came out of the spell, he was still immobile, tied firmly to a tree in the middle of the forest. Moreover, he also found himself liberally coated with something sweet-smelling and very sticky, particularly concentrated to the groin area. The bard and the wizard were standing in front of him, both looking very pleased. It wasn't a reassuring sight. "What…" Coran croaked. 

"Wakey, wakey!" Zaerini said, giving the elf a wicked grin. "You don't want to miss this."

"What…"

"Oh, you mean what is it that's smeared all over you?" Edwin said. "It's wild honey. You know, the sweet, sticky stuff that bees make. (Really, I thought elves were supposed to know about wildlife things. I suppose we'll just have to educate him.)" This last was added in an innocently helpful voice.

"Honey? But…"

"Oh yes", the bard said. "Honey. And now, please take a look at your feet." Coran did. The ground was black. Black and…moving? "Ants!" he screamed. "Oh no, please don't! Not ANTS!" The ants were already marching up his legs, millions of them swarming over his body, and particularly into his pants. 

"Very good", Edwin said with a condescending sneer. "So, you do know something about the local fauna after all. Ten points for making an effort." 

"Why, Coran!" Zaerini said, her golden eyes glittering with amusement. "I just thought I'd oblige you and satisfy that 'itching in your pants' that you mentioned." She pursed her lips as if deep in thought. "This was what you meant, wasn't it? True, at first it may cause a worse itch, but once it starts to get really painful, I'm sure you'll forget all about that."

"But…but…ANTS!"

"You'd better hope they eat quickly too", Edwin said. "After all, there are bears in the forest as well. Bears do love honey - and I'm sure they wouldn't be all that particular about what they happened to bite off in order to get to it. (Not that it would be a great loss, I'm sure.)"

"Bye now, Coran", Zaerini said, waving. "Have fun. Maybe you’ll get loose on your own, being such an amazing rogue. Maybe some 'pure' elf will stop by and rescue you. You never know." 

"And now", Edwin added, "a parting phrase in Elvish, just to be polite. _Llie n'vanima ar' lle atara lanneina_. That's about the most useful words to know in any language."

"What does it mean?" Zaerini asked, pushing her bright red hair out of her eyes.

The wizard shrugged. "It means 'you're ugly and your momma dresses you funny'. A pretty good summary of that useless waste of space over there, I would say." He bowed briefly to the bard. "Shall we?"

Coran stared after them as they disappeared into the forest, their laughter intermingling until it sounded almost like a single voice. They never looked back. Not once. 

-*-

There was a house in the heart of the Cloakwood Forest. This might not have been so strange, if it hadn't been for the shape of it. A magnificent tree stood there, its branches seemingly scraping the sky, the trunk too wide for a score of men to encircle with their arms. And in the middle of that tree-trunk there was a door. A smooth, unpainted door, almost invisible against the rest of the tree. It was as if it hadn't so much been placed there, as grown out of the tree itself. 

"So, who do you suppose lives in a place like that?" Zaerini asked her friends. "I can imagine a few reasonable alternatives myself."

"Such as?" Edwin asked. 

"Well…it could be a wicked old man-eating hag." 

"No, no", Imoen protested. "Those are supposed to live in gingerbread houses. Not in trees." 

"Oh. I suppose so. How about a friendly old Grandma?" 

"Inside a tree?" Jaheira said, sounding incredulous. "And whose Grandmother are we talking about anyway?"

"I…I'm not sure", Rini admitted. "Actually, I'm not sure why I said that in the first place. It just…kind of made sense. I don't know why." 

"It is because of the power that surrounds this holy place", as strange voice said from behind her. "The power of the wild woods." The half-elf turned around to see a strange woman standing some distance into the trees, watching the adventurers coolly. As she slowly approached Zaerini took in her disheveled brown hair, with twigs and mud clinging to it, the impassive face dominated by a pair of cold gray eyes, and the clothes, gray and brown leather cunningly sewn together to resemble leaves. "I am Faldorn", the woman said. "A protector of this forest, and a member of the True Druids."

Before the bard could respond Jaheira stepped forward, eyes blazing and a hand on the hilt of her scimitar. "Shadowdruid", she growled, never taking her eyes off Faldorn. "So, your destructive ways have spread this far." 

Faldorn smiled, but there was no warmth to that smile. "Our way is the True Way, weakling", she said. "It is you who would destroy the holy groves and wildernesses of the world, by letting so called 'civilization' spread, like parasites devouring an ancient tree." 

"Unlike you, who would needlessly slaughter all mankind, wanting to frighten them away from the woods rather than teaching them to cherish them." 

Faldorn shrugged. "At the moment, it matters not what you or I will. You have come here, unto the home of the Archdruid, and rather than having you all slain for your trespassing he has decided to be merciful - for now. He wishes to speak with you, and he has sent me to tell you so."

"And i-if we r-r-refuse?" Khalid said, his voice uncharacteristically firm. "What th-then, Shadowdruid?"

"Then, you will all die, for the very ground and the trees will rise up against you at the Archdruid's command. It is your choice." Faldorn sounded utterly convinced that she was speaking the truth. 

"Very well", Rini said. "We will come and see this 'Archdruid' of yours." There was no way of knowing whether Faldorn was lying or not, but she could tell that this was no ordinary place. If she were to fight a druidic sect in the heart of their own power she would prefer to do so when not taken by surprise. 

Faldorn simply nodded and led the way to the great tree, pressing her palm against the door when she reached it. It swung open without a sound, and the Shadowdruid led the adventurers inside. 

The inside of the tree seemed somehow even larger than the outside. There were no windows, but a pleasant green light emanated from the walls. Passing through a first room holding only a few austere pieces of furniture, Faldorn guided the adventurers up a narrow flight of stairs winding itself up inside the tree-trunk. They came out into a second room, a bedchamber by the looks of it. The man who was turned from one of the bookcases to greet them looked extremely odd, Zaerini thought, even for somebody living inside a giant tree. His manner of dress was similar to Faldorn's, green and brown leathers decorated with patterns resembling leaves and vines. He was of indeterminate age, his tangled salt-and-pepper beard and hair making it difficult to tell, and he was very, very dirty. Mud and twigs were stuck in his hair, clothes and beards, and Rini even thought she could spot a dead beetle somewhere in there. The reek that surrounded him was such that it made it difficult to breathe.

_I wonder why religious fanatics so often seem to be opposed to the concept of soap and water_ she thought. _Maybe they think there's something particularly holy about dirt._

"So, you have come", he said in a voice that reminded the bard of the creaking of a very old door. _Probably spent so much time rolling in the mud that he's forgotten how to talk._ "Who dares presume to trespass upon nature's territory whilst A Shadow Archdruid looks on? Who could be so hungry for death? More of that softhearted fool Seniyad's weakling pawns no doubt! How he can be one of the three with his pacifist attitudes is beyond logic!"

_Seniyad?_ Zaerini thought. _That was the one who wanted to slaughter Aldeth for hunting a little game in the forest, wasn't it? And if he's a softhearted fool, then I really don't think I'm going to like this guy_. 

"Pardon my ignorance", she said, determined to buy some time. "Just what is an Archdruid?"

The man's face tightened in a fierce scowl. Or at least she thought it did. Underneath all that hair it was hard to tell for sure. "Ignorance is never to be pardoned!", he snapped. "Lessons hard learnt are the ones best remembered. I shall enlighten you, and then pose my question again. I am an Archdruid of the Shadow Druids, one of the few with my level of experience, and it is our duty to purge nature of outsiders. Druidic orders that think people can exist alongside nature are doomed to fail. I and my devoted followers shall restore nature to its former glory the only way possible: active aggression! So again, I put it to you: who are you to dare trespass in nature's territory? Decadent city-dwellers, no doubt."

"Tell me something", Edwin said in an urbane voice that instantly set off warning-bells inside Rini's head. "In this commendable urge to 'purge nature', did perhaps you and your devoted followers forget to purge yourselves? You do look as if you could use it. Here's a small tip for you. B-A-T-H. Just a little something us decadent city-dwellers invented millennia ago in order not to make the eyes of others water from our body-odor. You might want to look into it. Who knows, after a thorough washing you may even start looking human. (Though I sincerely doubt it. More likely he's dirt through and through and will simply dissolve altogether.)"

"Impertinence!" Faldorn sputtered. "We are Shadowdruids. We live like animals, wild and free. Animals do not wash!"

_Really?_ Softpaws waspishly commented. _Shows how much you really know about animals, Stinky._

"You dare insult me while we stand on holy ground?" the Archdruid intoned in a dangerous voice. 

"Stand?" Rini said. "Looks more like you smeared your 'holy ground' all over yourself. What's the matter? Trying to cover an embarrassing rash you got from dallying with a rabid bear?" Then she gave Faldorn an apologetic glance. "Oops. Sorry. Didn't mean to let the others know about your little secret." She had decided that the situation was probably unsalvageable anyway. She might as well tell the two Shadowdruids exactly what she thought of them. 

"As bluntly as the children put it", Jaheira said, "they are quite right. You are abominations, thinking to own nature rather than to guard it. Nature is the birthright of all, not just those called to become druids! And you are mistaken. I do not think people need to exist alongside nature. People are part of nature, and the role of the druid is to help make them remember that." 

"Then die", the Archdruid snarled, "and may your corpses feed the Great Trees." He immediately started chanting a spell, Faldorn following his example. Rini wasted no time, quickly intoning the words to summon Magic Missiles. There was a curious ringing in her ears, but she ignored it, thinking only of the battle ahead. The spell formed inside her mind, it launched - but something was wrong. Her entire body was tingling, and rather than the glowing balls of energy she had been expecting she felt something cold and wet against her face. _Snow?!_ she thought. _Inside a tree?!_

And snow it was, a veritable snowstorm suddenly raging inside the closed space of the room, half blinding the combatants, whipping against their faces. Something had taken her spell and twisted it all up. "Edwin, don't!" the bard screamed as she suddenly recalled seeing the wizard starting a spell of his own. But it was too late. Edwin finished his spell, and as he did he was suddenly enveloped by a cloud of bright red smoke. When it cleared the wizard was nowhere to be seen. A dark gray wolf stood there in his stead, looking extremely puzzled about what had happened. _A Wild Magic field_ , Rini realized. _And it seems to only affect arcane magic, not priestly. We are in such trouble now…Gods, I hope Eddie is all right!_

Meanwhile the Archdruid finished his spell, a blade of roaring flames leaping into his hands. Faldorn's skin took on a brown tinge and became as hard as the bark of an old tree. Abandoning all thoughts of further spellcasting Zaerini started firing arrows at the two druids in hopes of interrupting their spells, and Imoen did the same. It was hard to aim in the still ongoing snowstorm though. Khalid drew his sword, and as it met the flaming blade of the Archdruid sparks flew high and sizzled in the whirling snow. Jaheira finished a spell of her own, and suddenly she seemed to grow in stature, her eyes taking on a cold glow. As she turned on Faldorn the Shadowdruid shied back in fear, but the effect was only temporary. Spinning around Faldorn twisted away from Jaheira, and in a swirl of flashing light she shifted form, fur erupting from her skin, jaws elongating into a muzzle until she had fully changed into a growling brown wolf. 

Jaheira's mouth set in a grim line as she watched the approaching animal. Raising her hands again she began another spell, but Rini had no time to watch her further, being forced to concentrate on the Archdruid. Khalid was hard pressed. The druid was no great swordsman by any means, but his flaming sword forced the half-elven warrior to take extra care and kept him at a distance. At least it had stopped snowing by now.

Edwin, meanwhile, had got over the worst shock of suddenly finding himself transformed into a lupine form, and since he was currently unable to use magic he had apparently decided to let the instincts of the wolf body take over. He leapt without making a sound, burying sharp fangs in the meaty flesh of the Archdruid's thigh, sending hot blood spurting all over the room as the druid screamed with pain. The transformed wizard hung on for dear life, his paws sliding across the smooth floor as his victim tried to kick and beat him off. And then there was a gray blur in the air and the druid's screams of pain and anger ended in a choked gurgle as his throat was violently ripped open.

_Faldorn?!_ Zaerini confusedly thought at the sight of this second wolf. But no…this wolf was gray, not brown. The female wolf shook the dead body a final time, then licked her muzzle clean. Despite her ferocious appearance her green eyes were clear and focused. "Jaheira?!" the bard exclaimed, hardly believing her eyes. The wolf shimmered briefly and Jaheira assumed her normal form, wiping her face clean with her sleeve. Rini turned her head to see Faldorn, still in wolf shape, break free of the holding spell that had immobilized her and run off down the stairs, her tail firmly tucked between her legs. 

"Oh no", Imoen said. "She's getting away!"

"Pfeh", the druid snorted. "That one is just a low wolf. She's not worth the trouble." 

_Speaking of wolves, where's…_ "Edwin!" Rini shouted and threw herself at the wolf that was unsteadily getting to his feet again, scrambling out from beneath the Archdruid's corpse, hastily running her hands through the thick fur to check for injuries. Most of the blood seemed to be the druid's fortunately enough. The wolf stood motionless, allowing her to fuss over him without seeming to mind in the slightest. In fact, she thought she could see his tail wag slowly. So intent was the half-elf on her ministrations that she barely noticed the sound of quiet chanting behind her, or the white glow that filled the air. She did notice that she was suddenly standing very close to a very human wizard however. Very, very close. And with her arms…wrapped around him…very tightly indeed… 

"Ooops!" Zaerini blurted out, feeling her cheeks burn as hot as the Archdruid's now extinguished sword had done as she took a step backwards. "Sorry! I…I didn't mean…"

"No, no, that is quite all r-right", Edwin stammered, looking almost as embarrassed as she felt. "In fact, I actually…er…that is…I quite appreciate your concern, misguided as it is. I could have handled him on my own, you know. (Yes…very….very pleasant indeed. Now if only there wasn't a huge audience of goggling monkeys to witness this.)"

"Are you sure you're not hurt?" 

_Perhaps you want to give him a more thorough examination?_ Softpaws innocently asked. _I'm sure he'd oblige._

_Softy, stop it. He could have been seriously harmed. Even…even killed._

_So pet him a little more. You both certainly seemed to enjoy it._

_SOFTY!_

"I am fine", Edwin said, and then made a face. "Well, for the most part." He turned to Jaheira. "I'm surprised you aren't on the floor puking your guts out. I know I certainly feel like it."

"What?" Rini asked. "Being a wolf was that bad?"

"No, no. Not in itself." The wizard shuddered with disgust. "But I bit him, didn't I? Would you believe it, he tasted even worse than he smelled?"

_Later that same day…_

"Gentlemen, gentlewomen - may I introduce myself? I am Eldoth Kron."

Zaerini gave the stranger in front of her a careful look. He was a little older than herself she guessed, dark of hair and beard, and dressed in clothes that looked like they had once been very expensive but now were stained and torn here and there. Most interestingly he was carrying a lute-case slung across his back. _A bard, is it? Let's hope he's not as stupid as that Garrick fellow. Not that he looks very trustworthy, but we'll see. I'm really exhausted after fighting those druids, I don't want to get into a fight right now._ She introduced herself and her companions in turn. "So, what makes you wander the Cloakwood all by yourself, Eldoth?" she asked. "Aren't you afraid you'll be surprised and ambushed by monsters?" 

The other bard simply smirked. "Such a thing sounds awfully tedious, don't you agree?" he said. "Potions of invisibility will help take care of that kind of little details, for those occasions when I don't have the time to vanquish what great foes fate may throw at me." 

"Which great foes would those be?" Edwin murmured. "Your pimples? Or perhaps whichever fiend it was that persuaded you to drench yourself in hair oil. In case you hadn't noticed, it's leaving a trail of grease all over your collar. (Not that a little grease it makes much difference in his case. It's a bit like throwing a bucket of water into the ocean.)" 

"Look", Rini hastily said, hoping to forestall another fight. "Why don't we just skip past the smalltalk, Eldoth? What is it that you want of us?" 

"Certainly", Eldoth said with a sharp glance at Edwin. "I can tell you are in a hurry." He smiled. "And may I say how pleasant it is to meet such beautiful people wandering these woods? I never would have thought it possible." He glared at Edwin again. "Well, when I say beautiful, I mean those of you not possessed with the manners of an ogre with a severe tummy-ache." Then he shrugged. "What I want? To crassly sum things up, I have a business proposition for you, and a very profitable one at that. You see, there's a girl, my lover in fact, who desires to escape her father and live on her own. Her father is Entar Silvershield, one of the Dukes of Baldur's Gate. This, of course, makes her desires more difficult than those of the average city girl." He smirked again. "Not that her desires aren't worth it. Anyway, with your assistance we could help her escape the tyrannical clutches of Entar. Here's the punch line: since Entar's going to be hunting us anyway we can blackmail him for hordes of cash and not worry about our captive escaping. After all, we're doing it all for the sake of Skie."

_What an utter, utter slimeball_ , Rini thought. _Poor Skie, whoever she is. I bet she has no idea of this plot to blackmail her father. She probably thinks he really loves her too, poor girl._

_So you're going to refuse him_ , Softpaws said. The cat was watching Eldoth intently, her back slightly arched. Her mental voice carried a definite hiss with it. 

_I should. This guy is a total creep, and he'll likely ruin that girl's life._

_But?_

_But if I refuse him, he'll just find somebody else to do it for him. No, I think I'll play along for now. And who knows, then I may just be able to teach him a lesson or two…_

"I really don't have the time for such an endeavor at the moment", the redheaded bard explained, making herself sound as jaded and bored as Eldoth. "I'm on a mission of my own right now. Perhaps later."

"What?" Jaheira sputtered. "Child, you cannot possibly mean…"

"I mean what I say, Jaheira", Rini firmly declared, staring into the other woman's eyes. "I know what I'm doing. Trust me, why don't you? Remember how we spoke about trust before?" 

After a few moments the druid looked away. "Very well", she reluctantly said. "It is your decision. I just hope you will not regret it."

"Would you like me to accompany you?" Eldoth asked. "Or shall we meet up later, in Baldur's Gate? I can wait for some time longer."

"Baldur's Gate", Rini said at once. "I accept the assignment, and we will meet with you there once our own business is concluded."

"And I shall be looking forward to another encounter with such a charming young lady", Eldoth said, bowing. "You will be able to reach me at the Three Old Kegs Inn. Until then, fair wanderers." He walked off in a northerly direction, looking very pleased with himself. 

"What do you really intend to do with him?" Edwin asked. 

"You'll see", Zaerini said. "You'll see." She yawned. "And now I think we ought to see about making camp. That Eldoth fellow was rather dull, he made me really sleepy." 

Before going to sleep that night Zaerini decided that it would be a good idea to do another reading of her Chaltar Cards. It had been a while, and now that she was approaching the Cloakwood Mines she felt it would be a good time to do so. Conjuring a magelight to help augment the light from the camp fire she rapidly shuffled the deck, then spread out the selected cards. _Show me what is to come_ , she thought before turning them over. _The near future, the far future, whatever events may affect me._

The cards were placed in groups, she noticed. First the Priest Of Clubs, next to the Prisoner. Right next to them lay one of the Element Cards. Water. 

In the next group she saw the Wizard of Swords, opposing the Rogue. Close by the Knight of Swords. 

The Knight of Swords also was connected to the next group. Death, and then the Tower, crumbling to bits as armed warriors fell from its dark battlements. Falling…falling… And then the bard felt her vision blacken and swirl as the cards reared up towards her, filling her mind and her soul. 

There was a deep black void all around, except for the gray and dead ground beneath her feet. Zaerini looked about herself, finding herself eye to eye with two solemn figures. The Priest of Clubs was muscular and armed with a large hammer, an imposing beard streaming down his broad his chest as he calmly watched her. Next to him the Prisoner hunched, an emaciated figure wearing rags, shackled with heavy irons, eyes desperate and dark. 

"Hail, Child of Bhaal", the Priest spoke. 

"Hail, Bringer of Freedom", said the Prisoner. 

"Who are you?" the bard asked. She didn't think these two posed a threat, but during this reading she intended to find out as much as she could. No more waiting for the cards to reveal what they would, this time she would have proper answers. 

"We are two, yet one", the Priest said.

"One of us was", said the Prisoner, holding out his arms to show her the chains that fettered him. "Now the other one is. Your actions will determine which one will be in the future." 

"They will?" Rini asked. "I will? Do you mean I'm supposed to free you? Free you from where?"

"From the chains of greed and friendship betrayed", the Prisoner said, his eyes filled with wrath and sorrow. "Beware the one who would forge such chains. Beware him, for he means you grave harm." 

_Well, that was really helpful_. "Who means me harm? Do you mean Sarevok?" 

The two figures both shook their heads, their movements exactly mimicking each other. "The Knight of Swords would merely slay your body", the Prisoner said. "There are worse fates."

"That's easy for you to say. I'd like to keep my body intact if it's all the same to you."

"But the Devil would destroy your very spirit", said the Priest of Clubs. "Beware the Devil, Child of Bhaal. You must not let him succeed, and not only for your own sake. Too much depends on it." 

"If whatever I need to do keeps me alive and sane that's about all the motivation I need. You don't need to tell me that I need to save the world on top of that."

The two figures fell silent.

"What?" Rini asked. "Why aren't you talking to me?"

"You did tell us that you had no need to hear that you must save the world", the Prisoner said in a pointed voice. 

"We have offered our guidance", the Priest said, stroking his beard. "It is up to you to decide whether or not you wish to benefit from it." He raised his hand as if in benediction, and a soft white light spread out from it. When it winked out it took the two beings with it. 

_I have no idea what that last part meant_ , Zaerini thought. _But I bet it wasn't anything I really want to know. Which card was next? Water, wasn't it?_

As if in answer to her question she heard a roaring sound, and a great wave rolled towards her, arching up high above. _Oh, sh…_ Then she was fighting for her life, tossed and flung here and there by the raging water, fighting desperately to hold her breath despite her burning lungs. "This is how they died, so long ago", said a disembodied voice that she recognized as that of the Priest of Clubs. "If you would save lives, then this is how others must die as well. This you must know, Child of Bhaal. Those who bring death may also bring life, under the right circumstances. Remember that." 

_I won't be remembering anything if I don't get to breathe soon, you stupid old…_

And then the water subsided as quickly as it had come, and the half-elf once again found herself on dry land, her clothes dry as well. She was not in the place where she had started though. Now she stood in a great hall, cold marble floor stretching out endlessly around her, soft voices whispering in dark corners and behind the rich furniture that dotted the room here and there. In the middle of the room she saw two more figures, facing each other.

The Rogue slipped from shadow to shadow, moving as if in an intricate and graceful dance, almost invisible in the darkness. And yet this being was more clearly visible to her than he had been during previous readings, almost…familiar. Cloaked in deepest shadow as he was, there were moments when she could almost glimpse the face beneath that deep black hood. Almost, but not quite. Still something in the way. 

The Wizard of Swords carried darkness with him in his own way. A gaunt and joyless figure he was, his eyes dark hollows in a pale face. There was something clinging to his breast, the bard noticed. A dark little creature, almost goblin-like. It had an ugly, twisted face, and its sharp fangs were buried deep within the wizard's heart, as the hideous little fiend suckled his very lifeblood. _He…he doesn't know it's there?_ Zaerini thought, incredulous. _Or…or has it been there so long that he has forgotten it?_ The Wizard's hands were crackling with magical energy as he twisted and turned, scanning the shadows. He was obviously trying to spot the Rogue, but it was equally obvious that he didn't know who he was looking for. 

These two were clearly more dangerous than the Priest of Clubs and the Prisoner, and yet the Bard could not turn away. They were playing a deadly game, she could see that much, and she had no idea who would be the winner. She thought about speaking out, but was afraid to do so, afraid of what might happen. There was no need, however. The Rogue suddenly stiffened and turned towards her, and she could feel sharp eyes boring into her even if she couldn't see them. The Wizard turned as well, alerted to her presence by the new tension that had come over his opponent. Now there were two very penetrating looks directed her way, and it wasn't a comfortable sensation at all. 

"Well, well", the Rogue murmured. "It would seem we have an audience. Perhaps we ought to start charging admission if this is to continue. Now tell me girl, is there a particular reason for you to bother me while I'm working, or are you simply doing the Grand Tour? If the former, please be brief. If the latter, please don't expect either of us to give a lecture on divination. We were rather busy; in case you didn't notice." 

"Quite so, my friend", the Wizard agreed. "And it wouldn't surprise me if she has questions to ask, questions that she ought to be perfectly able to solve herself if only she would sit down and concentrate on them for more than a few minutes at a time. But of course, she's going to ask us instead. It's not as if we had anything better to do than to get dragged into a rather exotic form of fortune-telling, against our will at that. I suppose we ought to count ourselves lucky if she doesn't ask us to explain the meaning of Life while we're here. That ought to keep us all busy for a century or so." 

"Hey!" Rini protested. "There's no need to be rude, you know!"

"Rude?" the Rogue said. "Trust me, you've never seen either of us be really rude, and you really don't want to. It can be rather…messy." 

The sarcastic smirk was almost visible by now, a brief flash beneath the black hood, and that voice… "Adahn?!" the bard asked incredulously. "Is that you?"

The Rogue was silent for a moment, and when next he spoke, he sounded more serious. "No. That…is not my name." Hint of a smirk again. "And I'm most certainly not about to tell you my real one, divination or not, so don't even bother asking. I've hidden my secrets from worse than you, you know." 

"Besides", the Wizard of Swords added dryly, "it would spoil the whole vision thing something dreadful. Visions are supposed to be vague. It's the Gods way of tormenting mortals, I think." His voice turned suddenly bitter. "One of them, at least." 

Zaerini tried her best to suppress her annoyance. "All right!" she said. "So, what can the two of you tell me? Without the clever remarks, thanks." 

"You're really taking all the fun out of this", the Rogue remarked. "Oh, very well. Ask your questions, and we will answer you - maybe." The smooth voice was filled with amusement by now. "It all depends on how you put your questions. And don't expect unlimited time either." 

_Gods. I thought only Edwin was capable of deliberately being that irritating_ "Those other two guys I met earlier were much more helpful." 

"Well naturally they were. They were bound to be, being Heroic and all. Whereas me and my friend and colleague here…" The Rogue indicated himself and the Wizard. "…are more ambiguous. Now, are you going to ask your questions or not?"

"Yes, please do", the Wizard agreed. "We really need to get back to what we were doing." 

"All right", Rini said. "What were you doing? It looked like you were trying to kill each other, but now you seem…I don't know…friendly to each other."

The two men gave each other a long and considering look. "We are opponents at this time", the Rogue conceded, now sounding much more serious. "But by circumstance, not by inclination." 

"Indeed", the Wizard agreed. "We…share certain common ground. Yet that which unites us is also that which causes our current conflict." 

"But why? Who are you?"

"We are Guides", the Wizard declared. 

"We are Guardians", the Rogue said with a brief nod. 

"Determined and committed." 

"Prepared to make sacrifices." 

"Willing to die."

"Ready to kill." 

"Me for my charge."

"And me for mine." 

"I…I see", Rini said, not really understanding but unwilling to admit that. "But what does all of this have to do with me?"

"More than you might think", the Wizard said.

"Certainly more than we are going to tell you", added the Rogue. 

"So are you two going to tell me anything I can actually make sense of?" the bard said, hoping she didn't sound like a whining child.

"Two things", the Wizard said. "When you and I meet in the flesh, I am going to ask you to do something for me, though the 'real' me doesn't know that yet of course. If you oblige me, I will be most grateful. Also, one other thing. Remember that everybody acts for a reason, even those you consider your enemies. Understanding is the key to everything. Yet understand you must, in time."

"As for me", the Rogue said, "you will not see me go, though you will certainly see the consequences of my departure. Remember that actions have motives - misguided as they may be. You will need to understand in order to forgive. We both will." 

_That's what they call 'making sense'?_ "Understand what? Who? Why? Can't you be a little more specific?" But they were both gone, and the shadows gave her no answers. 

And now Zaerini heard a deep and chilling laughter behind her, one that she knew all too well. She turned, her blood feeling like ice water in her veins, and saw a huge armored shape rear up above her, sword raised. The Knight of Swords. Sarevok. "And so, it is just you and me, little sister", the warrior taunted. "Did you think I would sit meekly, waiting? Then you were mistaken. I am coming for you. Sooner than you think." 

She ran, unthinking, instinct urging her to get away. Sarevok was close behind her, she was certain of it, but she dared not look back. Then there was something in front of her, a vast tower, dark and terrible, narrow windows staring like blind eyes at the empty sky, portcullis yawning open like a fanged mouth. The Tower. The half-elf darted across the drawbridge, frantically pulling open the heavy doors. They fell shut behind her and she could hear Sarevok's scream of frustration and anger as he failed to open them. The doors…were locked, shutting her in. There had been no other way to survive, and yet she felt herself shivering with fear. And inside the Tower she could sense shadows awakening. Shadows…and something else as well. Something more dangerous. 

"The Tower…" Zaerini whispered to herself as she came back to reality. She had a feeling she knew what that meant. And she really wished that she were wrong.


	34. Eastern Wind

**In The Cards 34 – Eastern Wind**

_My foster father was both wise and powerful, and as a child I believed him omnipotent, nearly a divinity. Being made to realize that death might claim even him hurt more than I had ever thought possible. And being forced to grow up and shoulder unfamiliar responsibilities…that can also be very painful, necessary as it is._

_Excerpt from 'Ruminations Of A Master Bard'_

"Wh-what was th-that?!" Khalid exclaimed. The creature that had flown over the adventurers was large, with a long and barbed tail, and a head that seemed mostly made up of sharp teeth. It was carrying a cow in its claws, as easily as if the poor animal had been a kitten. 

"That", Edwin said, craning his neck backwards, "was a wyvern, unless I'm very much mistaken. Smaller than a dragon, no fore legs, very poisonous. Could probably swallow you whole. Do I need to go on?"

"Coran wanted us to hunt those things?" Imoen said. "He must have been crazy. Rini, you aren't thinking of going after it, are you?"

The bard shook her head, red curl dancing in the chill wind. "That was Coran's idea, not mine. We have more important things to do."

"Quite so", Jaheira said approvingly. "The Cloakwood mines await."

"Pity though", Edwin sighed. "There was supposed to be a reward for wyvern heads."

"Do you want to drag around a huge, smelly old wyvern head with you for several days?" Rini asked him. "You would get to be the one to carry it, you know."

"On second thought, maybe not", the Red Wizard agreed. "On a different subject, how did your Reading go yesterday? You never said."

Zaerini frowned. "I'm not sure", she admitted. "The tricky part is always interpreting what I see." She pulled the wizard slightly aside from the others. "I would like to go over it with you, if you don't mind. You might be able to help me make some sense of it all. Two heads are better than one sometimes."

"Certainly. It is only natural that you should ask. Though I'm not trained in divination, I shall be pleased to place my superior intellect at your disposal."

"That's nice. All right, here's the first." The bard described the first pair of cards, the Priest of Clubs and the Prisoner. "So, what do you think?"

Edwin shrugged. "It's all very vague, isn't it?" he said. "Somebody is imprisoned, and we are likely to encounter a priest at some point. From your description it sounds like it would be beneficial to aid whoever it is, but since we don't know when it will happen, we can only keep our eyes open." He gave the half-elf a serious look. "The other half is much more unsettling, the part about the Devil. Sarevok was bad enough, but obviously he is not the only one who means you harm. And you have no idea who this other one might be?"

"None whatsoever. I don't exactly like it either, but I don't think that there anything I can do other than try to be careful." She went on to describe the Water card. 

"It sounds like some sort of catastrophe", Edwin pondered. "A flood perhaps? Or a shipwreck? Does that make any sense?"

"Not really. Candlekeep lies by the sea, there have been shipwrecks there, but nothing that I can see concerns me. Besides, it sounded more like I was the one meant to bring the water, if you see what I mean. I think you're right though. It did give me the impression of a flood. I'll have to remember that." The half-elf went on to describe the second part of the Reading, the one with the Wizard of Swords and the Rogue. To her surprise Edwin turned quite white in the face and looked like he had seen a ghost. He recovered quickly, but he couldn't keep her from noticing. When he spoke again, he asked her to describe exactly what the two beings had said, word for word, and when she couldn't quite remember everything, he grew very frustrated and agitated.

"But I must know!" he protested. "It is extremely important if I am to understand this. It…it all sounds terribly dangerous. (What's going on? Why wasn't I told? Suppose…no. Mustn't think like that. Must have faith.)"

"Well, I'm sorry, but I can't do better than that! So, what's your opinion?"

Edwin bit his lip and when he answered he did so very slowly. "I…I would advise you to be very careful and do your best to avoid those two, whoever they are. Not that I expect you to listen to me and try to avoid heading into danger. (No more than certain other people, I might add. Why does this all have to happen to me?)"

_What's eating him?_ Rini thought. The wizard looked extremely worried, but he would say nothing more on the subject, so she went on to describe the third and last part of the Reading. "I think I know what it means", she said in a low voice. "Ever hear of Durlag's Tower?"

Edwin nodded, looking a little calmer. "Yes", he said. "And I agree, it sounds like a reasonable interpretation. You expect us to go there, then?"

"So it seems. I don't know when, but the Reading was pretty clear. If I don't go to Durlag's Tower I will die." She gave the wizard a wry grin. "Of course, going to Durlag's Tower is equally likely to kill me, isn't it?"

"It will not", Edwin said, his face set with grim resolution. "I will not let it. I will let no harm come to you. (Not to…either of you. No matter what I have to do to achieve it.)"

"What was that?" Rini said, since she hadn't caught the last part, uttered in an inaudible whisper as it was. 

"Nothing. I…simply stated that under my…contract to serve you I am obliged to do what I can to protect your interests. That was all. Yes. That's all it was."

"Oh. Thank you. I have a feeling I'm going to need all the help I can get. After all, there's still Sarevok to deal with…" The bard suddenly shaded her golden eyes with her hand. "Look! See that? Doesn't it look like a palisade? Over there, on the other side of that river." She smiled widely. "Durlag's Tower will just have to wait a little while longer. It looks like we've come across the Cloakwood Mines."

The entrance to the mines as well as the camp surrounding it was surrounded not only by the river but also by a large palisade with very pointy wooden poles. Climbing over it didn't really seem to be an option. 

"I'm sure I could do it!" Imoen said. "It's a very daring and roguish thing to do, isn't it? Swim the river, climb the palisade, then sneak silently past all the guards and let the rest of you guys in."

"Forget it", Jaheira said. "It is much too dangerous."

"And breaking down the front gate isn't? Come on, I can do it, really, I can. I've become really good at this sort of thing. Tell her Rini!"

"I don't know", the bard said, eyeing the palisade suspiciously. "Won't they see you when you're climbing?"

Imoen grinned. "Not if I'm using a potion of invisibility, they won't. Trust me. I can do this." 

"Well…all right. If you're really sure you can do it. And if it turns out to be too difficult a climb, come right back. I don't want you to get skewered." 

"Sure!" Imoen said. "Won't be long…" She handed her leather armor and boots to Jaheira in order to be able to swim easier and skipped down towards the water, winking out of sight just before stepping into it.

Rini watched the water carefully, keeping track of the little waves that marked her friend's passage until she was certain Imoen was safely across. "Come on then", she said. "We'd better hurry around to the front gate, just in case something goes wrong."

There were two bandits on the narrow wooden bridge leading across the river, both of them easily handled. The adventurers looked at the massive wooden gate in front of them. It was thick, solid and very, very locked. 

"J-just a question", Khalid said. "I-in case Imoen doesn't get the d-door open from inside…how a-are we supposed to get i-inside to help her?"

Zaerini couldn't help but admit that it was a reasonable question. None of them could pick a lock like Imoen could, and none of them were strong enough to bash this monster of a door open. "Well…I'm sure we'll think of something", she said.

"Yes", Edwin said sarcastically. "Maybe we can just call out 'Friends!' and the guards will open the door for us." 

"Maybe we can just use your head to knock the door open. Wood on wood, that ought to work."

_Creeeaaaak…_ The door slowly swung open and Imoen's pink head peaked around it. "Oh, hi there, guys!" she said. "Are you coming in or what?" As they stepped through the door Zaerini spotted a dead bandit lying face down on the ground. "Yours?" she asked her friend. 

Imoen looked a little sad for a moment. "Yeah", she said. "See, I'd filched the keys already, but the door was barred, and he was guarding it and wouldn't go away. Wish I hadn't had to do that." Her face brightened again. "But on the other hand, I got to use this really nifty new move I learnt from Adahn!" She made a quick stab at the air. "See? Works like magic! I don't think he even had time to feel pain." 

"Child", Jaheira said, "you are starting to frighten me." 

"Oh, come on", Rini said. "It's no worse than killing somebody in a swordfight, or frying them with a fireball, or…"

"Or ripping their bellies open and strangling them with their own guts", said a harsh voice. "Which, incidentally, is exactly what we're about to do with you lot." A group of four mercenaries, two warriors and two wizards, stepped out from behind one of the log cabins that lay just inside the palisade. It was one of the warriors who had spoken, a heavyset man with a hard face. "You've crossed our employers, and this is as far as you're going to go my friend. Should've known that lazy bounty hunting rabble wouldn't get the job done. Never settle for second best, I always say!"

_Oh, just great! Even more assassins! Will it never end?_ "You want to know what I always say?", Rini remarked in her most bored voice. "'Always kill the mouthy one', that's what I always say."

The man grinned at her, a gold tooth winking brightly in the sunshine. "HAW! A good saying! I will use your head for a puppet and make it say it over and over while we drink large amounts of mead! Life is pretty good, you know?"

_We'll see who uses whose head for a puppet, jerk_. Zaerini didn't wait for the mercenary to give the order to attack. A brilliantly glowing fireball sped from her outstretched fingers and landed in the middle of the enemy group, followed by one from Edwin. The two enemy mages died screaming, their bodies twisted and charred. Whatever spell scrolls they had been carrying burned as well, sending up puffs of colored smoke and glittering sparks. The two warriors kept coming though, and the leader was fast, much faster than an ordinary man. Before Rini had the time to cast another spell or even draw her sword he was already upon her, and only her quick reflexes saved her from a beheading. As it was, she received a nasty cut across her shoulder and was forced to dive to the ground in order to avoid the follow up strike, bleeding profusely. 

Then Khalid and Jaheira were there, standing over her while the preternaturally quick warrior rained blows down upon them that they only barely managed to block with their shields. Vaguely Rini glimpsed the other one fall out of the corner of her eye, one of Imoen's arrows firmly lodged in his throat. She could hear Edwin chant another spell, his voice rising and falling rhythmically. _Hey, I know that one! That's…_

The world slowed down around her. A bird in the sky seemed to be creeping along like a snail. The trees moved in the wind, slowly, like seaweed in an oceanic forest. And Khalid and Jaheira met the mercenary's attacks, driving him back with a speed that now easily matched and even topped his own. Finally, he fell, still with a very surprised look on his face. 

"That w-was a spell of H-Haste, wasn't i-it?" Zaerini heard Khalid say over Jaheira's annoyed mutterings as the druid examined her wound. "V-very clever."

"Naturally", Edwin impatiently said. He was hovering nervously over Jaheira's shoulder, trying to watch what she was doing. "I am the brain of this group after all. (Well, one of two at least.) Druid, I trust you're not going to botch this. I would be most upset if our leader came out of this in less than perfect condition."

"Go away, Edwin", Jaheira snapped. "You are bothering me. Just let me do my work in peace. Stop fussing." 

"I'm not! I…I just don't want to see our resident Queen needlessly sacrificed because some pawn of a healer blundered. A perfectly natural, objective concern. Yes. Perfectly natural. And objective."

"Edwin, I am warning you…"

"No. I'm staying right here." 

"That does it", Jaheira said. Her smile turned wicked. "I suggest you step aside right this moment. If I am to heal this wound properly and without scarring, I will need to access it fully so I can see what I am doing. Which means that I shall be forced to ask our Fearless Leader to partially undress. I think you can guess which parts."

Edwin's eyes seemed about to pop out of his face and his cheeks turned bright red. "Uuuh…", he said. "I…that is…I m-mean…I…"

"Exactly. Very well put. Khalid, would you please get him out of here?" The half-elven warrior gently led Edwin away by the arm. The wizard still seemed to have problems speaking properly. And breathing, for that matter. 

"Did you really have to get me to strip?" Rini asked once she felt the first healing spell wash over her like warm rain. "The air is rather cold you know."

Jaheira's wink was almost imperceptible. "Perhaps", she said. "Perhaps not. Either way it worked. It got me the necessary peace and quiet at least. She chuckled to herself. "Objective concern indeed."

-*-

Terrible anxiety was eating away at him, gnawing constantly at his heart. Edwin tried his very best to ignore it but found it quite impossible to do so. He walked through the tunnels of the Cloakwood Mines like a man in a trance, his mind divided into two halves. Only one of them was paying attention to his current surroundings, just barely managing to keep him from tripping over his own feet or walking into walls. The other was far away, trying to penetrate rock and stone and fly across the miles that separated it from the city of Baldur’s Gate. This half was even less successful than its twin, if possible. 

The party had entered the mines earlier that day, after liberating the dead mercenary leader who had been guarding the entrance of a very nice pair of enchanted boots. They made their wearer able to outpace a running hare with ease. Khalid was now wearing them; Zaerini had decided that they would best benefit the warrior since they would help him rapidly close with the enemy. Edwin privately suspected that Khalid’s gratitude had more to do with the fact that they would help him run away from the enemy. Not that he really needs any help with that, I think. 

Zaerini had cast a simple divination spell on the boots, and then had explained that they were called ‘the Paws of the Cheetah’. Apparently, they had once belonged to a skilled assassin who was fond of chasing after his prey on foot. “But in the end”, the bard had said, “I guess somebody must have caught up with **him** , or the boots wouldn’t be here in the first place.” 

Edwin shivered and tried to tell himself that it was all due to the chilly air down here in the dark tunnels. He knew perfectly well that he was lying to himself though. Much as he tried to avoid it, his thoughts were incessantly occupied with the current whereabouts of another assassin, as well as with the probably life-threatening hazards facing said person. It did nothing for his peace of mind. _No, I have to stop obsessing over it. It’s…it’s not as if I can do anything to help right now anyway._

But telling himself to be reasonable didn’t work at all. The dreadful worry he had been feeling for his friend and mentor ever since hearing the details of Zaerini’s latest Reading was eating him alive. _What is he doing, pitting himself against some hideously dangerous wizard?_ Then he paused to consider that his teacher was, after all, rather hideously dangerous himself. _Well, maybe so. But still…_

Edwin sighed deeply. _This sort of thing was so much easier to put up with when I was still a child. I hardly ever worried then, I knew that he could handle anything and that everything would be all right. But now…it’s different. True, he probably can handle just about anything but…he’s still mortal, isn’t he? I never used to think about that back then_. He sighed again, gaining himself a curious glance from Imoen who was walking closest to him, and he hardly noticed it. _If…if he should ever die, I don’t know what I’d…NO!_ The thought was too hideous to even contemplate, and it made him feel physically ill as he struggled to push it aside. _He won’t die, he can’t! I…I won’t stand for it. But that wizard in the Reading, he is a threat. A very dangerous threat, I just know it._

The wizard shivered again as he contemplated his mentor’s tendency to calmly walk into figurative viper pits with the goal of tying all the deadly beasts into knots. _Why does he always have to do things like this? And he calls me reckless! Ha! That’s a laugh! When I do something really dangerous it’s usually because I haven’t thought things through. But he always thinks things through, and then he goes and puts himself in mortal peril **anyway** , because he thinks it’s the logical thing to do. And if I ask him about it, he’ll just give me that look and tell me that he’s got everything under control. Well, he always does. But he always works with such narrow margins. It wouldn’t take much of a slip to…NO! Mustn’t think of it, mustn’t think of it…_

The party moved on through the mines. The tunnels resembled those in Nashkel, but something was quite different. The workers in Nashkel had been terrified of the threat from below, but they had been free men, mostly healthy and well fed. In the Cloakwood mines, slaves did the work. Sad emaciated shapes shuffled here and there, closely watched by brutal guards carrying whips and clubs. The slaves were thin and dirty, their eyes dull and lifeless from all the brutality they had suffered. One of them was coughing up blood, sounding like his lungs were about to hit the walls as well. Edwin felt a growing sense of unease. Slaves were common in Thay, of course. But this…this was so senseless. _Such a waste. Why would anybody waste their slaves by treating them like this? Unless he’s very, very sure that he can get as many as he likes._ It wasn’t a pleasant thought. The wizard noticed his companions’ growing anger and revulsion as they passed by more suffering slaves, killing one of the armed guards now and then when they had to. It reminded him of something else as well. 

_Teacher Dekaras wouldn’t have approved either. He never did like slavery. I…I suppose I can guess why. I remember now he once told me that he had once thought to leave Thay because of it, before I was even born. He never did tell me why he changed his mind though. But I could tell that he really hated the way things were. I always used to wonder how he was able to put up with it when he disliked it so much. But I never dared ask. I think I was afraid he might actually leave after all, if I reminded him._

Edwin was drawn out of his reverie as he almost bumped into Jaheira’s back. It seemed the others had stopped for some reason. Fighting to pull his thoughts together he heard Zaerini speaking with yet another slave. But this man was different, still with some will and pride left. Once he was certain that the adventurers were enemies of the Iron Throne, he was only too happy to help them. 

“This mine once belonged to a dwarven clan”, the slave explained. “They accidentally broke through into the river, and there was a great flood where most of them drowned. The Iron Throne patched the hole up when they reopened the mine, but it would be possible to bring the water back. There is a plug in the hole, locked in place so that it cannot be removed. The key is kept by Davaeorn. He’s the wizard who’s in charge of this operation, and he stays down at the bottom of the mine. If you could get the key from him and bring it here, I could help you remove the plug and flood the mine once more, causing the Iron Throne a great deal of harm.”

“A flood…” Zaerini said, her golden eyes glowing eagerly in the darkness. “Yes. That does sound like an excellent plan. Almost…as if it were fated to be.” She smiled faintly. 

_Her Reading!_ Edwin thought. _It’s…it’s coming true already. The flood, she foresaw it. And if that part is true…does that not mean that…that the rest must be true as well?_

“One thing though”, the slave added. You must promise to help get the other slaves out first. On the level before this one you will find Rill, in one of the dark cells. He is the one who comes closest to being our leader. Free him, then he’ll help free the rest of us.” 

“It is agreed”, the bard said, shaking the man’s hand. “I promise you that you will all be free if it is at all within my power to make it so.” 

The man had actual tears in his eyes by now. “I trust you”, he said. “I will pray for your success – and for you.” 

It was another hour before the adventurers found the staircase leading deeper into the mine, and by that time they were all exhausted. 

“I’m gettin’ a little sleepy”, Imoen said. “How about some rest now, Rini?” 

The half-elf sighed slightly. “I suppose we have to”, she said. “I don’t really like the thought of sleeping in here though.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll find us a safe spot. Just wait for me here.” The young thief melted into the surrounding shadows and moved off. _She has been getting much better at that_ , Edwin thought. _Much, much better_. 

When Imoen returned a short while later she looked very pleased with herself and proudly declared that she had found them a perfect spot to rest, an out of the way dead-end tunnel that didn’t look like it had been used in a long time. Once Edwin had set up an illusion spell that would make any passing guards see nothing but a blank wall, they were all set to rest. It was a long time before the wizard fell asleep though. And once he did, his dreams were anything but restful. They did start out pleasantly enough though… Yes. Safe…so safe…

The young wolf cub yawned noisily; his mind still drowsy with sleep. Something had awakened him; he knew not what. It didn’t matter. He was safe and warm, his belly full. Yawning once again with a sort of muffled, yipping sound, he nestled up against the thick fur of his companion. The great black wolf was lying with his muzzle resting against his forepaws, seemingly deep in thought about something. As he noticed the cub stirring, he raised his head, giving the young one an amused and affectionate glance. The cub felt even happier at this. The den was snug and comfortable, he was loved and protected. Everything was as it should be. It was as simple as that. He did, however, feel the urge to play, now that he was awake anyway. With mock ferociousness he stalked about the den on short legs, pouncing on imaginary prey, pretending to be as great a hunter as his companion. The black wolf looked on approvingly. He was obviously pleased, and this made the cub happier yet and made his tail wag so rapidly that it was a wonder he didn’t take flight. 

Emboldened by this the cub now set his sights on greater, more dangerous prey. Stalking low against the ground, his belly scraping against the dirt floor of the den, he stared at the adult wolf’s bushy tail with wide and unblinking eyes. The black didn’t seem to be noticing. Closer. Closer. Just a little closer and he’d be able to pounce… And then the black wolf twisted around, giving the cub a very meaningful stare. The cub pulled himself to a screeching halt just as he were about to spring, skidded along the floor as he tripped over his own paws and landed between the adult’s huge paws, grinning rather sheepishly. The black sighed with something akin to fond exasperation. With a small yip of excitement, the cub started chasing his own tail instead, until he’d eventually made himself dizzy enough that he fell over. Scrambling to his feet once more he climbed onto the broad back of the adult wolf who had lain down again. The large animal suffered the cub’s nipping and his flailing paws patiently for the most part, only growling slightly now and then to let him know when he got too rough. 

And then there was a sound, far away in the distance. The deep, booming sound of a hunter’s horn. The wolf cub ceased his play, suddenly afraid. The great black stood, alert, listening. Then he gently pushed the cub further into the den and slipped out through the entry hole like a living shadow. The cub waited, anxious but not really afraid. Everything would be all right. After some time, the black wolf returned, snow clinging to his fur, his muzzle wet with blood. Obviously, he had come across one of the hunters. But there were more horns in the distance, many more, and the cub suddenly knew that this den no longer was safe. The black had apparently come to the same conclusion. Jaws capable of easily crushing bone lifted the cub carefully, fangs that could tear the throat of a man open in seconds never even so much as scratching the young one’s skin. Then the large black wolf moved, swiftly bounding out of the den and into the raging snowstorm outside, as the horns sounded ever louder. The cub wasn’t afraid. They were together, and that meant everything would be all right. 

No longer a wolf cub, but a small boy, he was resting once more, in another den. The child sighed with content as he buried his cold hands in thick, black fur, pressing close to the great wolf beside him. He was safe once again, his friend and protector nearby. “I knew you’d take care of those nasty old hunters”, he whispered softly, wrapping a thin arm around the large animal’s neck. It didn’t even reach halfway around it. “You can do anything, can’t you?” The black wolf turned his head to look the child in the eyes, calm and confident. “You know something?” the boy said in a conversational tone. “Sometimes I wish I were a wolf too. Then I could really be yours. Wouldn’t that be nice?”

The wolf looked at the boy, and there seemed to be a shadow passing behind the luminous eyes, a dark shadow of sadness. “I…I’m sorry”, the child said. “If you don’t want me to…”

The wolf snorted quietly and gave him a highly impatient look, one that stated louder than words that he was being ridiculous in doubting that he was wanted. The child’s face brightened. “Oh. All right then. Then I think I’ll go on pretending it. It’s nice to pretend sometimes.” The wolf nodded briefly, his tail slowly sweeping against the floor in what might almost have been called a wag. 

Horns again, loud and threatening, and closer this time. The black wolf instantly leapt to his feet, snarling, smelling the air. Once again, he disappeared into the raging storm, once again he returned, with snow and fresh blood on his coat. But this time he was also favoring his left foreleg slightly, and the boy could see that it was bleeding. The sight terrified him to the core. “No!” he breathed. “No! You can’t be hurt! You mustn’t! That’s not right!” 

The wolf made an impatient whuffing noise and nudged the child in the side, indicating for him to climb onto the animal’s powerful back. “But I can’t do that. Not if you’re hurt. You’ll hurt more!” A very soft growl warned him not to protest anymore. The horns were still coming closer. In the end the boy did as he was bid, clinging tightly to the large wolf’s back as the beast sprang from the hidden den. There were some trails of blood in the snow that he could see, but more snow swiftly covered them, and the wolf certainly seemed capable of coping, despite a slight limp. The horns were growing more distant. Besides, we are together. As long as we are together everything will be all right. 

Another change of scenery, and he was grown up again. Edwin’s breathing was rapid, as he looked about himself, finding himself in yet another wolf den. The large black wolf was sitting close by his side, snow still clinging to his fur. The animal’s long tongue was visible as he panted, obviously still tired out from the run. The wizard stroked the wolf’s thick fur, checking for injuries, and winced when he saw that the wound was deeper than he had first thought. The wolf glared at him and pulled his leg away, looking somewhat insulted. “I’m sorry”, Edwin said, not really knowing what he was apologizing for. “I just…worry. That’s all. Please try to understand.” The animal gave him a cool look, but allowed himself to be fussed over, at least for a few minutes. 

Then the horns sounded again, and this time they were closer than they had ever been. The wolf got to his feet, but this time he looked weary, and the open wound was still dripping blood. _If he goes to face them like that he will die_ , a voice spoke in Edwin’s mind, and he knew it for his own. _You are the only one who can prevent that._

_How? How can I prevent it? Why are you doing this to me? I thought Ulcaster would only send one of these dreams._

_Well, you needed more than that. He set up a sort of…connection for you. You will need it from time to time, in order to keep track of those closest to your heart._

_But I…_

_Hurry now. He’s going, see? This time you need to keep **him** safe._

The black wolf was walking towards the exit of the den, still limping. The wound was bleeding more now. “No!” Edwin said, planting himself firmly in the way of the animal. “This time, I should be the one to go.”

The wolf gave him an annoyed look. 

“I mean it. You’re hurt. You could get killed.”

The wolf was ignoring him, clearly disgusted at the very idea of being coddled. And then Edwin knew what he must do. “Then…then at least let me help”, he said. “You go one way; I’ll go the other. That will make it more difficult for them, won’t it?” He hoped the lie sounded convincing enough. _Forgive me. I have to do this. I…I have to._

The wolf paused, considering. 

“Go”, the wizard said eagerly. “Go! I’m coming, I’m right behind you.” The black wolf nodded once, briefly. Then he was off, disappearing into the storm in the direction that Edwin had pointed out. The wizard made no move to follow, however. Instead he turned and headed the other way, towards the approaching hunters. 

_He’s gone_ , Edwin thought, tears freezing to drops of ice on his cheeks. _He’s really gone. I’m alone. And nothing will be all right. Not ever again._

The horns were coming closer as the snow whipped painfully against his face. They were almost upon him now, and from far in the distance he could hear the mournful howl of a wolf. 

-*-

There was a strong eastern wind blowing that day. It tugged playfully at the banners streaming atop the highest tower of the Iron Throne building, making them dance in the air. It crept stealthily into Sarevok's private chambers through the open window, overturning the pages of the diary he was writing in as if it were reading it. The warrior grunted with annoyance. And still the wind kept coming, sneaking around corners, dancing along the rooftops, howling like a gathering pack of wolves.

Simeon Sorles, the Iron Throne Head Butler, shivered as he crossed the yard in response to the summons from one of his underlings. The younger man hadn't made much sense, but it had sounded like a matter he needed to investigate himself. Frowning heavily, he opened the door to the small hallway by the servants' entrance. The stranger waiting inside turned around, inclining his head politely. A tall, lean man with penetrating black eyes in a sharp face, his black hair neatly pulled back, he was wearing the livery used by all servants in the Iron Throne headquarters, dark gray and with the Throne insignia discreetly embroidered over the heart. "Good day to you, sir", he said. "I will be pleased to begin my service immediately, as agreed."

Sorles gave the stranger a confused look. He was sure he hadn't seen the man before. Or had he? _Oh no. Suppose…suppose it was the last time I went out for…for a little night on the town?_ The Head Butler normally carried out his work perfectly. He did have one guilty secret however, being very fond of strong liquor. More often than not he would spend his day off drinking, either in one of the more discreet inns of the city or…down below it. This tended to leave him with holes in his memory large enough that you could drive a cart through them, and the next day he would have a splitting headache. So far, he had been able to carry out his work, but it wouldn't do for anybody in authority to find out. It might be taken the wrong way. Especially the fact that he visited the Undercellar not just for the drink but for the female company. A Head Butler needed to maintain a certain image. "And you are?" he asked, making himself sound as haughty as he could. 

"You surprise me, sir", the stranger said, arching an eyebrow. "It is, after all, only five days since we made our arrangements. "I trust you will remember the time and place. It was…a bit below street-level if you see what I mean." 

_Damn. He knows of the Undercellar. If…if this gets out I'm doomed_. Sorles tried to look indifferent, but it was impossible. He had been out on the mentioned day, and he could easily have chatted with the Grand Dukes themselves and not remembered it afterwards, he had been that drunk. But he had to pretend he knew what the stranger was talking about, it wouldn't do to let anybody know of his lapses of memory. Well, a couple of his favorite girls at the Undercellar knew already, but they didn't know him by name, so it made no difference. "Yes", he said, attempting to sound as confident as usual. "I…I remember now. It's just that your name escapes me at the moment."

"Perfectly understandable, sir", the stranger said, with no apparent trace of mockery. "My name is Bron. Jacen Bron. At your service. You do remember hiring me as one of the upstairs servants, I trust?"

"Ah…yes. I…I seem to remember now."

"I am happy to hear it, sir", the man who had called himself Bron said, his face impassive. "I would hate to think that you intended to break our contract now that I have already acquired the livery as you specified. I would have had to take steps. Still, perhaps you might want to take another look at it, as well as at my references."

Sorles accepted a thick wad of papers and leafed through them. As he did, his eyes widened. "These…these are excellent references!" he exclaimed, hardly believing in his own luck. Bron had apparently served with several minor nobles outside Baldur's Gate, and they all praised his skills immensely. 

"Yes, sir. I believe in doing my utmost to satisfy my employer."

"So it seems." Sorles now turned to the contract. He could recognize his own signature at the bottom. Everything certainly seemed all right, and the terms Bron wanted weren't unreasonable. A decent salary, not being obliged to stay at the Iron Throne compound and one day off a week. Sorles could definitely live with that if it meant getting his hands on a servant that good. Besides, he had obviously already signed, even if he couldn't remember it. He couldn't break the contract now. Not only would it be against the law, but also there was the small detail of the other man being able to spread the tale of his affiliations with the ladies of the Undercellar and his drunken revels there. "Yes", the Head Butler said. "Everything is in order." He cleared his throat, putting on his sternest face. "When working Upstairs, you will be required to perform with the utmost discretion. The Gentlemen do not wish to be disturbed when working. If you are called upon to wait on them, I want you to be more or less invisible and inaudible."

The ghost of a smile flickered across Bron's sharp face. "Certainly, sir", he said, sounding a little amused. "My clients have always found me more than capable of doing just that." 

"Good", Sorles said, unsure of why he suddenly felt a little uneasy. "I'll have somebody show you to your quarters and then fill you in on your new duties."

"Thank you, sir", said Bron, his eyes inscrutable. "I am most eager to get started."

About half an hour later Jacen Bron, alias Vadrak Dekaras, was feeling very pleased indeed as he contemplated the morning's achievements. Everything had worked according to his plans so far. He was currently standing in a small chamber on the second floor of the Iron Throne building, a room that would be set aside for his use. While the contract he had had forged stipulated that he was free to spend his nights elsewhere if he so wished, he also needed a private place within the Throne building. It wasn't much, just a bare room with a narrow bed, a small table, a rickety chair and a cabinet, but he didn't really need any luxuries. 

The assassin stood by the window, making note of the fact that it faced the inner courtyard, not the street. An imperfect escape route then if things should ever go that far. He would need to work out some alternate way. At least his future duties didn't seem all that taxing. The official ones, that was. The spying would likely be more demanding. 

Yes, everything was going well. The moment he'd learnt through the Thieves Guild of Simeon Sorles' drinking habits he had suspected the man would be his means of infiltrating the Throne. The perfectly made Iron Throne livery, the masterfully forged contract and references, together with the Head Butler's memory lapses they had all helped to make the lie believable. Dekaras remembered how he'd found out about those memory lapses as he had trailed Sorles through the Undercellar, eavesdropping on his conversation with a pretty blonde courtesan named Aliva. 

_And to think_ , the assassin thought to himself, _that so many of the nobles and other 'respectable' citizens who frequent that place actually delude themselves into believing that nobody will be able to recognize them as long as they're wearing a tiny black mask that barely covers their eyes. Laughable. The blackmailers of this city must be wealthier than the Grand Dukes themselves. Those foolish nobles are like sheep lining up to be sheared, for anybody who cares to do so. The way a person walks and moves about, their gestures - those things cannot be hidden by little masks. Not to mention those individuals who prance around naked, wearing their masks but neglecting to hide distinctive birthmarks and scars._

Dekaras shrugged and turned his thoughts from blackmail to a more relevant subject. The Thieves Guild of Baldur's Gate wasn't particularly extensive, not like some he'd seen. Still, he'd made a few useful contacts, and he'd been careful to go and see the Guild Leader as soon as he arrived. _Ravenscar. What kind of a name is that, I ask you? Oh well. It could be worse, I suppose. He could have been calling himself 'Bloodmaster' or something equally ridiculous._

Still, it would have been a bad mistake to underestimate the man. Much better to have his blessing, such as it were, to operate within the city. The fee had been high, but not unreasonable, and it wasn't as if he didn't have the means to acquire more money. Also, it would have been extremely awkward to be bothered by the Guild while undercover. Much better to buy them off. His real enemies were dangerous enough, he didn't really need to create any new ones at the moment. 

The assassin thought briefly about how to go about the rest of the mission. He would try to take things slowly, in order not to get discovered, but he also needed to learn as much as possible before Edwin's eventual arrival to the city. Once he had settled into his new role and established his position, he'd see what he could learn from the Iron Throne leaders. But more importantly than that, he would need to find out as much as possible about Sarevok, and that mage of his, Winski. Those two were in charge of the schemes within the schemes, he was willing to bet his life on that. 

_In fact_ Dekaras thought with a crooked half-smile, _I suppose I've just done so. Well, as long as I stay discreet there shouldn't be a problem. I'd really prefer to avoid an open confrontation; I don't want to move against them until I'm certain I have the upper hand if that's possible. And yet, I would also like to be able to present something substantial once Edwin gets here._

The assassin stared out the window, his black eyes pensive, as he tried to imagine what the wizard might be doing at the moment. _I guess they've probably reached the mines by now. I just hope Edwin has the sense not to act without thinking, for once. I have a feeling Sarevok's hirelings at the mine will have been chosen for their fighting abilities, not for their tendency to overlook insults_. He sighed quietly and fingered one of his many hidden daggers through the cloth of his sleeve. Given how well he knew Edwin, he estimated that the probability of the wizard doing nothing rash was a very slim one indeed. 

_And yet I have to trust him, unnerving as it is to let him wander about on his own. At least he knows how to handle his magic reasonably well by now that he shouldn't accidentally blast himself to bits. If only there weren't all those other people all too willing to do it for him…I really wish I could split in two and be there for him as well as here. But he isn't entirely alone, and there's nobody else available to handle this side of things. And we need this information, I know it._

Dekaras' face softened as the image of a woman drifted to the forefront of his mind. Her face was both proud and beautiful, and raven tresses flowed like a smooth black waterfall towards white shoulders, with skin as soft as silk. A will of iron she had, his lover, and a temper like wildfire, hot and deadly. It was part of what made her perfect. _Promise me_ , she had said at their last tryst before he left. _Promise me that you will keep him safe. That you will both be safe._ She had repeated those words, as she had done before, and he had responded in the same manner that he had done before. 

_I promise, beloved_ , he had said, over and over again, gently touching her pale cheek. _The two of you are the two most important people in the world to me, you know that. I would do anything to keep you both safe_. Her kiss had been hungry, forceful, overflowing with hot need. It had been as if she was trying to touch his very soul and make him leave part of it behind for her to keep. The assassin suspected that he might well have done just that. It certainly felt that way. As he had run his fingers along the small of her back, he had felt her tremble with strong emotions and her body arched against his as if she was about to melt into him. That had made it very difficult to concentrate on what they were talking about. 

_And you had better keep that promise, and stay alive for me_ , his love had said once she was finally able to breathe properly again. _If…if you go and die on me, I'll happily kill you myself._

_I will keep my promise if I can, my love_ , Dekaras thought to himself, his mouth set with determination. _But I will make my own priorities, as always. I don't care what I have to do, or who has to die, as long as our child remains safe and unharmed. Even if that somebody should happen to be myself. Should it come to a decision, I will not hesitate to do whatever I must_. He looked out the window again, at the dancing Iron Throne banners high above on the towers. The eastern wind was still strong. It would likely be some time yet before it turned.


	35. Priest And Prisoner

**In The Cards 35 - Priest And Prisoner**

_Not all dwarves are hotheaded battleragers, living for war and ready to go into a berserk rage at any moment. Many are quiet, sober, peaceful and hardworking. But all dwarves have very long memories and leaving a dwarf alive to remember you after you've seriously offended him is a bad mistake._

_Excerpt from 'Ruminations Of A Master Bard'_

As the party passed deeper into the Cloakwood Mines they noticed something was different. The mine shafts were replaced with storage chambers and guard rooms, heavily armed guards took the place of the slaves. Spells and swords dealt with those, one group at a time. Then they found the dungeon, and once they had dealt with yet another guard, they found out that there were indeed slaves here as well. 

The prison cells were dark and damp, a pile of smelly straw the one piece of 'furniture' present in each. Inside, slaves huddled in fear, even more miserable than the ones on the floor above. One was different though. 

"Hey!" a tired voice called out from one of the cells. " Aren't you the mercenaries who've been causing the Iron Throne so much trouble?"

"Yes", Zaerini said, moving over to the bars. The prisoner was thin and not particularly healthy-looking, his beard dirty and unkempt, his body beneath the thin rags he was wearing was covered with old scars from a whip. Some looked new and raw too. "We are. Don't worry, we'll let you out of here. My friend is good with opening locks without keys, you know."

"Good", the man breathed. "It's not that simple though. If you just let us out, the guards will recapture us again very soon, and then we'll be worse off than before."

"Surely you don't want us to leave you here?"

"No, no. But I forget myself. My name is Rill, and I'm the defacto leader of the slaves here beneath the Cloakwood. I heard about you, because I'm always careful to listen to what the Black Talons talk about. It seems that the Iron Throne has placed a large price on the head of someone named Zaerini, which would be you, I assume." Rill's eyes were burning eagerly by now as he spoke, his words almost stumbling from his lips. "Enough introductions, we don't have much time. I need 100 gold. The captain of the Black Talons on the first floor is not known for his loyalty to the Throne. If you give me the money, I'm sure I could bribe him to look the other way, while I escape with the rest of the slaves. After all, most of the Talons are going to be preoccupied with you. Well, how about it?"

"Child?" Jaheira asked. "What say you?"

The bard tossed her red hair back in a gesture of annoyance. "I'm hardly cheap enough not to think that we can spare a hundred", she said. "Besides, I hate slavery anyway. Can't stand even the thought of it." She noticed Edwin wince slightly. "No offence, Eddie", she hastily added. "I know it's not your personal fault, but the keeping of slaves in Thay really bothers me. I don't think I could ever work for the Red Wizards knowing of that." The explanation didn't really seem to make the wizard any happier though. 

"Here you go", Imoen said, and swung open the door to Rill's cell. "Good lock that, but not too difficult for me of course." She smiled. 

"Thank you!" the slave leader said once he had gratefully accepted the offered money. "Thank you so much. I wish you well and hope that you can bring an end to this stinking operation." He paused. "Oh, another thing. In the dark cell at the end of this passage you will find a dwarf, one of the ones who lived here before. You should go talk to him; I think he knows a great deal about this place."

"I will", Zaerini said. "Good luck to you." She continued down the hallway, until she came upon a solitary door. Unlike the others, this one had no bars to let in light, and there were heavy chains on it, apart from the sturdy lock. "Immy?" Zaerini asked. "Think you can handle this one?"

"Sure", the pink-haired girl said, giving the lock a critical look. "It may look hard, but it's just a Dungeon Master 2000. And those can be picked as easy as this." She took out a slender metal instrument, inserted it into the lock and after a minute or so there was a loud 'click'. "See?" she said proudly. "Told ya." 

Zaerini carefully swung the heavy door open and peeked inside. This cell didn't even have the filthy straw of the others. Just cold, bare stone. The prisoner sitting on the floor blinked owlishly at her, his eyes unaccustomed to the sudden light, faint as it was. _Locking a person in total darkness for who knows how long is really cruel_ , the bard thought to herself. _I guess somebody really wanted this guy to suffer._

The prisoner in question turned out to be a dwarf, currently looking rather thin and ill due to his recent mistreatment. He had managed to keep his blond beard more or less neat though. _Good_ , Rini thought. _That means he hasn't given up entirely. The day a dwarf ceases to take care of his beard he's either dead or permanently insane._

_Well, grooming is very important_ , Softpaws said. _I think you should do it yourself more often, several times a day like I do. I'll teach you how to do it properly._

_Softy, you lick your own nether regions in public._

_And your point is?_

_Never mind._

The dwarf seemed to have come to the conclusion that the people facing him weren't part of the bandit operation. He rose from the floor and approached them, a pleased smile on his face. "Strangers?" he said. "Can it be? Oh, a fine sight are you, who ever you are! Sick to death of bandits I am! I have been cooped up the longest time, but if you've a spare mace I'd gladly swing it for yer cause. I can do things cleric wise as well, so I'm mind as well as muscle. By Clangeddin, a chance to right past wrongs! Can I join you?"

_Another healer would be useful_ , Rini thought. _Especially one who can fight. And he has a personal score to settle with the Throne, so I'm sure we'll be able to trust him_ "I'm certainly interested", she said. "Perhaps you could just tell me who you are first? Am I right in assuming that you're one of the dwarves that lived here before the Throne took over?"

A shadow seemed to pass across the dwarf's friendly face. "Aye", he said, "that I be. The name is Yeslick, Yeslick Deepdelver. And delve deeply we did, me and my kinfolk. Too deeply. Anyway, these are my mines that the blasted Iron Throne has stolen. Well, they were my clan's home 125 years ago. Curse me for a fool, I trusted them! Years ago, that blasted Reiltar gave me a good trade smithing for the Throne, and then I go and tell him about my old home! About how my clan had the richest iron mine on any coast, and how almost all were killed when we breached a riverbank. Lost most my kin in that flood. Those of us that survived couldn't bear to go back down. It was a giant watery tomb, and we left it the way she stood." The dwarf spat on the ground in disgust. "So, I go and tell this to my "friend" Reiltar, and he has me chained up! He tortures the location outta me, and now this graveyard feeds the Iron Throne as they bleed the coast dry. That be the worst thing, far worse than the actual torture, him rubbing my face in the knowledge that I've been forced to help him rob and enslave people. If you want to cripple the plans of the Throne, help me flood these accursed mines once more! They plugged the breach but knowing hands can loose the flow! We can drown these black-hearted rats in the very mine they've stolen!"

Zaerini made up her mind. She liked this dwarf, she felt sorry for him and his skills would likely be useful. _The Prisoner, and the Priest. I see it now. First, he was one, then the other, and now I can help set him free. Didn't guess they'd both turn out to be the same dwarf, but they did try their best to help me_. "You're welcome to join us, Yeslick", she said, shaking hands with the dwarf, trying not to wince as he more or less squashed her slender fingers in a massive and callused fist. "This 'Reiltar' you mentioned - who is he?"

"Reiltar Anchev", Yeslick growled. "One of the high and mighty in the Throne he is, the sargh calass. Sits at the very top like a fly on a turd." He cracked his knuckles. "Fooled me, he did. Made me think he was to be trusted, a man of his word. But he's the worst kind of filth that one. It isn't enough that he wins, if you've crossed him he wants to break you in the worst way possible so you never dare even think of doin' it again." He pointed at the filthy cell. "Wasn't enough for him to slam me in here and torture me. He wanted me to know what he was doing to me mine, the way he soiled it - and me."

"That's really awful." 

"Aye, that it be. But he'll pay for it. One day when he least expects it, there I'll be to demand payment for his evil. In blood."

"An odd statement", Edwin remarked. "Not what I would have expected from a conventional dwarven priest at all." 

"Quite true, lad, as far as this old dwarf is concerned. Normally I'd say that problems should be thought through, and that battle should be joined when necessary, but not before." Yeslick pointed at the disgusting cell behind him. "Well, in there I had **plenty** of time to think, and now it is time. Reiltar must pay for his betrayal of our friendship. And he will, one way or another. Yes, he will. This is the time to fight, not to pray."

"So it is", Zaerini said. "Yeslick, as I said you are welcome to join with us. We're heading for the deepest levels of the mines, to find the mage Daveorn. Can you guide us there?"

"Do elves have egos the size of planets?" The dwarf blushed as soon as he'd finished the sentence, looking embarrassed. "Sorry, lass. Just an old saying. Meant no harm by it."

"That's all right", the bard said with a wide grin. "I'm half-elf, anyway. And while I'm sure not all elves are bad, the last one I met recently certainly matched your description. I think you and I are going to get along just fine, particularly if you teach me some dwarven songs. I hear your people are very good at the epic kinds."

"That is so", Yeslick nodded, "and I'd be happy to do so. Once we're out o'this place I'll be pleased to teach ye some o'the more traditional ones. There's this one classic called 'Bags Of Gold', that's one o'my favorites. Very good for annoying elves. Flighty folk, elves, don't have the patience to sit through a proper dwarven song." 

Rini put her arm through that of the dwarf, escorting him away from the dungeon. "Yeslick", she said, "I think this may be the beginning of a beautiful friendship."

"Aye", Yeslick said, stroking his beard as he walked, "my father was a miner, good and true. And my mother was a miner before him." Having been subjected to a number of Jaheira's healing spells and fitted with what armor and weapons the adventurers had been able to find on the dead bandits, he now looked much stronger and healthier. "'Tis a good thing they never had to see the mine of our clan defiled like this." He scowled. "That Reiltar has a lot to pay for."

"What can you tell us about him?" Zaerini asked. "If he's one of the Iron Throne leaders I figure any scrap of information will be useful."

The dwarf's face darkened. "Watch yer step around that one, lass", he said. "Reiltar is a pure devil of a man, his heart rotten to the core. He cares naught for anybody but himself, and he enjoys causing pain to those powerless to stop him. And yet he is cunning, and able to conceal his true nature to others. Once I found out what he was really like it 'twas already too late for me. Best pray that ye never fall into his hands, I would nay wish that on anybody."

_That's cheerful_ , the bard thought to herself. 

_Probably true, though_ , Softpaws said.

_Oh, I'm sure it is. That doesn't make it better._

"What about a man called Sarevok?" Rini asked. "Did you ever meet him in your dealings with the Throne?"

Yeslick nodded. "Sarevok", he said. "I recall the name, though I never met the man. Reiltar's son, I heard, and his second in command."

_Foster son, I think you'll find. And by this time I'm pretty sure he's the one doing the commanding, whether Reiltar knows it or not._

It was at that moment that a scream echoed through the empty corridor, the piercing, despairing scream of a creature in torment, longing only for death. Rini felt her heart leap into her throat with the shock. 

"Th-that i-is a b-b-bad sign!" Khalid breathed. 

"You don't say?" Edwin said in his most sarcastic voice. "And here I thought it added to the already pleasant and soothing atmosphere of a dungeon with deadly traps around every corner and hordes of bandits wanting to kill us. After all, what would the Abyss be like without the screams of the damned?"

"I…I smell something", Imoen said, her face very pale against her pink hair. "Something…rotten. What is it?"

"Death", Yeslick grimly said. "Death, lass. 'Tis Daveorn's torture chamber in one of the rooms up ahead." He broke into a run. "By Clangeddin, I will nay allow this to continue!"

_Crud_ , Rini thought to herself as she rushed after the dwarf with the rest of her friends close behind. _I never would have guessed a dwarf could run that fast. I just hope he doesn't get himself killed charging ahead like that._

The smell of old blood became stronger as the half-elf got closer to the door at the end of the corridor, sweet and cloying in her nostrils and mixed with the stench of rotting flesh. The blood smell was enflaming her senses as it sometimes did, setting her mind ablaze with fury and disgust at what she knew lay ahead. The flames were dancing through her heart and her brain, and beneath them something craved the blood, craved death and destruction. Had she been able to see herself she would have noticed her golden eyes blazing as fiercely as Sarevok's ever did. 

The room was more or less bare, with cold rock walls and floor. What furniture there was wasn't furniture as such. Rather there was a rack, chains, various cruel hooks and tongs and other implements of torture. Zaerini couldn't even begin to guess what some of them were for, and she was certain she never wanted to find out. But that wasn't the worst thing about the room.

The smell was stronger in here, the very air saturated with the stench of blood. The blood was everywhere, on the floor, splattered across the walls, even on the ceiling. Bits of flesh and…and other things were stuck here and there on the knives and hooks. That wasn't the worst thing about the room either. 

A large ogre stood at the other side of the room, tusks protruding from his mouth in a cruel smile, dripping blood. One massive hand held a large whip, the other a wicked knife. As the horrified half-elf watched, the ogre raised the blade and licked the blood off it with a wide pink tongue. But even that wasn't the worst thing about the room.

The worst thing, the very worst thing, lay on the floor at the ogre's feet. It had probably been human once, but by now it was very difficult to tell for certain, since just about everything that could have revealed it as such had been…removed. It was…a lump. A bleeding, quivering lump, still moaning quietly without a tongue. As the bard stared, transfixed with the horror of it, it gave a final spasm and then was still. She hoped it was dead. She really did. 

"So, you have come to look at my handiwork", the ogre said in an almost pleasant voice, turning around. "Rather impressive, ain't it?" He kicked the lump at his feet. It didn't move. "Guess this one will think twice about being uppity again, eh?" He chuckled. "And so will his little friends, once we display him on the wall as a lesson." 

The fires in her soul were burning even hotter by now, and the half-elf didn't pause to challenge the ogre. She didn't want some sort of fancy duel after all. She just wanted him dead. A flaming arrow shot from her outstretched palm and buried itself in the ogre's throat with a hissing sound, accompanied by the smell of overcooked meat. It was followed by an acid one from Edwin, and the ogre torturer was screaming as badly as his victims had ever done as it melted one of his eyes. Fires, fires dancing inside her head, and Zaerini was only vaguely aware of the fact that she was stabbing at the ogre with her sword now, too out of control to concentrate on spellcasting, with Yeslick and Jaheira to either side of her and Khalid close by. Then the ogre went down, but she wanted more, wanted blood, and wanted it badly. And she didn't care that her arm was hurting by now, didn't care at all. 

It wasn't until she felt the soothing presence of her familiar's touch against her mind that she finally came back to herself. Was that Imoen she could hear vomiting somewhere behind her?

_Kitten, enough. He is dead now._

Gathering all her willpower Rini forced herself to stop raising her sword. The ogre was dead at her feet, his body almost as bloody a mess as that of the poor torture victim. "E-everybody all right?" she asked her friends. At least they all were still standing, though they looked more than a little unsettled.

"Aye", Yeslick said. "So it seems." He gave the sad corpse in the corner compassionate look. "A bad business this. I knew that Daveorn ruled with an iron fist and that he was cruel, but not that…that he was up to such villainy. I should have known. He's Reiltar's creature, after all, and Reiltar would approve of this." He shook his head, looking disgusted. 

"B-but why?" Imoen asked, obviously fighting to keep her tears back. Zaerini hastily moved over to put a comforting arm around her friend's shoulders. 

"To keep the slaves cowed, no doubt", Jaheira said. "Few would dare rebel having been confronted with atrocities such as this." 

"Well, it won't happen again", Rini said, her golden eyes still burning with hot determination. "Everybody, out of the room. Edwin, stay here would you? I'm not going anywhere until this place is cleansed." 

"Are you certain?" the wizard asked. "We may need those spells later on."

The rest of the group had moved out by now, and Zaerini lowered her voice so that only Edwin could hear her. "I know", she said. "But…I have to do this anyway. I need to do this." She hoped her voice didn't tremble. "The blood, I can still smell it, and part of me enjoys that smell, even as the rest of me is revolted by it. I must be rid of it…or…or I don't know if I'll be able to hold that part back for much longer. Just…just help me do this. Please. I…I don't want to turn into some monster. Suppose…suppose I hurt y…er…somebody I care about?" 

The wizard touched her hand briefly, his dark eyes very serious. "I will never think of you as a monster", he said. "I promise it. Whatever actions you may take, you will never be a monster to me. Besides, I am a conjurer. Handling dangerous creatures is my specialty, what I do best. (And quite enjoyable it can be too.) I hardly think you're about to sprout fangs and attack me, but if you were to, I'm sure I could soothe the savage beast, as it were."

"Thank you", Zaerini said with a brief smile that made the wizard squirm and stare at his own feet. "That…that really means a lot." She cleared her throat. "Well. Shall we settle this, then?"

The two fireballs burst into being at exactly the same time, immolating the dead ogre and his unfortunate victim both, searing the blood off the walls of the torture chamber. Once the fire had burnt itself out the smell of blood was gone, and so were the corpses, leaving only some ashes behind.

"Does that help any?" Edwin asked once it was done. He sounded rather concerned, the bard noticed. _Hope he doesn't think I'm about to freak out on him_. "Do you feel better now? (Personally, I've always found that there are few of life's little problems not solvable by a good fireball.)"

"Yes", Zaerini said. "Yes, I do. Thanks, Eddie. You're a really good friend to have, you know that?" 

"Me? Er…I mean…naturally! I'm good at everything I attempt, and most things that I don't. Of course I am." He paused, looking anxious. "Er…do you really think so?"

"Yes. I do." A mischievous smile crossed the bard's face, her past worry and anger already forgotten. "Would I lie to you - Dread Wizard?"

And now the wizard was smiling as well, a smile that was rare in its openness and that lit up his face from within. "You wouldn't dare - Hellkitten. You are no match for my magic, after all. Or my superior mind." 

"That's what you think, boy. My mind can run circles around yours, even on a bad day." Rini smiled again, taking the edge off her words. "I think the others may be waiting for us, and we really do have to deal with this Daveorn person. I'm afraid the fight will have to wait for another time, entertaining as it is."

Edwin gave her an exaggerated bow. "Any time, Hellkitten", he said. "Any time you so desire."

_A short while later…_

"So, this is Daveorn's place", Imoen said in a low voice. "Very nice."

"Except for it being situated at the bottom of a mine", Edwin said. "Personally, I would have preferred a nice beach property. Much easier to get a good price for if you should decide to sell it someday."

The adventurers had reached what Zaerini assumed was the deepest level of the mine. They were standing in a small ante chamber, from which a dark corridor led into Daveorn's abode. What had surprised them was the luxurious way the room was decorated. Beautiful carpets on the floor, soft and thick, with what seemed to be gold thread woven into them. Tables of wood that practically glowed with an inner light, so polished were they. Lovely ornaments of the thinnest china imaginable. Magic lanterns hanging in the air, spreading a soft and welcoming yellow light. Somehow Zaerini didn't imagine that welcome was meant for her.

"Let's be very careful and take some time to prepare", she said. "We have no way of knowing if he's alone in there. We should try to get every advantage possible." She smiled slowly. "Besides, I have an idea. Let's try to get Daveorn a little off-balance, shall we?" 

Once all Jaheira's and Yeslick's spells were cast the adventurers were glowing almost as brightly as the lanterns with magic light. Rini could feel the spells tingling in her skin, pulsing through her blood, giving strength and courage. A haste spell from Edwin made her as swift as the wind. Finally, the Red Wizard cast a spell of invisibility on her, and then one on himself. "You shouldn't go alone", he said stubbornly. "If you get in trouble the others may not be able to assist you in time, so I'm coming with you whether you like it or not. (Her at least I am able to aid, despite her having that same regrettable tendency of wanting to handle things on her own.)"

The bard might have argued, but it's very difficult to argue with an invisible person. _And besides, he'd probably just follow me anyway, like he'd glued himself to my rear end or something._

_You'd like that, wouldn't you, kitten?_

"All right", Rini whispered, trying to ignore the voice of her familiar. "You can come. Just keep quiet and let me do the talking. The rest of you, be prepared to move in." She moved off down the corridor, trying to be as quiet as possible. 

The light grew stronger as she neared the end of the corridor, and then Zaerini found herself in a beautiful living-room, as richly furnished as the chamber she had seen before. The same rich carpets, these ones in the deepest red, beautiful paintings on the walls, heavy armchairs… Daveorn was sitting in one of them, reading a book. At first, she thought him an old man, and then she realized her mistake. His hair was white, but he was by no means ancient. He had a square jaw that gave him a hard and determined look, a jutting nose and icy blue eyes with no hint of emotion in them as he raised them from the page he was reading. 

"Visitors?" he said, his voice a slow drawl. "How very charming." He set the book down on a table, marking the page. "You may as well show yourselves. I know you are there."

Zaerini kept quiet, slowly inching closer to the mage. He might be able to sense she was there but judging from the way his eyes scanned the room he wasn't able to actually see her. 

"Why have you come?" Daveorn asked, his tone conversational. "Is it to steal my riches or perhaps you seek to righteously punish me for my affront to your morality? It matters little, for you will do neither. Before I dispose of you in some horribly gruesome manner I should introduce myself. I am known as Davaeorn; I would ask you for your names, but I care little to become acquainted with the dead."

It was time. "I know well who you are", Zaerini said, projecting her voice close by the wizard's ear. "And you ought to know well who I am - brother." It wasn't in her own voice that she spoke. Rather it was the voice of a man she had met some time ago, a man with a score to settle against the brother who had betrayed him and murdered their father, a man who had sworn revenge. The man who had called himself 'the Surgeon'. 

Just as she had hoped, this reminder of his past caused Davaeorn some distress. He flinched visibly, striking out with the staff he carried in the direction of the voice, hitting nothing but empty air. "You!" he hissed. "How did you find me? Why are you here?"

"You should have known you wouldn't be able to hide from me forever, my brother", Rini said, making her voice as cold as she could. "And you know why I am here. You murdered my father." As she spoke those words they seemed to echo strangely in her mind. _Sarevok. Gorion. How long until I finally confront my own brother? How long?_ She made herself go on. "This is your final chance. I want nothing more than to see you dead, but there are things more important than even that. Hand me the key to the river plug, and I may yet spare your life." This was the first part of her plan, trying to scare the wizard enough that he'd surrender the key without a fight. She knew he was highly dangerous; she'd prefer to trick him if possible. Davaeorn would have none of it, however. 

"Never!" he snarled. "You will never meddle in my affairs again, brother. I will see you dead first."

_So be it then. Time for plan B_. The wizard was backing towards her, and she projected the taunting voice in front of him, then to the sides, alternating it rapidly. "Give it up, brother!" she cried. "You cannot match me." Closer. Just a little bit closer… She was edging her sword out of its scabbard by now, and as soon as the wizard's back was close enough she struck. It wasn't a bad blow by any means, and had she been more trained in the art of death dealing Davaeorn would have been dead in an instant. As it was, it veered just a little bit to the right, and instead of being planted firmly inside his body it glanced his side, drawing blood but not wounding him fatally. Davaeorn shrieked, and before she had the time to strike again, he cast a spell, one that seemed to fold the very air in front of him, allowing him to step through. Then he was gone, one of Edwin's magic missile spells fizzling uselessly in the air behind him. 

_Crap. Well, at least Jaheira and the others will be along any minute to back us up_. And then she heard a sound. A booming metallic sound, and in the corridor through which she and Edwin had entered she could see two large warriors rear up out of the very floor, dressed in heavy armor and wielding swords that burned with hot blue flames. They were neatly cutting off her friends' access to the rest of Daveorn's apartment. _Oh no. Double crap. Guess we're on our own…_

Visible once more after having made an attack, Edwin didn't waste any time. A small group of mirror images sprang into existence around him, offering him some protection from hostile magic. Rini followed his example, and just barely had the time to get the spell up before Davaeorn appeared again in one of the adjoining rooms, sporting several mirror images of his own. A small temple, she thought, with an altar bearing the Dark Sun of Cyric. Then she didn't have the time to think any more as she found herself in the middle of a pitched mage battle. 

Magic missiles screamed through the air, instantly taking out two of her mirror images, and then Davaeorn was gone again. A large horde of small blue xvarts burst forth from Edwin's wand, screaming for blood in shrill voices. Helpful as they were, it was with more than a little unease that Rini noticed that one of them, an ancient-looking one with a white beard, was wearing a red cap that looked like it had been dyed with blood. "Very good, my little xvarts!" this one yelled. "Get him!"

"Is it time to kill now, Daddy Xvarts?" one of the others asked, jumping up and down with excitement. 

"So it is", the bearded one said. "And lets all have a jolly good xvartsing time about it too! Then we'll have a nice xvarts party!" 

"YAAAAYYYY!" all of the xvarts screamed, making Rini wince and press her hands against her sensitive ears. Then they charged after Davaeorn, singing a disgustingly cheerful tune. It was with a certain sense of relief that the bard saw half of them burnt to a crisp by a fireball dispatched by the Iron Throne wizard. 

_Perhaps if I could get him to stay in one place this would be easier._ And there was one spell that might do just that, a holding spell she'd learnt only recently. At first it seemed to work as it should, a bright net of magical energy settling around Davaeorn. But then it simply shattered, dissolved into nothing as the wizard teleported away once more, blasting Edwin with yet another fireball that made the Red Wizard curse loudly as he tried to stomp the flames out of his robes. _How did he do that? That spell should have nailed him to the floor! And I really wish he'd stop that teleporting thing; it's getting extremely annoying. Now where did he go?_

She couldn't see Davaeorn anywhere, and there were open doors all around. She didn't dare chase after him blindly either. And then she saw the markings on the floor, red drops scattered about like fallen rubies, and there was that smell in the air again. The smell of blood. Not stale old rotting blood like in the torture chamber upstairs. No, this was fresh blood, and the smell was singing to her, calling out, sharpening her senses. She could almost hear the beating of the enemy wizard's frightened heart, could almost see blood red arrows pointing directly at him, could taste his hatred and apprehension as he prepared to launch another attack. 

The half-elf was smiling by now, her golden eyes glittering with the excitement of the hunt. The prey had been clever, but she had him now and she'd finish what she'd started. The sounds of the battle up in the corridor were vague buzzing noises in her ears, swords meeting swords, the heavy clank of armor. She couldn't afford to pay attention to it now. She had to focus on one thing and one thing only. Davaeorn. She inhaled deeply, allowing the blood scent to fill her nostrils, unaware of the fact that when she smiled her canines seemed to be lengthening for a moment, growing sharper, her pupils narrowing to slits. _The prey...is…there._

She twisted around with inhuman agility and speed, as supple as any hunting cat, letting the instinct guide her even as she kept a tight hold of it in order not to lose control. Davaeorn was standing in the open doorway right behind her, raising his hands to cast another spell, his eyes wide with fear as he knew he had been spotted. The wound in his side was still bleeding, starting to dye his robes a deep, rich red. All of his mirror images were gone by now. 

_Hello, rat. Watch me pounce_. The flame arrow left her palm at the exact same time as the now recovered Edwin fired one of his own, striking true. As Davaeorn gasped with the searing pain he left himself wide open, and the half-elf wasn't about to waste that opportunity. This time her sword hit home exactly as she meant it to, sinking deep into the Iron Throne wizard's chest, where she twisted it around for good measure. And Davaeorn died at last, not with a scream, not with a curse, but with a simple quiet whimper. 

"See?" Edwin said, trying to catch his breath. "Aren't you glad I came along? Without my assistance you'd be toast by now."

"I hardly think so", the bard snorted. "I'm not some helpless damsel in distress, you know." Her voice softened. "But you were very helpful. Thank you." 

"Children?" Jaheira said as she came up behind them. "Are you all right?" 

"There were these two huge nasty things with flaming swords!" Imoen exclaimed excitedly. "Really mean and dangerous, they almost took Jaheira's head off." The druid gave her an annoyed glance. Imoen obliviously went on. "Only then Yeslick cast this spell to make their swords disappear, so I guess they were made from magic and not really real. Wasn't that clever of him?"

"Yes", Rini said, sounding as serious as she could as she pretended not to notice Jaheira's glare. "Very clever. I'm kind of surprised you didn't think of that, Jaheira. But I suppose we can't all be tacticians." The druid looked about ready to chew rocks. 

"Would you look at this!" Edwin crowed excitedly as he bent over Davaeorn's dead body. "It's a Robe of the Archmagi! A genuine, actual Robe of the Archmagi!"

"That's good, is it?" Imoen asked.

"Good? Good! It's extraordinarily marvelous! Have you any idea how rare these are? It's worth a fortune. I always wanted one of these, but I never came across one so far."

"Well, Eddie", Zaerini said with a crooked grin as she too knelt by the corpse, meeting the wizard's eyes. "Consider this an early birthday present then. Or a late one. Whichever." _He really looks like an excited little kid. It's…kind of cute actually._

The Red Wizard was smiling widely by now, too pleased to speak as he started stripping off the bloody robes. 

"Y-you're going to w-wear those?" Khalid asked. "Don't you w-want to at least w-wash them first?"

"That can wait. These are Robes of the Archmagi! Who cares about a little blood? (I can't wait to show these to…anybody who might be interested.)"

"And here's a pretty trinket for me as well", Zaerini said, pulling a twisted silver ring off the dead wizard's finger. "I know what this little toy is. A ring that makes the wearer immune to holding spells. Very handy." She slipped it on her own finger, and the ring adapted in size, fitting her perfectly. "And what's this?" 

Three letters had fallen onto the floor as Edwin shook out the Archmagi robes. The half-elf read them all out loud in turn. 

_Davaeorn,  
I have received your request for extra slaves. They will be sent as soon as possible. Events go well in Baldur's Gate. We have purchased one of the western noble estates to use as our base of operations. It is an ancient building, most likely constructed before the erection of the second wall. Its construction makes it very defensible against those who would thieve it. Remember to ask Yeslick if he enjoys his new accommodations. _

_Reiltar.  
Alturiak, 1367_

_Davaeorn,  
Our plans go smoothly. Sarevok has arrived from our headquarters in Ordulin. He brings news from our superiors; they are pleased with our progress so far. I plan to place Sarevok as the commander of our mercenary forces in the region. He has already sent his subordinate, Tazok, to the Wood of Sharp Teeth to take command of the forces located there. Things go apace here in Baldur's Gate. We have placed our first agent among the ranks of the Seven Suns trading coster. _

_Reiltar.  
Flamerule, 1368_

_Davaeorn,  
As you have probably heard, the iron poison has begun to take affect around the coast. With the majority of iron imports being disrupted by Tazok, almost all of it comes from the tainted source in Nashkel. The Sythillisian uprising in Amn has ensured that no forces from that nation will be able to take action against our mercenary forces. However, the Flaming Fist has caught several of the Black Talon mercenaries. All of those captured have claimed allegiance with the Zhentarim and have thus shifted any suspicion away from the Iron Throne. I have sent Tranzig to work with the mercenaries in transporting the iron to your base in Cloakwood. He has brought several bags of holding so that he, alone, will make trips into Cloakwood, thereby lessening the chance that Flaming Fist trackers might find your stronghold._

_Reiltar.  
Elient, 1370_

"So", Jaheira said. "It is as we suspected. The Iron Throne disrupted the iron trade, trying to gain control of the market, putting the blame on the Zhentarim."

"No wonder Xzar and Montaron were interested", Rini said. "And what an utter bastard that Reiltar seems to be!" 

"So he is", Yeslick nodded. "And a clever one, at that." 

"Well, we'll soon find out just how clever he is. Once we've freed the slaves, we'll flood the mine. Then we'll head to Baldur's Gate as soon as possible." The bard tossed the small key she'd found on Davaeorn's body into the air. "I'm really going to enjoy spoiling Reiltar's plans, I think." 

"Excuse me, lady". It was the xvarts leader, tugging on her leg, his surviving companions close behind him. The little blue men were crowding close around the ankles of the adventurers, making Softpaws hiss and leap onto her mistress' shoulder. "That was a xvarts of a fight, wasn't it? Very xvartsing."

"Um…yes. I suppose so." 

"So, I was just thinking… Could we perhaps have the bad nasty old xvartsing wizard's head as reward for helping out? We'd like to bring it home to the village for the victory party, it will be such a xvarts of a good time!"

Rini thought about it for a moment. "Well", she said, "it would keep him from being resurrected, I suppose. And you were very helpful. Be my guest." 

"YAAAAAYYYY!" all the xvarts screamed again, and then they swarmed all over Davaeorn, singing that same sickly sweet tune. 

"I think we're better off not looking too closely", Zaerini told her friends. "Let's see if we find any other useful things down here. And then we have a mine to flood."


	36. Tricks and Tantrums

**In The Cards 36 – Tricks and Tantrums**

_One of the things I have in common with my brother is the way we react when we get seriously pissed off. Namely with a tendency to scream, curse and break things. And 'things' in this case includes furniture, armies, dragons and would-be gods._

_Excerpt from 'Ruminations Of A Master Bard'_

Davaeorn's abode held both gold and jewels, as well as several nice spell scrolls. But perhaps more importantly, it also held his apprentice, a pale and trembling youth who looked ready to soil himself as the adventurers came upon him. "You...you killed Davaeorn?", he squealed. "Oh...please don't kill me! Please oh please oh PLEASE! I'm just his apprentice, I swear! I don't know anything! OK I know a little, but I was only his student! Honest! I can...I can help you! Yeah, I can give you information! Ask me something! Go on, ask me anything!"

Zaerini raised her eyebrows. "Anything?" she asked. "All right then. What is your name?"

"Er…Stephan, but…"

"What is your purpose here?"

"I told you, I'm just Davaeorn's apprentice! I studied under him, and that's it! I didn't know anything about anything! Well, I know a little, but just ask and I'll tell you!"

"And now for the really important questions", the bard said, her voice lowering to a purr. "What were the Iron Throne doing here in this mine? What did Davaeorn tell you of his plans? And what do you know of his immediate superiors?"

The young man was trembling by now. "The mine? Um...I...I think they were going to try and look like the saviors of the day, riding in with their stores of iron to equip the troops, or something like that. With the bandit raids and the rumors about Amn, the Iron Throne figured that the Dukes of Baldur's Gate would think they needed arms and ore quickly in case of Amnish attack. They...they figured they could get exorbitant prices, or better yet, sanctions against competitors and an easing of trade laws for themselves only. A quick way to install themselves as an underground power on the coast. That's all I know about it, I swear!" He paused to draw breath. 

"Davaeorn ran this place for the regional bosses in Baldur's Gate. They used some strange potion to taint iron already stored, used Mulahey to keep new ore from being mined, and had the bandits raid any incoming trading caravans. It doesn't take long for perceived shortages to embellish real threats. You know all of this if you are the one who killed Mulahey. And his superiors…I honestly don't know much about them! All I can say is that the regional leaders of the Iron Throne placed Davaeorn here! There are three of them, I think, but I don't know their names! Davaeorn was getting orders from someone else too, he complained about it a lot, but he never said a name or anything to me! Honest! The main building for the Iron Throne is in Baldur's Gate, somewhere in the south west of the city, but I have never been there! I tell you true! Can I please go?"

"Get out of here", the half-elf said with a cold smile. "And you'd better run fast too, if you value your hide at all."

"You would let him go?" Edwin asked, as Stephan ran off, sobbing violently. He sounded a little disapproving. "How do you know he won't try to ambush us?"

"I don't. But he's such a little wretch, I just couldn't bring myself to harm him. Besides, I doubt he's any threat to the six of us." 

The adventurers found a hidden elevator that quickly brought them back to the top level of the mine, and they wasted no time in finding the slave they had spoken to earlier concerning the river plug. Apparently, Rill had already passed this way, bribing his way past the guard captain with the money Rini had given him earlier, and then freeing the slaves. This one man had remained behind in order to help deal with the plug. 

"Well, this is it", the bard said as she hauled out the key she had found on Davaeorn's body. "Once the plug opens, everybody had better be ready to run real fast." Then she noticed Yeslick's mournful look. "Yeslick? What's wrong?"

"Oh, nothing", the old dwarf sighed. "It's just…look, lass, may I do this deed myself? This was my mine, and the home of my kin, if anybody should bring this doom upon her it feels right that it should be me."

"Of course", Rini said, handing the dwarf the key. "You go ahead. And…I'm sorry."

"That's all right. It needs to be done." The dwarf inserted the key into the lock, muttering quietly to himself as he twisted it back and forth. And then the plug opened, and the water burst forth, exploding into the tunnel like a living being. The adventurers ran before it, the frothing water hot on their heels, only just barely able to make it out of the tunnel before the flood caught up with them. Zaerini was the last one out, and as she scrambled up the final ladder leading out of the mine, she drew a deep sigh of relief. _Finally_ she thought. _I can do without any more stress today_. Then she emerged into the glaring daylight, only to face a very unwelcome sight indeed. 

Her companions were standing in a sort of semi-circle, looking rather apprehensive. There was good reason for this too, considering that they had a crossbow pointed at them, as well as a very nasty-looking wand. The massive fists of the large zombie didn't improve matters either. _Oh no!_ Zaerini thought. _Not these guys again! Honestly, how do they manage to turn up everywhere? They're like a bad joke! Or a plague._

Xzar's grotesquely tattooed face was split by a wide grin, something that didn't make him look the least bit reassuring. "Hello, hello, hello, my pretty!" he said, giggling. "Aren't you a welcome sight! We've been looking everywhere for you."

"Yes", Montaron growled, slowly moving his crossbow back and forth as if he were trying to aim at everybody at once. "Ever since you trapped us in that stinking latrine pit after making our own bloody zombie almost kill us."

"Urrgh", Abduh said, looking as abashed as a zombie could. Not having functional blood, he couldn't blush, but he did scrape his toes quite a great deal and stared at the ground. 

"Don't talk like that to Abduh", Xzar admonished, waggling his finger at Montaron. "You'll hurt his feelings."

"Feelings? WHAT feelings? He's a zombie, not some little princess!"

"He's a good boy and he tries his best. And if you're mean to him, I'll make sure the…the rabbits hear of it. Yesssss…. The rrrrrabbitsssss…."

"Er…excuse me?" Imoen said with a winning smile. "I can see you're real busy and all, so maybe we could just leave."

"URRRRGHHH!"

"Forget it, squirt!" Montaron scowled darkly. "You lot have cost us a great deal in time, money, and not to mention pain. We're not going anywhere until we get some repayment, and neither are you."

"That's right!" Xzar giggled, his eyes glittering enthusiastically. "Pay…day…Payday! Oooh, that's nice! Steady pay, every day. And we pay…and pay…and pay. I once worked as a combined babysitter and House Wizard for the Great Old Ones Under The Sea, did I ever tell you that?"

"Nooo…", Zaerini said in a very careful voice. "I don't think you did." But I have a feeling you will.

"Oh, it was grand, it was! Such sweet little tykes they were too - tasted great on toast!" He leered. "Those were the Small Young Ones of course, and there were millions and millions of them. Their parents never missed them, so many die before they hatch. But the others…oh yes, the others…they grow, and they grow, and they spawn more and more, and they will DEVOUR THE EARTH AND ALL WHO WALK UPON IT! AYE, THEIR SEED IS STRONG AND THEIR SCALES ARE BRIGHT AND SHINY!"

"That sounds a bit like fish", Edwin remarked.

Xzar calmed down and his face took on a slightly sulky expression. "Maybe to some people lacking in insight. But I know better." He twirled his wand between his fingers and pouted.

_So if the Great Old Ones are fish, then the Small Young Ones would have to be…great. Just great. I'm conversing with a man who's boasting about having babysat caviar._

"Lass?" Yeslick said, sounding very concerned. "Do you…do you know these people?"

The bard sighed. "Not as such. We just seem to run into each other."

"URRRGHHH!"

"Oh, except for Abduh there. Him I've hated since childhood. Mind you, he's grown both more dashing and more articulate lately."

"Uuurghh?"

"Oh yes. Most definitely. Would I lie to you?"

"Urrrggghhh…" Abduh said and scratched his head, clearly deep in thought. 

"Enough!" Montaron snarled. "We know ye've been inside the mine, and we know ye've got information we need about the Iron Throne. Ye're going to give it to us, or die painfully and slowly, and don't think I'm not tempted to kill ye first and ask questions later. The wizard may be mad, but he's a good necromancer so it could be arranged." Khalid moaned quietly and turned an interesting shade of gray that almost matched Abduh.

"Oh, I am, I really am", Xzar said in a silky voice, batting his eyelashes at Rini in a very disturbing manner. "I could flay you, and drain you of blood, and stitch you up with these tiny pretty little stitches I know, and you'd be the loveliest little zombie imaginable."

"Try it", Edwin said in a dangerous voice, "and I'll flay you and make boots out of your mottled hide. And then I'll sell them to the person with the smelliest feet I can find."

"Not now!" Zaerini hissed and nudged the Red Wizard. "They've got the upper hand." Then she turned to Xzar again. "Thanks, I'll pass", she said in her driest voice. "Just ask your questions."

"Right", Montaron said. "Is it the Throne that's behind the mine scam and the bandit raids?"

"Yes, it is", Rini said. She twirled a lock of her flame-red hair absentmindedly around her finger, as if she were concentrating deeply. "They set it all up. Oh, and I almost forgot…they're blaming it all on the Zhentarim." 

"That's not fair!" Xzar complained loudly, shaking his head. "Just because we're Zhents that doesn't mean we're behind everything bad in the Realms!"

"No?" Jaheira asked.

"Oh no. Not the strange and mysterious Turnip Field Circles, at least. And definitely not those people who disappear for days and claim to have been abducted by elves." He lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "I wouldn't mind getting abducted by elves myself. Sounds like fun, with all those strange…experiments…"

"The Iron Throne in Baldur's Gate is led by a man named Reiltar", Zaerini said helpfully. "He's the one in charge of the entire operation, him and his son Sarevok." 

"Sarevok?"

"Yes. Big guy, glowing eyes, really hideous spiky armor. You'll know him once you see him. I think he's been having a barrel of laughs over how he's set you Zhents up, at least that's what I heard. But I could be wrong, I guess. Maybe he's a really nice guy."

"Ha!" Montaron sneered. "We'll see about that when we meet him." He bared his teeth in what he no doubt meant to be a sinister smile. It made him look like he had a severe bellyache. "Nobody sets the Zhentarim up and gets away with it. I'll be wearin' Sarevok's guts for garters before the month ends."

"Right", Zaerini said, trying very hard to suppress the image of the halfling thief in garters. "Best of luck to you. Can we go now?"

"Hmpf", Montaron said. "I suppose. Rightfully we should kill ye all, but I suppose we owe ye one. Don't even think of trying to trick us though."

"Trick you? I wouldn't dream of it."

"Byyyeee!" Xzar giggled, waving. "Have fun now, don't forget to write, remember to wear your warm socks when it's raining and never to let the rabbits know your True Name. Never, you hear me?" He snapped his fingers under Abduh's nose. "Come on, boy. Heel!" The zombie obediently trailed after him, and after a few moments Montaron followed with a final, warning scowl.

"Do you think they actually have a chance to kill Sarevok?" Imoen asked once the trio were no longer able to hear her.

"Are you kidding?" Zaerini said, her golden eyes sparkling with mischief. "He'll flatten them in two seconds, and it's no more than they deserve for threatening us. But if by any slim chance they should be able to get to him, then I still win." She grinned widely. "And serve Big Brother right too, for sending all those stupid assassins after me. Let's see how amusing he thinks it is to get plagued by fools." 

The adventurers made camp in the forest near the Cloakwood Mines, that night, unwilling to start the journey back towards Beregost before they'd had the chance to rest. _And where do we go from there, I wonder?_ Zaerini thought. _Baldur's Gate seems the obvious choice…but there was that Reading I did. I can't help but wonder…_

Eventually the half-elven bard fell asleep, her eyelids fluttering nervously as she found herself caught within a dream. One of those dreams. 

Blood. There was blood all around her, a massive, raging river, as great a flood as that which had drenched the mines. It tossed her helplessly here and there, like a drifting leaf, it roared in her ears like thunder. And it smelled. That smell… It was the smell as she had known it when it led her to Davaeorn, the smell of fresh blood that had betrayed the wizard, leading her to him, to her prey. It enflamed her senses, it made her heart beat faster and it made her bare her teeth unconsciously in a snarl. _The blood…I need it. I want it. I must have it._

The river of blood spread and widened, she could tell that much. Soon it would cover the entire world. It tossed houses and trees aside, it overturned the very mountains and turned the seas a deep, dark red. 

OF COURSE, DAUGHTER. MURDER, LIKE BLOOD, IS EVERYWHERE. AMONG RICH AND POOR, NOBLE AND COMMONER. IT LURKS IN EVERY MAN AND WOMAN'S HEART. AND IN YOURS TOO.

"No", Rini moaned. "No…go away. I don't want this. I don't want you."

BUT YOU DO, DEAR DAUGHTER. YOU DO. DID YOU THINK I WOULD NOT SENSE IT AS YOUR POWERS GREW? YOU ARE GROWING STRONGER, AND AS YOU DO THE THIRST FOR MURDER AWAKENS WITHIN YOU. STRUGGLE AS YOU WISH, IN THE END IT WILL OVERCOME YOU.

"No! It won't! I don't want it! Not like that!"

REALLY? AND WHAT IF THE POWER TO DO MURDER HAD BEEN WITH YOU EARLIER? WHAT IF IT HAD BEEN WITH YOU…ON THE DAY YOUR GORION DIED? 

Images of Sarevok danced across the waves of blood, raising his terrible sword again and again, mercilessly cutting through the bent figure of the old mage whom she had loved like a father. "NO! Gorion! Leave him alone, you bastard! Leave me alone!" 

Her sire's voice chuckled, a cold and horrible sound. SO, YOU SEE, YOU DO WANT MURDER AFTER ALL. ISN'T THAT INTERESTING…THIS FLOOD IS CAUSED BY YOU, DAUGHTER. BY YOU AND YOUR SIBLINGS, SLAUGHTERING YOUR WAY ACROSS THE REALMS. YOU ARE JUST LIKE THE REST OF THEM. ACCEPT IT AND SERVE ME. ONLY THAT WAY LIES PEACE. ONLY THAT WAY LIES ACCEPTANCE.

And then, just as her sire's words almost got through to her, there was a soothing voice inside her head. _Don't listen to him, kitten. He's lying._ Softpaws stood on the sea of blood, walked across the waves as easily as if they'd been a smooth floor, her black fur neat and unruffled. _Kitten, you don't want murder itself. You just want the ability to kill when you have to, like any good cat does. There's a difference._

WHAT? YOU LITTLE GNAT! GET AWAY FROM HERE!

_You are dead_ , the cat said. _Cats don't fear what's dead and gone. You will leave my kitten be unless you want me to play with your bones._

_Softy! What are you doing?! You can't fight him!_

_Of course I can, kitten. And so can you. The only power he has here is the one you let him have. Now come join me. It is time you came into your own._

NO! SHE IS MINE, YOU ANNOYING PEST! MINE! The river of blood tore at the struggling half-elf, attempting to pull her under. 

_Softy! Help me!_

_Come to me, kitten. Come to me now. Reach inside, find what you know is there. You are no mouse to be played with by the likes of him. You are a cat, as I have taught you. And cats hunt._

And there was something inside her, hidden deep within her soul. A shining, glittering ball of red light, spinning rapidly, shifting shape as she watched it. All she had to do was touch it…

NO! YOU CANNOT DO THIS! IT…IT IS NOT PART OF THE GAME!

…touch it…and…change. 

Zaerini shot up out of the river of blood, feeling heat radiating from her very skin. She walked across the raging waves on four good paws, never in danger of losing her balance. Flames shot out from her paws as walked, dancing across the waves and keeping them at bay. They were almost as red as her fur, she noticed. She hissed, raising a paw to let needle-sharp claws slide out, batting at the invisible presence in front of her. While she couldn't actually destroy it, it was still shaken, still disturbed by her actions. It fled, retreating into the darkness, drawing the blood after it. The red cat hissed once more after the creature, and then delicately licked her paw. There was blood on her fur, and she wanted it off. 

_Yes, kitten_ , her mother/friend said, her green eyes proud within her beautiful black face. _You have done well. Now come with me. It is time we went back._

Zaerini yawned widely, holding off the moment when she had to open her eyes. The dream had been unpleasant enough, she really wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep, but something told her she couldn't just yet. So, she yawned, and stretched, extending all four legs until she almost felt her joints crack, unfurling her tail proudly and spreading her whiskers. _Wait a second. Four legs? Tail? WHISKERS?_

_Of course, kitten_ , Softpaws said, sounding very smug. _I told you that you were about to come into your own, didn't I? And you look absolutely lovely too_. Softpaws was standing in front of her, staring into her face with amused green eyes, looking just as usual. And yet there was something very wrong with the entire picture this presented, since she herself was standing upright by now and there was no way her cat could be at eye-level with her unless…

_I'm a cat_ Rini thought, her mind almost stunned with disbelief as she stared at the red fur of her paws, then twisted her head around to catch sight of the tail arching high from her behind. Moving it about caused the oddest sensation, and yet she seemed to do it without even thinking about it. _I'm…a cat?!_

_Very good, kitten. I thought you'd never notice._

_But…but I can't be a cat!_

_Why not? Cats are the most perfect of creatures, and you make a very pretty one._

_But…_

_Oh, don't worry. It's a temporary thing. You can change back later._

_Are you sure?_

_Certainly. Don't worry, I won't let a thing like this keep you from your mate._

_My what?_

For a moment the black cat almost seemed to snigger. _Come now, kitten. Why don't we take a little walk around camp, to get you used to that lovely new body of yours? There are all sorts of benefits to being a cat, you know…_

Once she had got used to walking on four legs rather than two, Zaerini came to the conclusion that her familiar was right. It was fun being a cat, though she tried not to think too hard about just how she was going to turn herself back again. For one thing, she could walk very silently, her paws making no sound whatsoever as she slipped across the ground. _Bet Immy would love this_. Then there was the way her senses worked. True, as a half-elf she had very good hearing and eyesight, as well as a keen sense of smell, but they were nothing against those of the cat she had become. 

The night was filled with a thousand voices, little creatures moving everywhere. She heard the tiniest rustle in the leaves, and even the slightest movement in the deep shadows was enough to attract her attention. And the smells…she was feeling almost drunk on the smells, dizzy, as if she couldn't quite control herself. When she mentioned this to Softpaws the other cat sounded rather indulgent. _You are a kitten. You aren't used to this yet. You will be, in time, but right now you should amuse yourself._

And she did. She climbed trees she never would have dared attempting in her normal form, she crept invisible through the shadows, she drank in the night with every breath she took. Her tail was still a little bit of a distraction though. She had to concentrate really hard in order not to start chasing it, and she knew that her familiar would never let her live that down. 

Eventually the black cat turned back towards the camp. _We should go back now_ , she said. _There's another cat experience you really have to try._

_Oh? What's that?_

_You'll see, kitten. You'll see…_

Softpaws led the way towards the campfire, and Rini followed. She wasn't sure what was up, but she trusted her familiar implicitly. That is, until she saw just who currently had the watch and was sitting by the fire staring into the darkness. 

_What's wrong?_ Softpaws asked. 

_Are you kidding? I can't go out there! That's Edwin._

_So?_

_So, suppose he sees me like this!_

_Of course he'll see you. He just won't know it's you. Now come on!_

Full of trepidation the red cat followed her black companion into the circle of light, keeping a few paces behind her. Edwin turned his head as Softpaws approached, looking a little surprised. "Oh, it's you", he said. "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be keeping an eye on your mistress?"

The black cat made a small noise that Zaerini could recognize as the cat equivalent of suppressed laughter, but that Edwin was obviously oblivious to. She carefully edged a little closer, dreading for the wizard to spot her but at the same time hoping that he would. And then he did, and he gave her a curious look that somehow made her heart race faster. "Well, hello there", he said. "You're new. A wildcat, I take it?" He smiled slightly at Softpaws. "Found yourself some male companionship, perhaps? (Some creatures have it easy.)"

_Male? MALE! How dare he! I'll personally scratch his eyes out if he doesn't start using them!_

Edwin must have noticed the indignant look on the red cat's face, for he suddenly laughed quietly to himself. "My apologies", he said, giving her an ironic half-bow. "Of course you're a lady."

_Why don't you come a little closer, kitten_ , Softpaws said. _If you did, he wouldn't make that mistake again._

_Well…maybe._ She carefully walked a little closer. The wizard was stretching out his hand towards her now, and surely it couldn't hurt to let him touch her, cats liked that sort of thing after all, at least when they were in the mood, and she was in the mood, and…and then he touched her fur. 

For a moment Rini thought her entire body had caught fire, and she could feel herself nudging her currently small head into the wizard's hand, and now he stroked her all the way from her neck to her tail and…and…

She was on his lap by now, and she had no idea how she had wound up there, and he was petting her all over, slow steady strokes that were just right, and she could feel her paws pushing at him as if she were trying to tread through him, and she was tingling, even to the tips of her ears and tail. And now she was somehow on her back, and he was rubbing the soft fur on her belly, and her paws were flailing quite helplessly in the air, but somehow she didn't mind, since it felt so right, and as she turned she arched her back to get closer to that wonderful touch, and get more, and more, and more. _Pleasedon'tstop, pleasedon'tstop, pleasedont'stop…_ That was all she was able to think of. 

Vaguely she could hear him speaking to her, telling her what a beautiful cat she was, but she couldn't quite comprehend the words any longer, the touch was all that mattered. That divine touch. And the voice. That perfectly hypnotic voice. And he stroked her beneath the chin, and behind her ears, and then her back once more, and she was all fire, burning and burning and unable to stop. There was another sound, a deep rumbling sound, somewhere deep inside of her. _I'm purring?_

She was uncertain how long it had been going on. Minutes? Hours? Years? She didn't care. All she knew was that she never wanted it to end, ever. And then…and then suddenly she felt something inside of her, something that wanted her attention, and she tried to make it go away, not wanting to be distracted, but it wouldn't let go and she felt herself twist inside and…change…

Zaerini slowly came back to herself, only vaguely aware of where she was since her body was still sending her all sorts of distracting sensations. Closing her eyes in order not to get too dizzy she tried to concentrate. She was sitting on something, her arms wrapped around something. So far so good. _I have arms again? That's a start. Now where am…_

As the bard opened her eyes, she wasn't quite able to hold back a shocked gasp. She was, in fact, sitting exactly where she had been a moment ago. On Edwin's lap, that was. With her arms wrapped around his waist and one of his hands still resting on her hair. The wizard was staring at her as if he had just seen a ghost, his dark eyes almost as wide as saucers. "You…", he managed. "I…how…that was **you**?"

"I…", the bard stammered. "I…I didn't mean to…I mean…it was an accident!"

_Didn't look all that accidental to me, kitten._

_You knew didn't you? You knew my enhanced senses would rob me of all dignity, since I wasn't used to them?_

_Maybe_. Softpaws' voice still sounded incredibly smug. _You seemed a little tense earlier. I just thought you could use a really good petting, that's all. And remember, once you've marked him as yours you'll be able to enjoy that whenever you want…_

-*-

"Come on, Rini, do it again! Please?" Imoen's eyes were sparkling with eagerness and her cheeks were flushed. "Pleeeease?" 

Zaerini sighed. Her friend had been nagging her nonstop for the past ten minutes, and a nagging Imoen was very hard to resist. "All right", the half-elven bard said. "Just once. I'm getting a bit tired, you know. I don't think I can keep it up indefinitely." Once more she shapeshifted, turning into the new form the essence of her dead sire had provided for her. Fur sprouted, tail emerged, and claws took the place of nails. Where the bard had stood there now stood a cat with bright red fur, shining golden eyes and a proud bearing. 

Imoen immediately squealed with delight and pounced on the cat, scooping her up in her arms and burying her face in the soft fur. "Oh Rini! You look so cute, you have no idea!" She held up the wildly struggling feline for all her companions to see. "Don't you all think she's the cutest kitty ever?" 

"Oh yes", Jaheira said, looking very amused. "Very cute. However, I think you are lucky to be wearing leather. She will not keep those claws sheathed for long." 

"Y-y-yes", Khalid said, giving the spitting and hissing cat a very nervous look. "Don't you think you'd better put her down?"

"In a minute", Imoen replied, cuddling the red cat a little closer as the animal made furious screeching noises like a knife being dragged across a plate. "She's such a sweet little fuzzy thing, I just wanna pet her a little more!" 

"'tis a good thing there are two healers present", Yeslick muttered to Jaheira. "That lass is gonna need every spell we've got if she keeps saying things like that."

The druid nodded. "I would say only their close friendship has kept her face intact so far, but if I were her, I would not push it." 

"Aw, come on", Imoen said, struggling not to let go of the cat. "Don't tell me you all don't wanna cuddle her? A cute little kitty like her? Eddie? How about you?"

The Red Wizard kept staring at the red cat, his eyes very large in his face. The cat was sounding like water being spilt on a hot stove by now. "What?" he croaked out. "Me? No! I mean…I prefer keeping my eyes intact, thank you very much!"

"Aw, come on! I know you want to. Don't you think she's pretty? You wouldn't want to hurt her feelings, would ya?" 

Edwin was looking almost as trapped as the cat by now, and as he met the animal's flaming eyes his cheeks turned as red as his own robe. "I…I…that is…under the circumstances…and speaking only in the capacity of a neutral consultant…I suppose she is a reasonably attractive feline, yes. Why do you ask? (What is she up to? She speaks very strangely, as if meaning something else than the obvious.)"

"Oh, no reason." Imoen's mischievous grin widened and she suddenly thrust the furious cat into the wizard's arms. "Just wanted to make sure I could trust you with her. Here ya go!" 

Edwin made a small strangled noise as he found himself holding the red cat gingerly. He automatically placed his hand beneath her rear to keep her steady, and then he looked about ready to faint as he realized what he was doing. The cat slowly turned her head and gave him a long, hard look, and the wizard hastily put her down on the ground, trying not to look at her and failing miserably. 

Zaerini shifted back into her normal form, her face furious. "IMOOOOEEEEN!" she screeched, her voice taking on the exact same note it had as a cat. "I'll get you for that!"

"Oops!" Imoen grinned, running off as fast as her legs could carry her with her raging sister close behind. "See you guys in a while…"

The remaining adventurers looked at each other, apart from Edwin who was still looking rather stunned. 

"I suppose", Jaheira said, "the subject of catnip will not be a welcome one at this point."

"N-n-no", Khalid agreed. From a distance away they could hear loud crashes and a large cloud of green smoke suddenly flared up over the treetops like a giant mushroom. "I g-g-uess not." 

"That lass sure has a hot temper", Yeslick said, and yet another loud bang punctuated his words. A couple of trees seemed to be on fire by now. "Too hot for many to handle. Don't ye agree, wizard?"

"Huh?" Edwin said, still staring in the direction the bard had disappeared. "What? No! Not at all. She was acting perfectly reasonable under the….under the circumstances." He was staring at his own hands as if he was seeing them for the first time. "(I can't believe I did that. She'll kill me for touching her in…in that way. Still, it was worth it…) And…and anyway I think that everybody is allowed a charming and enchanting little quirk or two." Then he suddenly seemed to notice the presence of the others. "Er…that is…even otherwise hopelessly obnoxious barbarian Bhaalspawn, I meant. Yes. Yes, that's what I meant. You do understand that, don't you?" He looked pathetically desperate to be convincing. 

"Oh, of course, Edwin", Jaheira said with a small snicker. "Of course."

Meanwhile, in the City of Baldur's Gate, another Child of Bhaal was also having what could best be described as a temper tantrum. "She did WHAT?!" Sarevok screamed at the top of his lungs, making ghouls and ghasts tremble even in the farthest reaches of the Undercity. "She destroyed my MINE?!"

"So it seems", Winski Perorate said, brushing some of the grit that had just landed on him off his clothes. "That is what my scrying indicates. And could you please try to lower your voice a little? I don't know how stable this place is, and I'd really rather not have the entire roof brought down on me."

The place in question was an abandoned old temple of Bhaal, situated far below the city. Dark and gloomy, decorated with a theme of skulls and bones and with deadly traps hidden everywhere, it rather suited Winski's temper. Sarevok liked it too, but more its grandiosity and pomp, not to mention the huge and rather hideously ugly golden throne placed on a large dais at one end. Perhaps it had once been meant for Bhaal's own divine buttocks, but Sarevok reasoned that it suited him far, far better. He was sitting on it at the moment, his face contorted with fury, and he'd managed to squeeze the armrests into unrecognizable metal lumps. "AAAAARRRRRGHHHH!" Sarevok screamed, making Winski wince a little as even more grit fell from the roof, along with a few rocks. "She is doing it again! First the Nashkel mines, now this! She's ruining everything!" He got to his feet and slammed his fist into the wall. "Everything is her fault! Everything, I tell you! She gets in my way, is a constant annoyance, and now she breaks my mine? It is intolerable!" * Wham * He slammed his fist into the wall again. 

"Yes", Winski agreed, "we really must get her out of the way. The girl is rapidly becoming a serious threat. It's obvious those assassins we've employed so far haven't been good enough. How about Slythe and his wife Krystin? They're excellent."

"NO!" * Wham * "We need them here, you know that." * Wham * "To deal with the Grand Dukes, and the other targets in the City." * Wham * 

The wizard sighed impatiently. "Then perhaps you can come up with a better candidate? Though I should warn you, it could take you some time. You aren't likely to find a Master Assassin hanging about the house, waiting to be employed." 

"Then I'll deal with her myself", Sarevok snarled. * Wham * “It is past the time. She will not be able to stand against me, and I'll take great pleasure in wringing her bratty little neck." * Wham* The large warrior leapt off the dais with the grace of a springing lion, a grace all the more apparent since he for once wasn't wearing his favorite armor. Winski had pointed out that he really preferred seeing the face of a person he was conversing with, and Sarevok had grudgingly obliged him though he clearly stated that he didn't like it. 

"Shall I go with you to help you locate her?" Winski asked.

"No. I'll find her myself." Sarevok's eyes were glowing like windows into Hell as his lips pulled back in a terrible smile. "We have a…connection. My sire has shown it to me. She is close to me, closer than any of my other siblings. She cannot hide from me. I will seek my little sister out, I will find her, and then I will destroy her. She is mine, and her death will burn brightly in my heart as I ascend to my Throne." He laughed, a deep and booming laugh, and clenched his fist in front of his face. Then he winced and looked just a little sheepish. 

"Well?" Winski asked. "I thought you were off to kill, maim and destroy?"

"I…I am", Sarevok muttered. "Just as soon as I've seen a healer. I seem to have broken most of my finger bones. I knew I should have been wearing my armor…"


	37. Two Towers

**In The Cards 37 – Two Towers**

_The Tower means change of circumstance or location, usually with a negative implication. It implicates loss, death, despair and misery. When you see the Tower, expect unforeseen problems, and to be moved from the frying pan into the fire._

_Excerpt from 'The Chaltar Deck Of Cards - An Introduction'_

In the bustling city of Baldur’s Gate, on one of the top floors of the gloomy and imposing tower that made up the Iron Throne’s headquarters, lay Reiltar Anchev’s study. Within this study a certain assassin reflected, not for the first time, that some aspects of his profession were far more tedious than most people would imagine. 

‘And the aforementioned Reiltar Anchev will receive the area known as 'Sweetwater' in return for the payment of 30000 gold to Count Turnipsome…’

Dekaras shook his head and put the contract back inside the drawer where he'd found it. While hardly an expert on real estate, the assassin reasoned that he'd think twice before doing business with anybody calling himself 'Count Turnipsome'. It was a name that practically screamed 'alias'. Even worse, Reiltar was apparently buying this 'Sweetwater' place without ever having actually seen it. Dekaras had a feeling the man was in for a bad disappointment. Not that he was about to point that out, of course. Anybody out to scam Reiltar Anchev would receive his silent blessing, if not his active help.

The assassin looked about the empty office he'd been sent to tidy up and decided that Reiltar Anchev actually had worse taste than his stepson Sarevok. Just about every piece of furniture was gilded in order to display the wealth and power of the Iron Throne. It wasn't particularly attractive. _I have never seen anything quite this gaudy, not even in Thay_ , Dekaras thought. _Wish I could have a picture painted of it. That ought to be enough to discourage Elvira from getting that diamond-studded writing desk she's been talking about. No, who am I trying to fool? She would probably just decide to go with rubies instead…_

Dekaras decided that he'd spent enough time in here for the moment. He couldn't risk taking too long or people might start to wonder what the supposed 'servant' called Jacen Bron was up to. No doubt he'd get another chance at Reiltar's papers before long. The only problem was that there were so many of them, and there was no way for him to know which ones were important. So far, he hadn't come across anything particularly interesting apart from gaining some further understanding of the inner workings of the Iron Throne. Reiltar was apparently the leader of this part of the organization and could run it more or less the way he liked, though he still had superiors to report to. 

There were several people mentioned here and there who weren't easily accounted for, however. Sarevok for one. On the surface he was Reiltar's son and second in command, carrying out his wishes. However, when you knew what else he was, his role became much more sinister. Sarevok seemed to be involved with a lot of people, and Dekaras strongly suspected that it wasn't for the purpose of increasing the price of iron. Then there was the fact that Sarevok had several subordinates reporting directly to him and not employed for the Throne's regular schemes. The mage, Winski, took orders from Reiltar as well, though more rarely these days. And there was a woman as well, Tamoko, who so far was only a name. Her role was even more unclear. A definite pattern was emerging, and Dekaras wondered that Reiltar couldn't see it himself. Sarevok was building an organization within the organization, and one that was loyal to him personally. The question was just what he intended to do with it. 

The assassin was still pondering this as he exited Reilar's office and made his way downstairs. As he did, he ran into the Head Butler, Simeon Sorles. The man was looking rather twitchy, and he kept wiping his bald head with a dainty lace handkerchief. "Oh, Bron!" he said. "Lucky you're here, I need you upstairs in the 'Mask' meeting room. The Gentlemen are having an important conference, and I need somebody to attend to them. No food, so you should be able to handle it on your own. Just coffee and so on, and besides serving they'll be wanting you to handle a few other little mattes as well. Discreetly, mind you. You can do that, can't you?"

"Certainly, sir", Dekaras said with a thin smile. "You may count on me."

Apart from the 'Mask' meeting room the third floor of the Iron Throne compound also held the 'Mystra', 'Malar', 'Mielikki' and 'Milil'. Dekaras had no idea why they were called this, since there wasn't the slightest detail about them reminiscent of the gods in question. Probably some idiot had decided it was a 'cute' theme to go with. The 'Mask' room looked just the same as the others. It had a conference table in beech, surrounded by several uncomfortable chairs, and the walls were painted a blinding white that reflected the light from the magical lanterns and made your eyes hurt after five minutes. Reiltar was sitting at the head of the table, surrounded by several of his underlings. Dekaras recognized a few of them, including a large and surly man called Bruno and fat merchant named Tuth. _Pity I don't have enough poison for them all_ , he thought as he silently served the coffee. _I could have taken out much of the western branch of the Iron Throne in a single blow if I'd only known. But on the other hand, Sarevok is much more important._

Winski entered the room next, nodding briefly at Reiltar before sitting down at the other end of the table. He was still dressed in uniform black, Dekaras noticed. _At least somebody around here has some taste_. The assassin had been trying not to look to hard at Reiltar. The Iron Throne leader was a powerfully built man with a hard face and gray hair, and icy blue eyes. He was also currently wearing a particularly ugly purple jacket, almost as repugnant as it was fashionable among the nobles of the city. From the contemptuous look Winski gave it, it was obvious that he didn't fancy it much either. 

The wizard was closely followed by a beautiful woman with the slanted eyes and olive skin of a Kara-Turan, her thick black hair done up in a braid that swept across her back as she walked. She had the light and confident step of a trained warrior, and Dekaras thought it likely that she was well versed in the use of the curved sword she carried. Her dark eyes scanned the room rapidly, displaying no emotion. _Another dangerous one. Tamoko, unless I'm very much mistaken. Sarevok knows how to choose his allies, it seems._

"What are you doing here?" Reiltar asked with a sneer. "I sent for my son, not for his whore."

The woman's face hardened just a little bit, but when she spoke her voice was soft and outwardly calm. "Sarevok asked me to represent him at this meeting", she said, never taking her eyes off Reiltar. "He was obliged to leave the city on urgent business. However, I shall repeat everything that is said here back to him."

"Perhaps you ought to reconsider your phrasing a little, Reiltar", Winski smirked. "Somehow I don't think Sarevok would appreciate you referring to his lover as a 'whore'. And he does get so destructive when he's upset. Of course, she might just decide to kill you herself."

"I'll call her whatever I damn well please", Reiltar growled, but he did look a little worried. "Keep quiet and sit down, both of you. We're just about to begin." He motioned for one of the other people present to step forward. This person was an attractive blonde woman, dressed in very revealing green mage robes and with a hard and brittle edge to her smile. "Cythandria, do your thing." 

The woman nodded and started chanting a spell, whereupon a complicated diagram with many multicolored arrows appeared upon the white wall. 

"Good", Reiltar said. "People, we're here to discuss the Iron Throne's new Vision Statement, and also its new Mission Statement."

"There's a difference?" Winski muttered. "Like between Baator and the Abyss?"

Reiltar frowned but otherwise ignored the wizard. "Now, I was thinking about 'Think Globally, Act Locally'", he said. "As you can clearly see from these graphs the public seems in favor of that one, and it fits our mode of operation." He pointed at the dizzying collection of colored arrows with the air of a man explaining something obvious. "However, I have a few alternatives as well. Such as 'Iron Throne - Here To Help Build A Better World'."

_For you, certainly_ , Dekaras thought. 

"Or perhaps 'The Iron Throne - Merchants Who Care'."

_About filling your coffers._

"Or my own personal favorite 'Iron That Won't Break'."

_No, you merely rust. As I'm sure I will if I'm forced to endure this for too long._

"What's wrong with my suggestion?" Bruno snapped. "'Kill your enemies, laugh at the wailing of their women.' I liked that."

Reiltar tutted. "Public image reasons keep us from using it", he said. "And unfortunately, the same goes for 'Squeeze All The Money You Can From The Customers' that Winski suggested."

The wizard shrugged. "It's what we do", he said. "And people know it."

"Ah, but they don't know it officially. There's a difference. Now let's see if we can get some work done…"

Three hours later the meeting was finally over. Dekaras decided that if there wasn't for the small matter of his infiltration of the Throne he'd have killed Reiltar before the first was past. The man deserved that for making him suffer through this torture. Worse, the whole thing had been entirely pointless since the discussion had been completely centered on that stupid Vision Statement. The assassin saw Winski give Reiltar a murderous glare as he exited the door and privately hoped for the wizard to make the Iron Throne leader burst into flames. No such luck, however. Reiltar had kept his subordinates well supplied with water and coffee, and he'd refused to let anybody exit the room until he said so. Winski seemed to be in too much of a hurry to do more than fume quietly. 

The assassin sighed with exasperation as he cleared the table of cups and glasses and placed them on a tray inside the dumb-waiter. He didn't like wasting his time. Then he suddenly stiffened, his entire demeanor shifting like that of a predator scenting prey. He'd heard something outside the door. Quiet voices suddenly raised in argument. Silent as a ghost he slipped out the door and into the shadows in the hallway outside, until he was well hidden behind a large suit of armor and able to hear and see everything that was going on. The blonde mage, Cythandria, was standing in the middle of the corridor, her hands firmly planted on her hips and with a triumphant look on her pretty face. 

"You might as well give it up", she was saying. "He wants me to be his favored one. And why wouldn't he? I'm by far the most beautiful of the two of us, and why would he want some swordswoman with rough hands and uncouth manners when he can have me? That's like thinking he'd prefer to dress himself in old rags rather than in silk and finest linen. Sarevok deserves the best, and that's me. Sorry to disappoint you." 

Tamoko stood motionless, only the glimmer of hate in her dark eyes hinting at her true emotions. As she slowly put her hand on her sword her black braid slid across her straight back, making a whispering sound like a snake creeping across a floor. "If I truly believed you to be what Sarevok needs, then I might consider letting you touch him", she said. "I love him enough for that. But you are nothing but poison, seeing only the power he may bring you, and not the man himself. You are filth and you lie. Sarevok does not want you." 

Cythandria laughed then, a pretty tinkling laugh. "I pity you, Tamoko", she said. "So naive. You think he doesn't appreciate my company? Then perhaps you can answer me this. Why would he let me, the woman you claim he despises, hold his personal journal in safekeeping for him while he is away? Why me, and not you?"

Tamoko was silent, her face just a little paler than before. 

"Poor, poor Tamoko", Cythandria said with a malicious smile, pushing her bosom out further as she flicked her blond locks back across a shapely white shoulder. "Too unfamiliar with Common to even respond?" And then she shrieked as the Kara-Turan woman grasped her by her robe and slammed her into the wall behind her, pressing the tip of a very sharp sword into her throat. 

"Now you will listen to me", Tamoko said, her voice quiet and deadly. "The only reason I do not slay you where you stand is that Sarevok might disapprove. As long as you serve him faithfully I will not. But take one step out of line and you will die, that I swear. Also, I will not take the diary away from you, unworthy as you are of keeping it. I will simply ask you to keep in mind that on the day I finally kill you I will be there with my Sarevok, helping him make an entry where your fate is described in great detail. You had better not lose it." She threw the other woman to the floor and walked away without looking back, wiping her hands disgustedly. 

Cythandria slowly got to her feet, breathing heavily, and looking extremely upset. Then her face turned determined and she walked off in the other direction, deep in thought. 

_A diary is it?_ Dekaras thought as he stepped out from behind the suit of armor. _Isn't that interesting. No more dull real estate contracts for me, I think I'll find myself some more exciting reading material._

_Elsewhere, in another meeting…_

"So where do we go from here?" Imoen asked, looking curious. 

"I've been thinking about that", Zaerini responded. The party had reached Beregost the night before and taken this opportunity to get a good night's rest. Now she'd gathered her friends together in a private meeting room in order to discuss their options. "The obvious thing to do would be to head to Baldur's Gate. The Iron Throne is there, Sarevok is there, and I'm going to have to deal with both sooner or later." 

"That is true", Jaheira agreed, her green eyes keen and sharp. "But somehow I sense you have another plan in mind."

"Yes. If Baldur's Gate is the obvious place to go right now, then Sarevok surely knows it. He may be somewhat insane, but he's not stupid. And I did that Reading not long ago, remember? It showed me where I need to go."

"No!" Edwin exclaimed, slamming his hand into the table. "You cannot seriously contemplate doing something that insane! Not Durlag's Tower. Anything but that. The place is a deathtrap. (I haven't gone through all of this simply to see her blithely walk to her doom. I will not stand for it.)"

"Oh, come on Eddie", the bard said, flashing a quick grin at the wizard. "It'll be exciting."

"Exciting? Exciting?! Seeing you torn to pieces by some fiendish trap will be exciting?"

"Have some faith in me, why don't you? Anyway, you heard me explain the Reading. If I don't go to Durlag's Tower I will die. I've thought it through, and there doesn't really seem to be much choice. It's the only logical thing to do. I'm going in there."

For some reason this innocent comment only seemed to incense the wizard further. "Logical?" he sputtered. "Logical? Putting yourself in certain mortal peril in order to avoid a possible one is logical? (Now she's doing it too! As if one wasn't bad enough. Between them they'll drive me insane, I'm sure.)"

_What's wrong with him?_

_Oh, I don't know, kitten_ , Softpaws remarked in an innocent voice. _Maybe he just has issues about seeing people he cares about risk their lives._

"Look", Rini said, trying to sound reasonable. "I'm not making this up or anything. My Readings always come true, sooner or later. I have to do this." 

If she'd hoped for this to calm Edwin down, she was disappointed. A multitude of conflicting emotions flickered across the wizard's face, too quickly for her to read. "Yes", he said. "Yes, I see. Of course, you have to. (Such is always the case, isn't it?) I just hope the dead dwarves have all decomposed by now. A deathtrap I can handle, but not a stinking one!"

"Now hold on there!" Yeslick protested. "That's the home of my kin yer speaking of!"

"And your kin can keep it for all I care. From what I've heard of Durlag's Tower their idea of receiving guests means mauling them savagely in a spike trap, then having a monster stomp them to mush, and then setting fire to them. Not the most hospitable place in existence." 

"Aw, try to relax", Rini said, patting the Red Wizard on the arm. Then she bent closer to whisper into his ear, close enough that her lips were almost touching it. "And think of all the lovely treasure waiting for us inside…" 

Edwin's eyes lit up at this. "Treasure?" he said, suddenly sounding eager. He gingerly touched his ear with one hand. "Yes, I'd forgotten about that. Yes, very…very lovely, I'm sure. Very well, I will do as you ask. And after all, the rest of you wouldn't last five minutes in that place without my peerless skills as a mage to assist you." 

"Right", Zaerini said, careful not to smile at this rather endearing display of vanity. "How about the rest of you? What do you think?"

"It will no doubt be dangerous", Yeslick said, "but I do wish to gaze upon the fabled halls of Durlag's Tower."

Jaheria nodded. "The tower itself holds no interest to me", she said. "However, we must do what we can to keep you safe, and if your Reading is clear then I counsel you to follow its advice."

Imoen nodded as well, pink hair bouncing. She looked a little forlorn though. "Yeah, me too I guess", she said. "If that's what you think. I…I just wish we were going to Baldur's Gate straight away instead."

_And this would of course have nothing whatsoever to do with the fact that that's where Adahn said he was going_. "Any particular reason?" Rini asked innocently, happy for this chance to be able to get back at her friend a little over her recent teasing. "Hoping to run into somebody in particular?"

Imoen grinned, looking a little sheepish. "Well…maybe. I just miss him, you know?" She started rummaging inside her pack. "But I'm making this really awesome drawing of him to keep me company while we're apart, d'you wanna see? I think it's going to look almost as hot as the real thing…"

"Maybe later", Zaerini hastily said. If she knew her friend that drawing would probably be pretty daring, probably lacking in the clothing department and not all that fit for everybody's eyes. "Any other opinions? Khalid?"

The half-elven warrior was sitting very stiff, staring in front of him with unseeing eyes. "D-d-d-durlag's T-t-tower…", he moaned between chattering teeth. 

"He will be following you", Jaheria explained. "We both swore an oath, and we intend to keep it. Do we not, Khalid?"

"Ye-yes", Khalid stuttered, almost green in the face by now. "O-of course. Of c-course we will." 

After yet another day of replenishing their supplies the adventurers set out on their journey south. They made their way towards Durlag's Tower without incident, until they could finally see the massive shape of it rear up against the horizon like a giant wart on the landscape. It was an enormous structure, dark and forbidding, with just a few tiny windows surveying the surrounding blighted landscape where no living things grew, staring out at it like unfocused eyes. The Tower itself was rather squat and ugly, Rini thought, but it certainly gave an impression of barely controlled power. As she watched it she felt a shiver run down her spine. _If I don't go to Durlag's Tower I will die. I just hope I won't die despite going there_. She'd gone a little apart from the others in order to try to calm her nerves. So far it hadn't helped much. 

"Regretting the folly of your decision in coming here?" Edwin asked as he came up behind her. "Prepared to come to your senses and do something a little more reasonable, like sticking your head into the maw of a dragon?"

The bard gave him an exasperated look. "You know my reasons for doing this", she said. "It's not some sort of sinister plan created solely to annoy you. I'm just doing the only reasonable and logical thing. You could be a little more supportive."

"I am. I'm trying to make sure I won't be forced to support your corpse on its way to its grave. (And besides I'm tired of people ignoring their personal safety entirely and telling me it's the reasonable thing to do.) Your cards could easily have been wrong. (I hope they were. About this and…other things.) You could try to be a little less obstinate."

"Obstinate? I'm being obstinate? And my cards don't lie. I'll show you. Just you wait." The redhead took out her deck of cards and drew one out at random. It was the Tower, a dark building crumbling to ruin, people falling screaming from its battlements. "See? Get the hint?"

"You could have been using sleight of hand", the wizard protested stubbornly. "And don't tell me you wouldn't do that in order to prove your point."

"I'll show you sleight of hand you…" Then Zaerini interrupted herself. She'd heard something. A clanking sound. Like the footsteps of an armored man. "Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

Two large figures stepped out from behind a large rock, their armor ruddy with a hellish red glow, flaming swords held aloft. As they spotted the two adventurers, they both hissed with pleasure. "Oh", Edwin said in a small voice. "That." 

_No creatures wearing heavy plate-mail should be able to move that fast_ , Rini thought as she and Edwin ran for their lives back towards the rest of the party. _It's not fair_. She just had time to spot the surprised faces of her friends before the two armored figures were upon them. Then all she knew was the song of spells and blade. Jaheira called lightning down from the sky, she and Edwin sent magic missiles, flame and acid arrows at the enemies. Yeslick used the same trick he had back in the Cloakwood Mines, making the two flaming swords wink out of existence. The two magical knights were still dangerous, but no longer quite as deadly, and eventually they went down. 

"Nice welcoming committee", Edwin said with a pointed look at Zaerini. "Yes, I'm sure you'll be perfectly safe here. Do try to explain that 'logic' thing again." 

"Don't be grumpy", Imoen said. "It could have been worse. At least these two guys were nothing compared to…"

Lightning stabbed into the ground like a glowing sword, just a short distance away, accompanied by booming thunder. And then Zaerini felt something, like a prickle at her neck, like a tug at her soul. She turned her head, and there, outlined against the sky on the path they had just descended on their way towards the tower… "Sarevok!" The large warrior raised his sword as if in a mock salute, and even at this distance Rini thought she could see the flash of golden eyes. Then he started walking towards them. "Run!" the bard shouted. "We can't fight him, not here, we're too unprepared! The Tower, head for the Tower!" And then she ran, after making sure that all her friends were following her. 

The dark Tower was getting closer now, and as Rini ran it came to her that maybe it wasn't her running for the Tower. Maybe it was the Tower running to meet her. _If I don't go to Durlag's Tower I will die. Looks like that much was right. I'd have preferred a less dramatic way to prove my point though._

The adventurers raced across the open drawbridge over the dried-out moat, grateful that at least their path wasn't blocked. Behind them they could hear Sarevok's deep and mocking voice, much closer than they would have liked. 

"Why in such a rush, little one?" the warrior called out. "I'm almost starting to think you're trying to avoid me. Come now, stand and face me. You know it's inevitable." 

Zaerini wasted no time in answering. Instead she thundered across the small courtyard in front of the tower, and up to the tall black wooden door, immensely relieved to find it open. Once all her friends were inside, she slammed it shut. She just managed to catch a glimpse of Sarevok, who was even now crossing the drawbridge, heading towards them like some unstoppable avalanche with a sword. A very large, very sharp sword at that. _If I don't go to Durlag's Tower I will die. I just hope that means there's some chance at survival if I do._

And then she spotted the balcony above her, a stone outcropping on the inside of the tower wall, just above the door. "Fireballs!" she screamed to Edwin, pointing. "Quickly!" The wizard stared at her for a moment, and then he caught on. Two orbs of searing flame struck the outcropping directly, exploding with a deafening roar. Large rocks rained down like overly large hailstones, making the adventurers dive for cover as they piled up behind the door. Despite the noise Rini had no trouble hearing Sarevok's frustrated scream of rage as he suddenly found his path blocked, and it was followed by several powerful blows that made the door shake. _Maybe he'll dull his sword at least. I only wish it was his head he was using, then maybe he'd break his neck._ The door held though, braced as it was by a large pile of heavy rocks. Eventually Sarevok's assault subsided into ominous silence. 

"Well", Rini said, her voice rather shaky. "That should keep us safe for the moment."

"Oh yes", Edwin said. "Shut up inside Durlag's Tower with our only exit blocked behind us. Yes, I feel so much safer now." 

"Hey!" a strange voice suddenly interrupted. "What do you morons think you're doing?!" The adventurers slowly turned around to face a skinny man in somber clothing, who was looking very much annoyed. Behind him a group of five more strangers huddled, all of them looking very wide-eyed and worried as they looked at the party. 

"Who…who are you?" Imoen asked. 

"I'm Ike", the stranger said in an irritable voice. "Ike the Guide. And I don't know what your problem is, but I demand compensation for this. Now how are my tourists supposed to get out of here? Not to mention myself. It isn't as if there are any souvenir shops to keep them occupied, they'll grow bored soon and there's nothing as dangerous as bored tourists." The tourists tittered nervously. "I think you ought to pay me…oh…everything you've got, this will really damage my business." 

_If I don't go to Durlag's Tower I will die_ , Rini thought. _Pity the Reading didn't mention the fact that if I do go to Durlag's Tower I will probably commit bloody murder within five minutes of crossing the threshold._

Zaerini looked about the dusty chamber that made up the entrance to the fabled Durlag's Tower. No immense treasures here. No fiendish monsters either, fortunately. Well, unless you counted that annoying tourist guide person. A large central stairway led both up and down into the unknown. Doors led to other rooms in a pattern reminiscent of a spider web, and in front of each one lay a faded yellow carpet. They had once had flower-like patterns, but by now they were so old and rotting that they were almost falling to bits. Apart from that, she couldn't see much of interest except for an old skeleton off near one wall, that had an almost surprised look on its face. "Wonder what happened to that fellow?" she said out loud. 

"Those that passed the wards were confronted with the fruits of the paranoia that CONSUMED Durlag.", Ike said, falling into Tour Guide mode. "In this sitting room alone are some of the most fiendish DEVICES OF DEATH known to man! Upon the wall a picture that, before it was RIPPED from its frame, caused those that looked upon it to freeze in their tracks for ALL TIME! Look with HORROR upon this hapless soul!" The tourists all 'oohed' and 'aaahed'. Ike nodded and pointed to a dusty old chair. "This chair, once sat in, would deliver an UNHOLY spike to your nether regions. IMAGINE the EXCRUTIATING SURPRISE of the UNWARY! Durlag went to lengths heretofore UNKNOWN to keep out intruders!"

"Or maybe he was just fond of practical jokes", Edwin muttered. "Really fun-loving fellow, that Durlag. I bet he lay chortling to himself at night over thinking up some new humorous way of frying, crushing or impaling anybody foolish enough to want to pay him a visit. (Though come to think of it, this sort of place would be very handy against door-to-door salesmen. I do believe this overshadows even the security system in the Mansion at home.)"

"Durlag Trollkiller did nay have much reason to laugh", Yeslick said, sounding grim. "Not after his clan perished."

"What was up with that, anyway?" Zaerini asked with an interested glint in her golden eyes. "I bet you know lots about it that most people don't, being a dwarf." 

The old dwarf sighed and stroked his braided beard as he thought. "Aye, I know the story well", he said. "Most dwarves around these parts do. Durlag built this place to be a home and a fortress to him and his clan, and he used his great skill and wealth to do so. And wealthy he was, or so it is said, though of course it would have been very bad manners to ask him exactly how wealthy. Dwarves think such matters very private." The tourists were flocking around the dwarf by now, listening intently, and Ike was looking very sullen about having his audience stolen.

"But many desired the hoard of Durlag", Yeslick went on. "'Tis said that fiendish dopplegangers learnt of it and invaded the Tower." His voice was said. "They hid amongst his clan, stealing their faces, slaying them in secret. Durlag found his very closest kin and friends turning against him, wearing faces of deceit. He was forced to slay them in order to live, and these halls ran red with blood." He sighed. "Who could bear being betrayed not merely by friends, but by your own children? Being forced to cut them down to live yourself? For each doppleganger he killed wearing his kin's faces, he killed a part of himself."

"That's horrible", Imoen said, her eyes moist. 

"Aye, so it is. Durlag swore that such an invasion would never take place again. He put in wards on every level of the tower, wards needing to be opened by special tokens if you want to pass. And he had traps built as well, as deadly traps as a dwarf can think of when protecting all he has left." He sighed again. "Nobody knows what became of Durlag in the end. Some say he lives still, somewhere deep within the Tower, hiding from the world that betrayed him. Some say he sees everything that happens in his old home and punishes those that would steal from him." 

Rini shuddered. "That's rather creepy", she said. "Poor old Durlag. I wouldn't want to live like that."

"You need not worry, mortal. You will not live long at all." The voice was deep and chilling, even more so than Sarevok's, and it sounded like it came from within the deepest confines of the grave. The half-elf turned around very slowly, not really wanting to see what was suddenly standing behind her, but powerless to help herself. The creature that had materialized on the dark staircase looked a bit like a knight, but the resemblance was a very fleeting one. It was very large and strong looking, as big as Sarevok, she thought. But while her brother was terrifying, at least he wasn't in any way repulsive looking, quite the contrary. This being had the face of a dead thing, a charred and blackened skull with some traces of rotting flesh still clinging to it. In the empty eye-sockets a hellish red light flickered and burned, and the teeth were bared in an eternal deaths-head grin. The thing was wearing dark armor, shining and polished, and it was leaning on a large and deadly-looking sword.

All in all, it didn't look like anybody Rini would like to become further acquainted with. "Um…hi!" she said, trying desperately to think of some clever ruse with which to divert the thing. "Er…we're here collecting for the Support Group For Graveless Skeletons. Care to make a contribution?"

She thought the creature sneered, though it was rather difficult to tell with a fleshless skull. "Let them claim their own home", it said. "Same as I. Here is now the property of I, and all others will fall or flee. Tour is over and tower is closed! All who enter will perish; all who enter will suffer pain. So speak I, and listen well you will. Tour is over!"

_Uh-Oh_ , Zaerini thought. _I think that's our cue to scram…_ "Move it!" she screamed as she saw the undead knight start making a circling gesture with his hand. "He's going to…"

BOOM! The bard just had time to dive out of the way, narrowly avoiding an enormous fireball that burnt the flesh clear off the unfortunate Ike's bones and instantly killed all the tourists apart from one. This lone survivor screamed with terror and bolted off through an open doorway. There was a faint * click * and then a pillar of flame engulfed him from above as a trap was activated, slaying him as well. 

The undead knight laughed, a terrible sound filled with dark glee, as it surveyed the motionless corpses and the frightened adventurers who stared back at him, having managed to survive with no more than minor wounds. The burning red eyes fixed upon Zaerini. "Like what you see, little cousin?" the knight asked. "Basking in the death and destruction? You should, you should. Come find me then, come through death and pain, and see you will what else I can do. So speak I, and waiting I will be for you." A sparkling portal appeared in the air behind him and he stepped through it, his laughter hanging in the air behind him like a foul miasma. 

"Cousin?" Edwin asked. "Please tell me there aren't any more strange relatives of yours hanging about wanting to kill us. Daddy Bhaal and brother Sarevok were quite enough." 

"That is not funny", Jaheira admonished. "I think he was referring to the taint of Bhaal." 

"I guess", Zaerini said, still staring at the spot where the being had stood. "That was a creature sworn to Murder if ever I saw one."

"I believe it was a Death Knight", Jaheira explained. There was a hard edge to her voice. "A terrible abomination, a once noble knight who betrayed everything he stood for, committing the foulest of crimes, now punished in this way for all eternity."

"Well", Rini said. "I suppose I can't really blame him for being in a bad mood then. And I assume he's terribly dangerous?"

"Oh yes. Very dangerous."

"Figures. And I have a feeling we're going to find out exactly how dangerous before long. Why do you suppose he didn't kill us right away if he's that powerful?"

"He must have some plan", Edwin reasoned. "For now, we apparently serve his purpose better alive. Either that, or he just wants to toy with us."

"Lovely. Just lovely." The half-elf sighed, brushing her red hair out of her eyes. "Now what? The door is blocked. We can't get out that way. We'll have to go deeper into the tower and see what we can find. There may be some sort of secret exit, dwarves are big on that sort of thing, aren't they, Yeslick?"

"Aye", the dwarf said. "Of course, finding it will be the hard part. And we'd need ward tokens to even get past this room."

"Something like this, maybe?" Imoen asked, holding something up. It was a smooth and polished blue rock, with runes carved into it. "I nicked it out of Ike's pocket when you were telling that story earlier." 

"Yes", Yeslick agreed. "Exactly like that." 

_Convenient_ , Rini thought. _Very convenient. And I can't help feeling I'm being set up for something._

_It can't be helped, kitten_ , Softpaws said. The black cat had leapt onto the skull of the ancient skeleton and sat watching her mistress with unblinking green eyes. _We don't have a choice. At least we know there's bound to be some kind of trap._

_I suppose so. I still don't like it though_. "Looks like we don't have much of a choice in this", the bard told her friends. "So, what do you all think? Upstairs or downstairs first?"

"U-upstairs", Khalid said with a brief shudder. "I-in case we have to r-r-run, at least we'll be going down as we r-r-retreat."

"You would think of that", Edwin snapped. 

"He does have a point though", Rini said. "And we have to start somewhere. I say we go up to start with." Nobody seemed inclined to protest. _Well, here goes nothing_ , Zaerini thought. With her firmest expression on her face she set foot on the staircase, half expecting it to drop her into the Abyss or impale her on a giant spike. When she was certain nothing of that sort was going on, she took another step, and then another one. Slowly, cautiously, she headed up into the darkness that was Durlag's Tower.


	38. Kirinhale

**In The Cards 38 - Kirinhale**

_The succubus is a form of ta'anari, beautiful, seductive and extremely dangerous. Needless to say, it is a very bad idea to trust her. And yet, she may prove very helpful if she thinks it is in her own interest, as she is less primitive than some of her cousins and appreciates deviousness._

_Excerpt from 'Ruminations Of A Master Bard'_

The first thing Zaerini saw as she stepped into the warm light of the first floor was the dining table. A regular dining table, with a pristine white tablecloth, set with plates and crystal glasses that didn't have a single speck of dust between them. A bowl of fresh fruit was on the table, as well as a vase of lovely flowers. "Do we really want to know who set that table?" she said out loud. 

"More importantly", Edwin said, his dark eyes grim, "do we want to know who intends to eat at it? (Or just what they intend to eat?)"

"I r-r-really wish you hadn't said that", Khalid said, glancing nervously about the room. Apart from the dining table there wasn't much to be seen. Several doorways led off in different directions, and the staircase continued upwards. 

"Let us go take a look around", Jaheira suggested. As she moved towards the north-western door she suddenly halted at the sound of a chorus of horrible wailing and moaning. Then a group of ghasts came charging towards the adventurers, gray skin flaking and dead eyes glittering milky white. 

"Clangeddin's might, be with us!" Yeslick roared and swung his warhammer in the air as he set course for the undead beings. Then he suddenly looked very surprised as a green cloud of horribly smelling smoke erupted around him, and he collapsed to the floor with a blissful smile on his face. 

"It's a trap!" Rini shouted. "Fight them from a distance! Try to draw them off Yeslick!" She started firing arrows as fast as she could at the ghasts, wishing she'd had some more of the fiery ones from the Firewine Ruins. Fire was good against undead. Imoen and Khalid followed her example, and one of Jaheira's sling bullets punched a big hole through the forehead of a ghast bending over the unconscious Yeslick. Edwin's voice rose and fell as he hastily chanted the words of a spell, and a group of hobgoblin archers materialized and started peppering the ghasts with missiles of their own, while the Red Wizard followed up with a few Magic Missiles. It took some time, but eventually the ghasts had all died a second death. Dragging Yeslick off the trap he was lying on while keeping her nose covered, Jaheira started examining the stricken dwarf.

"Eh?" Yeslick said as he coughed violently and sat up. "What happened?"

"Some sort of poison trap", Imoen explained. The pink-haired girl was lying flat on her stomach, fiddling with something close to the floor. "Aha! Here we are. Very tricky." There was a small * snip * as she cut through an almost invisible trip wire. 

Zaerini looked from the trap to Yeslick. Jaheira was starting to heal what she had declared was a broken leg, but there was a limit on how many healing spells they had available at any given time. "Immy, while we're in here I'd like you to be constantly alert", she told her friend. "You'll have to go first and check for traps. This was bad enough, but another one may be dangerous enough to kill us all in an instant. We'll all be counting on you to avoid that."

Imoen drew herself up proudly. "Don't worry", she said. "I can handle it, you'll see."

"And if you can't, we'll likely not be alive long enough to blame you for getting us all killed", Edwin muttered. 

Through the door where the ghasts had appeared lay a kitchen, unusually neat and tidy considering that the group of undead had apparently been in the midst of fixing themselves some dinner there. Some bread lay on a tabletop, and on the stove a pot of soup was simmering. It smelled good, actually. However, as Jaheira carefully stirred it with the wooden spoon standing inside the pot, she fished out something small and white. 

"Is…is that…", Imoen stammered, her eyes wide. 

"Yes", the druid answered solemnly. "It is a human tooth. I think we may not be the first adventurers who have come here." She took the pot off the stove and placed it on the floor, then put out the fire. 

Imoen kept staring in horror at the pot. "Shouldn't we…do something about it?" she asked. "It feels wrong to just leave it like this."

"What are we supposed to do?" Edwin asked. "Hold a ceremonial burial for a pot of soup? I suppose I could fetch those flowers from the dining table and drop them in, but we have no idea who's in there, so we can't really do anything personal. It may even be several people mixed together. (An interesting idea. I wonder what would happen if one tried to raise them? Would they merge together as some kind of goulash man?)"

Rini was just about to ask him to stop disgusting her when she heard a loud thump behind her back. As she turned around, she saw Khalid lying on the floor in a dead faint, an anxious Jaheira bending over him. "Oh dear", she said. "Thanks a lot, Edwin. You're a real morale booster, you know that?"

"Hmpf", the Red Wizard said, looking slightly insulted. "Can I help it if some people are overly sensitive and cannot appreciate the complex workings of an analytical and scientific mind? (Some of these monkeys wouldn't know an experiment if it jumped up and bit their nose. Come to think of it, some of mine tend to do just that…)"

"Whatever. Let's just say I don't think soup is a good topic for conversation right now, so could you please try to restrain yourself before you make somebody else pass out? It's time to move on anyway." 

The rest of the floor didn't really hold anything interesting. Past the kitchen a dark corridor wound itself around and back to the central chamber, past a trapped chest of drawers that held a bunch of fire arrows which Rini gratefully picked up. A small suite of bedroom and sitting room hid a few semi-precious gems, and a couple of Haste potions. And then they found a small staircase, and they could feel a draft of fresh air coming down it. 

The adventurers followed the narrow stairs upwards, and eventually emerged onto the flat top of the tower. It was cold up here, and the wind was blowing strongly, whistling around their ears, almost pushing them over the edge. This, however, was the least of their problems. Three large beasts came crawling towards them, their jaws half-open to display rows and rows of glistening teeth, their pale green eyes shining with a cold light. 

_Oh no_ , Rini had the time to think. _Not these things again…_ Trying their best to avoid looking into the eyes of the three basilisks, the adventurers had no choice but to defend themselves blindly. Jaheira called down more lightning from the sky, and it hissed and sizzled as it hit one of the great beasts, making the basilisk roar with agony. Then the druid charged the nearest monster, Khalid and Yeslick close behind. Edwin used his wand to summon forth more monsters, gnolls this time. Before the battle was over Durlag's Tower had a lovely group of six gnoll statues to decorate its roof, all of them very lifelike.

"What in the Nine Hells", Edwin swore, "are a group of basilisks doing on top of the roof? How did they even manage to crawl up that steep staircase? (If it didn't sound so paranoid, I could swear somebody deposited them there simply in order to harass us.)" 

"Oh, I agree", Zaerini said, rubbing her arm where a basilisk had just managed to draw blood. "That Durlag is starting to seriously annoy me. I mean, most people settle for a guard dog or three. But no, not him. I wonder what's next on the daily list of freak occurrences? Rain of cows? A little trip to the Abyss and back? Meeting up with an assassin who doesn't chatter like a magpie before he tries to kill me? A divine intervention?" She paused. "The last one I can do without, by the way." 

"Hey, guys!" Imoen called out. "Look what I found!" She brandished a finely crafted scimitar in the air, something that made the blade glitter with a faint green sheen. "It was hidden in this trapped container over that way, it nearly took my hand off!" She handed the sword to Jaheira. "Here, you use it. I've already got one of those we stole from Dri…er…the one we found lying about in the forest. Yep. That's the one. The shiny, pretty, twinkly one."

Jaheira frowned at this comment, but she gratefully accepted the sword. "Thank you, child", she said. "I am certain it will be most useful." 

The top of the tower turned out to be otherwise empty, with no other way inside than the one they had come. Retracing their steps, the adventurers returned to the central chamber and continued on up the stairs towards the next floor. The room they entered into looked a bit like a large, round living-room. There was a big fireplace at one end, currently cold and empty, with an enormous red couch and a few armchairs in front of it. Rini didn't have the time to see much more before she heard a very annoyed voice addressing her. 

"All right", it said. "All of you hold right there if you want to keep on living. And if you don't give me a damn good reason for being here, I may just kill you anyway."

Zaerini turned her head to see that she was being menaced by a very short man holding a very large crossbow, almost as large as himself. On his jacket some words had been sewn with red thread, and they read 'Riggolo Rotten, Tomb Excavator Extraordinare.' _Right_ , the bard thought to herself. _First the cooking ghasts, then the misplaced basilisks. And now this. Why do freaks and weird things always come in threes?_

"Not another step!" the stranger growled. "State yer name, and what ye are doing in this place!" Zaerini gave the self-proclaimed 'Tomb excavator' a cool look. He was an ordinary-looking young man, with no particularly memorable features except for a slightly hunched back and a squint. 

"I have a better idea", she said. "Why don't you start out by telling me who you are. You look just a little bit too tall to be Durlag, and if you're not him I doubt you have any right to accuse me of trespassing."

"Oh, clever", the stranger sneered. "I'm not the dwarf who's been dead a couple of centuries. Well spotted. I'm Riggolo, the greatest Tomb Excavator ever. Well, apart from Miss Bust." His face took on a dreamy look.

"Miss who?"

"Don't you know anything, you stupid girl? I'm talking of Miss Largest Bust, the most famous Tomb Excavator of all. She's wonderful. She can run, she can jump, she can fight, she can find healing potions hidden everywhere, and she always wears the hottest outfits imaginable…" He was starting to sweat by now. 

Zaerini was not particularly impressed. "Running and jumping?" she said. "What's so special about that? I've looted a dungeon or two myself, I bet I'm as good as she is."

"No, you're not!" A fanatical gleam crept into Riggolo's eyes. "Nobody is! You're just jealous! Yeah, that's it! You're jealous because you're not a real woman like Miss Bust!" He made a gesture in front of his chest, indicating something enormous and bouncy. "She's perfect! She's flawless! She's a goddess! If you don't think so it has to be because you're flat and ugly compared to her! She's everything a woman should be!"

_Woman? If that's an accurate estimate of her size, then she's a cow, not a woman, and complete with udders too. She probably can't even walk without being dragged down by their weight_ Zaerini was just about to tell the Tomb Excavator so, but Edwin got there before her. 

"That", the Red Wizard said with his most sarcastic smirk, "is assuming you think all a woman should be is a comfy pillow. Of course, some of us have taste enough to prefer one who can actually carry a conversation, but I'm sure you'd find that too intimidating for your tastes. (And she's not flat. She's just right, and I'll be happy to drive that lesson home, preferably with a red-hot poker.)" 

"Look", Imoen interjected with a toss of her pink hair. "We don't need to fight about this. The Tower is big enough for us all. Why don't you take those rooms over there and we'll go this way? I'm sure we can keep out of each other’s way." 

Riggolo frowned. "Fine", he eventually said with a sour look. "But you'd better not try to rob me, or you'll get it. I know all Miss Bust's moves, including the Butterfly Kick, I'd take you out in two seconds." He spat on the floor and disappeared into an open doorway. 

"Can we please kill him before we leave here?" Edwin asked in a conversational tone. "He's too annoying to be left alive." 

"We cannot kill people simply because they are annoying!" Jaheira protested. 

"Why not? Harpers do that all the time, killing people because they dislike them."

"Only evil people and criminals! And only to preserve the balance!" 

"Evil I don't know about but having that bad taste is criminal, and certainly unbalanced." The wizard snorted. "Delusional, even. Probably half-blind. Has to be."

"Thanks, Eddie", the bard said brightly. "Appreciate the support."

The wizard suddenly looked extremely uncomfortable and started paying an inordinate amount of attention to the spot where the wall met the ceiling. "I…er…I was simply drawing on my…er…vast knowledge of feminine allure", he said. "Using it, as it were, in a rational and completely objective manner. Yes. Rational. That's it. (And I'll make him pay for his insults. That I swear.)"

"Well, it was nice of you all the same." The half-elf rubbed her hands briskly. "So", she said. "Let's go do some tomb-excavating ourselves." 

A narrow passage leading north took the adventurers into a small chapel, with wooden pews lined up along the walls, and a white marble altar at one end. There was some sort of large tome lying on the altar, and it glowed faintly with magical light. 

"Oooh!" Imoen said. "That's so pretty…" She took a step in the direction of the altar, and then there was an audible * click * as she set off a trap she'd forgotten to check for. The young thief's normally friendly blue eyes suddenly turned hard and cold with deadly intent, and with a nasty smile on her face she made a graceful leap in the direction of her friends, sword drawn. 

"She's been charmed!", Rini shouted as she barely avoided getting skewered on her best friend's sword. Imoen seemed intent on her personally, and it was with more than a little distress that she noticed that her friend had gotten quite adept at fighting since they'd left Candlekeep. Worse, she herself was on the defensive, parrying Imoen's blows as well as she could, but unable to strike back for fear of hurting her. _Gods, she's become so fast! And she seems to know exactly which spots to aim for too…_

And then the spells that Jaheira and Yeslick had started casting at the first warning were finally launched. One of them sent Imoen unconscious to the ground, while the other held her rigidly immobile. 

"Are you all right?" Edwin asked, sounding rather worried. "She didn't harm you?"

The bard checked herself. "No, no", she said, once she'd decided that she was all in one piece. "I'm fine, thanks."

"Well, that's a relief. Charmed like that she was quite dangerous. In fact, for a moment there she reminded me a little of…er…somebody I know. (Pinker, to be sure, and much less experienced, but still some resemblance in style.)" 

Imoen chose that moment to come out of her trance. "Oh Rini!" she wailed as she sat up, her eyes rapidly filling with tears. "I could have killed you! Can you ever forgive me?" 

"Of course I do", the half-elf reassured her friend, giving her a hug. "I know it wasn't your fault. It must have been terrible for you too." 

"But that's just it! It wasn't. I was all cold and calm inside, and I didn't even know you, all I knew was that you were supposed to be dead, and I was supposed to make you dead. I wasn't even angry with you, I just wanted you dead. And…and it felt so wonderful, not caring about anything but the kill…I feel like such a monster now!"

"Oh Immy. It was just the spell affecting you. I know you're not really like that, and so do you. You're all right now, and so am I."

"I guess", Imoen said with a shudder, raking her hand through her pink hair as she gave her friend a shaky smile. "I promise I'll be more careful in the future. I won't miss any more traps, I promise." 

The book on the altar turned out to be a magical tome indeed, one that was supposed to give the user increased clarity of mind. Rini couldn't feel much of a difference after using it, but she thought that any change for the better had to be useful. 

That settled, the adventurers returned to the central chamber, this time taking the southern door. This led them through a narrow corridor into another room. Several cupboards stood along the walls, there was a dwarven sized bed, and on a table a human skeleton lay. It looked almost as if it had lain down to take a nap. 

"How very strange", Jaheira said. "I wonder why this man was not buried. And if he fell during the dwarf clan's last days, and they could not attend to him, then why are his bones laid out like that?"

"A way to honor him", Yeslick explained. "They would have buried him later, I think, but the battle took them as well before they could do so. May his spirit have found peace despite that neglect."

As if in answer to his comment there was a sudden, plaintive moan, and a white mist rose from the prone skeleton, forming into what was unmistakably a human shape, dressed in mage robes of filmy white. The ghost's eyes were sunken hollows, its face gaunt and drawn, and marked with madness. Yet there was a smile on that pained face as it looked upon Yeslick.

"Durlag...Durlag, my friend!" the spirit moaned. "You have returned, after age upon age. It is I, Daital, your friend of old. I have waited...waited long for your coming that I might help. My friend..."

The dwarf stood transfixed for a moment, obviously at a loss about how to respond to this. "Say something!" Zaerini whispered into his ear. "Try your best to keep him friendly, he seems to trust you." 

Yeslick nodded feebly. "Of course...er...Daital", he said. "I have...missed your company."

The ghost frowned, looking a little puzzled. "You are uncharacteristically civil this day, Durlag...and I think you are...taller...than I recall. Time changes us all, I guess, though it has not erased my debt. I will serve here until you wish otherwise, to repay...repay...I barely remember what I owe, but it matters not."

"What do I say?" Yeslick hissed, looking quite desperate.

"Anything!" Rini whispered back. "Just be nice to him and try to keep him from attacking us. He has to know lots of things about this place."

Yeslick nodded again. "What debt is this?" he asked. "What has kept you here so long?"

The ghost was looking really suspicious by now. "The debt?" he asked. "You know the debt...When the evil came and took the faces of your clan, when your friends and mine became evil unmatched...you protected and fought though it pained. I could not harm...I could not strike at the clan I called family...you fought them all...though it hurt you more...I was the lucky one, and was released from the nightmare of life...the easy way. I will repay...you should know this...you should know! You have changed! You are not Durlag!" He hissed with fear and anger, obviously preparing to attack. 

"Hold, _samman_!" Yeslick shouted, raising his hand. "I am not Durlag, 'tis true, but I am no noror to you, this I swear. Durlag is long dead, as are you, though your haunted soul knows it not. But I am a dwarf, and his distant kin, and if you have a debt to repay then you may do so to me." 

The ghost faltered a little. "Yes", he said hesitantly. "Yes, I can see now. You have somewhat of Durlag's look about you. As you say. What do you wish of me?"

"What _xunder_ you know, _samman_. Tell me, if you can, what the floors above and below us hold? Is there _ae? Glander? Norogh?_ "

The ghost nodded. "There may be some gold and jewels left", he said, "though most was hidden deep into the lower levels. As for monsters, there lives a creature on the floor above us who is both beautiful and perilous. My friend Durlag imprisoned her there long ago, and you will be in grave danger if you choose to deal with her. Yet deal with her you must, if you wish to descend into the bowels of the Tower. There is a great evil loose in this place, and it has recently locked the lower floors against all intruders. You will need a special wardstone to go deeper into the Tower, one that the creature has stolen." He sighed. "Fight her or not, as you choose. But remember, she is very treacherous."

"I thank you, _samman_ " Yeslick said. "You may consider your debt repaid, and I will pray for Clangeddin's blessing on your soul." 

A smile spread across the ghost's face, and for the first time his eyes looked peaceful. "My thanks to you as well, young dwarf", he said. "I will remember your kindness as I leave this mortal plane…" He bowed deeply, and then his form dissolved into mist once more, as the old bones on the table crumbled into fine dust. 

"A-an honest and good man", Khalid said. "May he find p-peace now that his v-vigil is at an end."

"Aye", Yeslick agreed. "He will, if this dwarf has any say in the matter." With that, he bowed his head in reverence and started praying, his face filled with compassion. 

The top floor of Durlag's Tower turned out to be more luxurious than the ones the adventurers had seen so far. In the central chamber was a heavily ornate fireplace with a few soft and comfortable armchairs in front of it, thankfully not dwarf sized. A pretty blue couch stood near the southern entrance, along with a pair of chairs, and a very special piece of furniture indeed.

"A chess table!" Edwin exclaimed, looking like a small child who has suddenly found himself in a candy store where the proprietor has gone to lunch. "And such a beauty too…" The chess table certainly was pretty, made from ebony and ivory, with gold and silver chess pieces. Edwin scrutinized them carefully. To Zaerini's surprise he didn't seem to care about the value of the gold, being completely intent on the game in progress. "Yes", the wizard muttered to himself. "Not bad. Not bad at all. But White really ought to watch the queen better. And that black knight is very precariously placed, right in the middle of enemy territory…" 

"Er…Edwin?" The bard waved a hand in front of the Red Wizard's face, trying to get his attention. "Are you still with us here?"

"Hmmm?" Edwin said, his eyes still a bit unfocused. "What? Yes, yes. I'll be down for dinner soon, mother. I just want to finish this game first… (This time I'll win. I'm sure of it. I will. It has to happen sooner or later.)"

"Edwin!"

The wizard started violently and then he looked more than a little annoyed. "There's no need to shout", he said. "If you burst my eardrums, then how am I supposed to use my mysterious and magical energies in order to keep you alive?"

"You weren't paying attention." 

"Yes, I was!" Edwin's face took on an extremely haughty expression. "I heard everything you said. Unlike some people I have a schooled mind, powerful enough that I can concentrate on more than one thing at a time." 

"Really?" Rini's golden eyes sparkled mischievously and she lowered her voice into a purr. "Then I'm sure you won't mind repeating the tale I just told you about how I've come to the conclusion that Elminster the Sage is the love of my life."

"WHAT?!"

"Oh yes. That long white beard is so virile, you know."

"Virile…"

"And the sound of his patronizing voice makes me go all gooey inside."

"Gooey…"

"And don't get me started on the pointy hat. You can't beat a pointy hat. It just makes my legs tremble. I understand Mystra. Think she'd mind sharing him?"

"Sharing…"

_Very nice, kitten_ , Softpaws said, her voice sounding amused. _I bet that got him thinking. Now go for the kill._

_Count on it_. "Mind you", the bard said in a thoughtful voice, "Elminster being so perfect and all, I doubt there's a single female in existence who wouldn't fall for his charms. Wrinkles and knobby knees are the thing. I hear he's a wonderful dancer too. And I bet in 2000 years he's gathered lots of interesting…experiences." She could barely keep from howling with laughter as she saw the look on Edwin's face at this comment. The wizard's mouth was working soundlessly, and his eyes looked as if they were about to pop out of his skull. "Oh Eddie", Rini chuckled as she cuffed the wizard playfully on the arm. "You can be so gullible at times; do you know that? As if I'd ever want to touch that old fart for any other reason than to give him a wedgie." 

For a moment she worried that she might have gone too far as Edwin's stunned expression was replaced with one of serious annoyance. Then the corners of his mouth quirked upwards in an amused grin. "Of course you wouldn't", he said. "You do possess some rudimentary taste. After all, you knew enough to employ the most skilled mage in all the Realms. (That would be me, in case you are too slow to catch the hint.) And I knew you were lying all the time."

"Sure you did, Eddie. Sure you did." She suddenly found herself standing really close to the wizard, craning her neck backwards to be able to look him in the face. _I sometimes forget just how tall he really is. And just how…well…handsome_. She felt her breathing quicken, this causing all sorts of interesting things to happen to the upper portion of her body. Judging from the look on Edwin's face, he'd noticed. He kept trying to look unperturbed, but a slow flush was creeping into his cheeks and there was a very strange look in his dark eyes, eager and desperate at the same time. _Tall, dark and handsome. Now there's a future I could live with_ She shook her head a little, trying to clear her thoughts. _Where did that come from?_

_No idea, kitten._

_Softy! Don't plant thoughts in my head!_

_Wasn't me, kitten. They're all yours. Some of them, the ones you keep buried, are really exotic._

"What is it?" Edwin asked, his voice a trifle husky. "Is something wrong?"

"Yes! I mean no! I mean…I don't know what I mean. I…I just wanted to say that Elminster is a stupid old coot. What would I want him for, seeing that I've already got the most skilled mage in all the Realms to service me?" The bard immediately clasped a hand across her mouth as she realized what she'd said, feeling her cheeks turn hot. The petrified look on Edwin's face made her want to sink through the floor. Gods, what must he think of me?! "To serve me!" she squeaked. "That's what I meant. To serve me." 

Jaheira chose that particular moment to peer around the corner of one of the open doors, and both the bard and the wizard were startled to find that they'd somehow managed to get left behind by the rest of the party. "Are you done here yet, children?" the druid asked. "We are all waiting for you." 

"Oh!" Zaerini gasped. "Yes, we're…we're coming. Right away. We were just…talking about chess. Weren't we, Edwin?" For an instant she wanted to wring the druid's neck for interrupting. _Now what's wrong with me? Where did that come from?_

The Red Wizard still looked like he'd just been struck by lightning. "What?" he said. "Oh. Right! Chess. That's right. Perhaps we will be able to play a little later? I…I could teach you all the moves." 

_Bet you'd like that, kitten._

_Softy, just leave it alone. I just made a complete fool of myself. I don't need you rubbing it in._

_No, I bet you'd prefer getting rubbed by somebody else._

It was only with a supreme effort of willpower that Zaerini managed to tune the voice of her familiar out. "Sure", she told Edwin, feeling strangely shy. So utterly unlike herself. "I think I'd like that."

The party followed yet another circling corridor for a few minutes, and eventually they emerged into another room. This room was very different from the ones they'd seen so far. There was an elegant bathtub on the floor, and the floor itself was a beautiful mosaic portraying frolicking nymphs. An old picture hung on the wall, quite a pretty one too. It depicted a wondrously lovely young woman with long golden hair and a shapely body, and it was the exact image of the woman currently sitting in the bathtub, down to every single attractive curve of her body. The one slightly odd thing about her was the fact that her eyes were a uniform blue, with no visible pupils at all. 

"Oh my!" Khalid breathed, earning himself a sharp look from his wife. 

"Aye!" Yeslick nodded, clearly feeling this said everything that needed to be said. Edwin was eyeing the beautiful woman suspiciously however, something that made Rini feel oddly grateful. Then the strange woman turned that unnerving blue gaze upon her and spoke in a melodious, sweet voice.

"A female?" she said, languidly soaping her slender throat. "After all this time, and I am found by a female? I cannot afford to waste my charms on you. I'll just have to kill you, I suppose. Still, if you find you want to help a fellow vixen escape the chains that some fool man imposed on her, perhaps we could talk further."

"You don't look particularly chained to me", the bard said. "Who are you anyway, that you'd be calmly taking a bath in the middle of Durlag's Tower?"

"Not 'who'", Edwin breathed. "Say rather 'what' is she. She's a succubus, a lesser form of demon. Very dangerous."

Annoyance flashed through the clear blue eyes of the succubus. "Not 'lesser' compared to your kind, mortal", she said. "But you are correct. I am, as you say, a succubus. My name is Kirinhale, and you will do me a service."

"Wait a minute", Zaerini said. "Let me guess. You'll want us to do something incredibly dangerous and probably painful, and if we don't agree you'll try to kill us. Correct?"

The succubus pouted prettily. "Maybe", she said. "Yes, probably. If you won't serve, I have no use for you." 

"You really need to work on your people skills, you know." 

"Here's what I want you to do. That damned Durlag trapped me here, over a disagreement, he took my wings and caged me with powerful spells and wards, some three hundred years ago. Have you any idea how bored I am by now? What an indignity it is for one of my kind to be trapped by lowly mortals?"

"Careful now", Jaheira said. "You do want us 'lowly mortals' to do you a favor, after all."

Blue fire sparked in Kirinhale's eyes. "I cannot escape the geas on my own", she said. "But I can get another to take my place for the remaining four hundred years, assuming they do so willingly."

"Four hundred years?" Imoen said, sounding incredulous. "Who'd want to stay here for four hundred years?"

"Want? What do I care about 'want'? I care only about my freedom. You will give it to me, or you will die." She reached up and plucked a few strands of golden hair from her head, then handed them to Zaerini. They tickled the half-elf's hand, feeling almost alive. "There", Kirinhale said. "Take this lock of my hair and find someone near this place. Tell them it is a lock of nymph's hair. If you can pass it to a mortal male and they accept it, they will be accepting part of me. That will free me and imprison him here for the rest of his life. They must be within the tower for the enchantment to work. Such an act will undoubtedly reflect in your karma as the magics of this place are powerful indeed, but I will be oh sooo grateful. You'll like me when I'm grateful. Will you do this for me? Will you? So what if some fool starves to death here?"

"And if I refuse?"

"Why then", the succubus said with a sweet smile, "then I will kill you all, same as I've killed all other adventurers who have dared intrude on me without wanting to help me. Perhaps you need some more incitement." She waved her hand and Imoen, Khalid, Yeslick and Jaheira froze, suddenly held immobile by the power of her spell. "If you fail, or seek to betray me, then they die. If you succeed, I will reward you, and you will not be disappointed. The choice should be an easy one."

There wasn't much of a choice, of course. Zaerini didn't dare risk her friends' lives in a fight, at least not when it was only her and Edwin up against a powerful demon. She suddenly recalled the chess pieces outside. _I should have known. All that gold and silver, still here after so many years. I should have known there had to be something really dangerous here to keep them from getting stolen_. "Very well", she said reluctantly. "I will do as you ask."

"You are being very quiet", Edwin said as the two adventurers started off towards the stairs again. "Don't worry, this shouldn't be too difficult an assignment." They hadn't even needed to discuss just who their target was going to me, there was really only one possible choice.

"I know. It's just that the thought of doing this sort of thing to somebody, even somebody as annoying as that Riggolo person, it bothers me."

"We had no choice but to agree though. (And he deserves whatever he gets for his previous insults.)"

"Oh, I know. Our friends would be dead otherwise. But I still don't really like it. Perhaps we can find some way around it."

It was then that Riggolo himself jumped out from between one of the large couches, still waving that enormous crossbow about. "Ha!" he cried out triumphantly. "I heard you, don't think I didn't! Try to trick me, would you? Trying to steal my treasure? Well, you won't get away with it. I've studied Miss Bust's every move, from the Random Swing to the Pointless Kick, I can fight anything, and I've even got some extra-mega-super-shrapnel ammo for my crossbow! So you'd better give me all you've got." He drew out a small picture and gave it a doting kiss. Rini could just make out a strangely shaped brunette in the picture, with a wasp-like waist that made her look like she was about to break in two at any moment. She also was quite enormous in the chest area, making her look like she had two huge pillows stuffed into the green and very brief tunic that she was wearing. She carried a large crossbow in either hand, and was smiling a predatory smile. "Go ahead, give it to me and I may not kill you in the name of Largest Bust. Maybe."

"All right", the bard said. "If you're sure." She handed Riggolo the lock of succubus hair. "This is incredibly valuable, it's real nymph hair." _Serve him right too, for trying to rob us. And for calling me ugly and flat, before_. "There's more of it over that way." She pointed in the direction of Kirinhale's chambers. 

"Really?" Riggolo said, giving the blonde hairs a greedy look. "Then you will come along and show me. That sort of thing could make me rich enough to buy the new tales of 'Miss Bust's Tomb Excavating Adventures'. The unofficial ones, the ones modified by fans to show her…to show her…n-n-naaaaked…" A thin string of drool emerged from his mouth. 

"Oh, certainly", Edwin said. "It will be our pleasure." There was a sharp edge to his smile as he watched Riggolo. "In fact, it's such a lovely sight that you may never want to leave."

Kirinhale had finished her bath by the time they returned and was now dressed in a gauzy white dress. "You are back!" she exclaimed. "And you have brought me a male, just as you promised. Such a clever, tricksy little mortal you are! I will be free! Free at last! After all these years…I will finally have my wings again!" Leathery, bat-like wings were sprouting from her back even as she spoke, and she flapped them tentatively. "Yesssss….soon I will fly again…" Her blue eyes were blazing by now, her golden locks writhing like maddened snakes against her white shoulders, twisting slowly in the air. Riggolo stared transfixed at her, and then slumped to the ground, unconscious, while Rini's friends were released from the spell holding them. "I leave you your lives in payment for your service", the succubus laughed.

"What of Riggolo? Is he really stuck here for four hundred years now?"

"Yes", Kirinhale said with a malicious smile. "Though I modified the spell a bit. He's in an enchanted sleep that will last all that time, unless he gets a kiss from his One True Love in the meantime, one that will bond their souls forever. I have a feeling he's in for a long nap."

Rini thought about Largest Bust. She felt inclined to agree.

"And one more thing", Kirinhale added, "a hint to make the game you play a trifle easier. I can smell the dark blood in you, little female, and I know what you are now. It amuses me to aid you, Child of Murder. The one who has taken this tower waits below, far below, and there lies your own means of escape as well. You must face him or perish, and I would see him destroyed rather than you. So listen to me, Child of Murder, and listen well. Beware the mirror!"

The air ripped and tore behind Kirinhale, forming a swirling blue portal. Rini could just glimpse a dark and twisted landscape, filled with amorphous horrors her mind couldn't readily comprehend. _The Abyss. It has to be. I'm looking into the Abyss itself._ Then the succubus leaped through the portal, after tossing Zaerini yet another of those dwarven wardstones, shrieking with laughter, soaring high on strong batwings. The portal closed behind her, and she was gone. 

"Perhaps", Edwin said, "we ought to save the chess lesson for some later occasion." He nudged the sleeping Riggolo with his toes, none too gently. "Those abysmal snores of his would make it far too difficult to concentrate."

**Small Dwarven Dictionary:**

Samman - friend, shield-brother

Noror - enemy

Norogh - enemies, monsters

Ae - gold 

Glander - gems

Xunder - secrets


	39. Triumph and Turnabout

**In The Cards 39 – Triumph and Turnabout**

_Always try to understand what motivates the people around you, be it gold, honor, power or prestige. Whatever their most powerful drive is, that will be your key to getting them exactly where you want them, preferably without them noticing it. Make the bait sweet enough and they won't ever notice the hook until it's far too late. Finally, try to keep in mind that out of sight, somebody may just be setting a trap for you as well._

_Excerpt from 'Interview With An Assassin'_

Cythandria was feeling very pleased with herself. The blonde mage had decided to take the opportunity while Sarevok was away to further strengthen her already considerable allure. A slow bath with rose oil to seep into her soft and silky white skin, followed by a relaxing massage. A careful manicure and pedicure. Generous dollops of strongly seductive perfume behind each ear, in the hollow of her throat and in some other, more…intimate…places. Then some attention paid to her hair, now carefully piled on top of her head like a golden crown, except for a few artful ringlets tumbling down towards her rounded shoulders. Then the makeup. 

Cythandria admired herself in her full-length mirror with a satisfied smile, showing pearly white teeth between red lips, soft and full and plump. Her baby-blue eyes took in the radiant vision in front of her beneath lashes currently carefully darkened. Just a little more powder on her nose and she would be perfect. Yes. There. The deep red dress she was wearing pushed in and pushed out in all the right the places, the rubies at her throat were the perfect complement to it. _I'm a goddess. Perfect, lovely, enchanting and divine. Sarevok will never be able to resist me_. The wizardess' red lips twisted into a cold and unpleasant smile. _I almost wish that bitch Tamoko could be present to watch us couple. To watch him reach out for me, as hot and eager as can be. Maybe that would be enough to make her slink back to her dirty little shit-hole of a country with her tail between her legs. Sarevok will be mine. I always get my man._

Yes. Sarevok. Cythandria considered the man she wanted. Strong, stronger than any man she'd ever met. Incredibly powerful. You could feel his presence as soon as he entered a room, like power was seeping out through his very skin. You could see that power burning in those strange eyes of his, you could hear it in every word he spoke in that deep and rumbling voice, a voice like approaching thunder. The mage took a deep breath and fanned herself. She couldn't allow herself to get distracted. That Sarevok was very much an attractive man was pleasant, but it was by no means the important thing. She would have sought him out if he'd been an old and withered husk or if he'd had the looks of a pig. What mattered was power. Sarevok had power like no other man she knew. 

_But a man may be as powerful as a god, and it matters little. What matters is which woman is clever enough to capture his fancy and use that power through him. Oh, he is like a powerful lion, big and dangerous. But already I am tying my leash around his neck, oh so gently, oh so carefully. Soon he will go where I want him to go and kill at my command. And somehow I think Tamoko will be first on my list._

Tamoko. Cythandria frowned angrily as she thought of her rival. She couldn't comprehend what Sarevok saw in the other woman, and that annoyed her very much. Tamoko never seemed to pay much attention to her appearance. She certainly never bothered with the fine silks and velvets that Cythandria so adored. She almost always wore armor, same as any male warrior. And she never seemed to do anything to ingratiate herself to Sarevok either. She didn't flatter him, like Cythandria did, and tell him what a strong and wonderful man he was, and how worthy he was of becoming a ruler. She didn't tell him how weak and foolish she was in comparison to such a wonderful man, a tactic that Cythandria had often employed to great success in her various romantic endeavors. She didn't tell him how much she was in need of his strength to protect her either, and that was plain foolishness. In Cythandria's experience there was no man who could resist a woman smiling sweetly at him and telling him how much she needed him. 

Sarevok should have tired of Tamoko long since, Cythandria thought. And yet he kept going back to her. The other woman had owned him first, it was true. But it was still annoying that this seduction was taking her so long. She was getting impatient. True, she'd had Sarevok in her bed a few times, and experienced some of that raging power for herself. She was certain he had appreciated it. After all, she was very skilled in the arts of love. But he wouldn't leave Tamoko entirely. The one time Cythandria had dared to carefully bring it up he'd looked as if he were about to strike her, and for a moment she'd thought he would. Then he'd told her plainly that she would never mention that subject again. And she hadn't, she'd just had to resort to more subtle tactics. Carefully drawing attention to every time Tamoko didn't seem as enthusiastic as she ought to be about Sarevok's plans, implicating that the other woman might not be entirely loyal. 

It was working, if slowly. Her latest achievement was proof of that. When Sarevok went away on whatever errand had taken him away from the City this time Cythandria had made sure that she, not Tamoko, was the last female face he saw. He was starting to trust her more and more. And so when she'd suggested, oh so helpfully, oh so deferentially, that Tamoko's various duties kept her too busy to take on another important task, Sarevok had done exactly what she wanted him to do. The blonde mage smiled again and carefully touched the object tucked into her generous cleavage. She kept it on her at all times. While she didn't care particularly about the contents of Sarevok's diary, having possession of it had scored her quite a few points in the game she was playing against Tamoko. Besides, it was locked anyway, with an intricate lock that had resisted what opening spells she knew. And she knew she would have to give it back anyway, now that he'd returned. 

Cythandria's smile slowly widened. It was time. Time to launch her next attack, now that Sarevok was back. _He sent for me. Not her. Me._

The mage took out the note she'd received earlier that evening and read it triumphantly, not for the first time. 

_Cythandria,_

_I have missed you sorely during my absence. My mind is enflamed with thoughts of you, of the time we have spent together and the time ahead of us. And there will be much time ahead of us. Once my goals are realized, I shall need a worthy consort. I now realize there can be none more worthy than you. Only those who are truly loyal to me deserve my favor, and those who are not will be made to pay. It is my wish that you be there to watch as I mete out that payment in blood._

_Meet me on the roof terrace on the stroke of midnight. We have much to discuss, and I wish to thank you in person and privately for what you have done for me. I expect the thanking will take some time, so I hope you will be well rested as you go to meet me._

_Impatiently,_

_Sarevok_

She could almost hear his voice as he spoke those words, so commanding, so penetrating. His consort… He goal was within her reach at last. _Those who are not will be made to pay. So he'd finally decided to rid himself of the bitch_. And he wanted to thank her privately. Cythandria smirked as she placed the letter next to her heart, along with the diary. If he wanted his diary back, she intended for him to have to retrieve it with his own hands. That ought to stir him. 

The mage made her way to the top of the Iron Throne tower, using a spell of invisibility in order not to be spotted by anybody. The last thing she needed was Tamoko interfering. As she stepped onto the Roof Terrace she allowed the spell to wink out. The night air was cool, and she shivered slightly, despite the cloak she'd put on. "Sarevok?" she asked. There was no reply. _I must be early. Or maybe he is late. I should make him pay for that. It would be fun to see him beg a little._

The moon was close to full, probably only a few days away from it. But it was only visible now and then behind the thick clouds that chased across the sky, and the roof terrace was covered with pools of shadow, dark as Shar's tresses, bits of pure night. _What am I, a child? I'm a mage, I shouldn't be jumping at shadows._

Cythandria walked over to the iron railing, leaning on it, and gazed out over the city of Baldur's Gate. It glowed beneath her like a living creature, shimmering with a thousand lights, humming and stirring in a thousand voices, even at night. The merchants and nobles, children and workers of the day might be sleeping. But this was the time of courtesans and their clients, of burglars and robbers, of necromancers and assassins. The city had a dark side as well as a light one, and there was power to be had from both. _One day_ , Cythandria thought triumphantly. _One day soon, this will all be Sarevok's. And through him, it will all be mine. Grand Duchess Cythandria. I like the sound of that. Queen Cythandria might be even better. Yes. I think I shall definitely have him make me a queen._

Another cloud drifted across the moon, this time covering it entirely, making the shadows gather closer, black and silent. _Where is Sarevok? He must be taught that nobody crosses me._

And then there was a strong arm around her shoulders from behind, and for a moment she thought it was her belated lover, but then another arm slipped around her neck, swift as a striking snake, intimate as a lover's caress. _No!_ Cythandria just had time to think. _He sent for me! I was to be his consort…_ Then there was pain, and an audible cracking sound, and Cythandria knew no more as the shadows rushed in to greet her. 

Dekaras let the mage's corpse slide silently to the ground even as she exhaled her last breath. The diary was just where he'd thought it would be, seeing that he'd searched every inch of her room previously without finding it, and he managed to draw it out without touching too much of her flesh. _What is that revolting perfume she's wearing?_ he thought. _She smells like she poured half a bottle over herself. I'll have to take a bath as soon as I'm done here, or I'll stink for days. The things I do for that boy never cease to amaze me…_

The diary was locked and would have to wait for later. The important thing was gaining hold of it, and Sarevok's private thoughts and plans along with it. It was a pity Cythandria had been so obsessive about keeping it on her person at all times or he might have been able to steal and copy it without killing her. Not that he cared particularly about whether she lived or died, but he had no wish to blow his cover just yet. Thus, this little subterfuge. The assassin hauled out the letter along with the diary. He'd been correct in assuming she'd carry it with her, but he'd made certain to make a back-up plan, just in case. The letter was written in a special type of ink, one that would disappear in a few hours, leaving no trace of the message. 

_Almost a pity that. I made such a nice imitation of Sarevok's handwriting too. Nothing a professional forger couldn't see through, but enough for the likes of her. I'm almost tempted to sign his name on a bill or two as well, just to keep in practice. But I suppose that would be too risky. Oh well. Back to business it is._

Once he'd made certain Cythandria was carrying no other items of interest, the assassin lifted her dead body, once again wincing at the penetrating smell of her perfume and threw her over the railing. The corpse bounced against walls and outcroppings a couple of times, before landing on the cobbled pavement with a loud * splat * that could be heard even from the top of the Tower. _That should do it. Perfectly reasonable for her to be found with a snapped neck after a fall like that. No reason for anybody to suspect foul play. And now for the final touch._

Dekaras pulled out a small glass bottle and poured a generous dollop of green fluid over the iron railing, just where it met the wall. The iron immediately began to rust and corrode, and before long it crumbled, making it easy for him to tear it loose. Now it would seem that Cythandria had leant against the faulty railing, and that her weight had caused it to break, hurling her to her death. The assassin's black eyes scanned the roof terrace, making sure that everything was in order. It certainly seemed as neat and tidy as he could wish for. _Now for that bath, before she chokes me in return. And then I think I have some reading to catch up with…_

Sarevok wasn't sure exactly what it was that woke him up. It didn't make any sense. As soon as he'd returned from his failed attempt to catch his little sister, he'd gone to Tamoko, seeking comfort and release in her arms. Their lovemaking had been passionate, more so than it had been for weeks. Perhaps it had been his frustration at his failure that had driven him. He didn't know, and it hardly mattered. What did matter was that he ought to have been deep in sleep next to his lover, dead to the world for what remained of the night. And yet something had woken him up, a chill feeling at the nape of his neck, as if somebody had just walked across his grave. A flicker of movement at the corner of his eye as he sat up, still half asleep. Had that been something passing by the window? It was gone now. For some reason that made him think of another night, a few months ago, when he'd caught up with another of his siblings. Choking the life out of the little worm with his bare hands, then throwing him off the roof had been very pleasurable. Seeing the dark blood seep onto the wet cobblestones equally so. 

_One less who carries the blood_ , Sarevok thought. _One less rival for my Father's power. Yes, that was a very satisfying death. But why did I suddenly remember it?_

"Sarevok?" Tamoko said, stroking her lover's powerfully muscled back. "What is it?"

"It is nothing", the warrior responded. "Nothing of importance." He lay down again, stroking Tamoko's coal-black hair as he tried to determine what was worrying him. On the surface everything was right, apart from the fact that his annoying little sister had eluded him once again. And yet he couldn't quite shake the feeling that something was wrong, that something was rotten deep within the Iron Throne. _I'll have to remember to retrieve my diary from Cythandria tomorrow morning. Perhaps putting my thoughts to paper will help me clear my mind. Yes. That's what I will do. First thing tomorrow morning._

_Meanwhile, deep within Durlag’s Tower…_

"So that's it for the top levels", Zaerini remarked. "I guess the cellars are next."

"Oh d-dear", Khalid moaned. "I-if the top floors were littered with undead and d-demons, then I don't w-want to know what the cellars are like." 

"Who knows? They could be all cleared out by other adventurers already."

"I would not count on it", Jaheira said. "If I know anything about dungeons at all, it is that they always get worse the deeper you go." 

"It's not as if we have much choice though. And if Kirinhale can be trusted, then down is where we must go if we ever want to find our way out of here." The bard raised her hand to overrule any possible objections. "Yes, I know she's a demon and that she might have been lying. We'll just have to take our chances."

"At least there's good and solid dwarven rock everywhere around us", Yeslick mused. 

"Yes", Edwin muttered. "Such as your head."

"So", Zaerini said in a very loud voice, trying to forestall an argument, "since it's all been settled, let's be off then. And Yeslick, I'd really like you to teach me one of those dwarven songs we discussed before…"

Once the party made their way downstairs, they found themselves in a rather unimpressive looking cellar. It was a bare and circular stone room, with a few barrels heaped on the floor, and a well in the middle of the room. There was also a very nervous-looking man who was trying to hide between one of the barrels but was shivering too badly to succeed. 

_Another one?_ Rini thought. _For a supposedly deserted tower this place sure is crowded. I just hope this one isn't hung up on that Largest Bust woman as well. I don't think I could take that._

" *COUGH* Who...who are you?" the man said, teeth chattering. "Ahh, a wanderer not unlike meself. Best you turn and walk on, friend; this place does not accept visitors with grace. Better you are alive and leaving, like me."

"You know", Zaerini said, "I didn't really expect this place to invite visitors in for tea and cookies when I first came here. Is there anything interesting you can tell me, or are you just going to do the 'frightened bystander' routine?"

The man looked a little taken aback at this, but he soon rallied. "Cocky, aren't you?" he said, before pausing to cough up some blood-tinged phlegm. " *Haaaawwwwk * You should expect to see many things that you did not expect, little girl. Heheh...oww...don't make me laugh. I've a dart in me gullet doing some nasty things. My name is Bayard, and me friends and I came here just as you did. It looks a rewarding place, but I have decided it is beyond my ability."

"Aw, don't worry", Imoen said encouragingly. "We'll be fine. I'm really good at spotting traps and things like that by now." 

"If you live long enough to fight the creatures that call this place home count yourself lucky", Bayard said, his eyes alight with fear. "The very walls within will conspire to keep you at bay. Mere traps test only your dexterity, but this place is more than a simple doorknocker. Durlag was a sick, sick man, and I tell you that he meant to kill those that entered, not just hinder."

"Hey!" Yeslick protested and hefted his warhammer. "That's my distant kin yer talkin' about, so mind yer tongue!"

Bayard shuddered and coughed up some more blood. He was turning an alarming shade of gray. "No offence", he said. "I'm just…just feeling under the weather is all. Sure there be traps, triggered by wire or step or sound, but there are TESTS as well, tests he made to find friend or foe. You will need more than your agile fingers to escape what comes. Some traps give no second chance. Attention must be paid, or death will easily take you."

"Tests", Edwin muttered. "Of course. It had to be tests. Lucky I'm experienced with such things. (Well, at least they can't be more agonizing than the one I was given on Dangerous Creatures back when I was eight. I'm sure Durlag wouldn't be cruel enough to insert a trick question. How was I supposed to know that there's no such thing as a Plaid Dragon? There could have been.)"

Jaheira gave Bayard a disapproving look. "You seem quite certain this place is dangerous", she said. "What makes you so sure, and why have you abandoned your friends to it?"

The man snorted and wiped his sweaty brow. "I have not abandoned my friends", he said, his voice hoarse. "Young they may be, but they are old enough to make up their own minds. I will not baby-sit anyone who can take up the sword to defend themselves. I say the risk, and if they wish to continue it is their own fate they decide. Me, I be thinking that it is better to live. This place is death. It is in the air, and it gets in your clothes. My friends, they say 'by the gods, what is that stench?' And I tell them; it's the stink of death, citizens."

"So the Tower is well trapped and has monsters running about in it", Edwin said. "Sounds like every other dungeon I've been in. I have seen nothing to make me think otherwise."

"Hah! You have even less reason to believe it is NOT as dangerous as I say. There is a reason that no one has breached this place to any significant degree in over three hundred years. You have heard the history, or you would not be here. Durlag was a disturbed man; his spirit was broken by the deaths of those around him. This place reflects what happened to him and he seems to demand you understand him before you are allowed passage." Bayard coughed again, a horrible, choking sound. 

"Hold on", Yeslick said. "You are in need of healing. Let us see what we can do."

"No. It…it is too late I think. I see it now. This place is not a ruin, it is not open to the ages; this place was designed to keep people out...or kill them. Even the simplest of doors seems locked with ward stones. If you enter here, you had best be prepared to succeed or die. And as I have not succeeded…I should have known Durlag wouldn't let me run free."

"Durlag is dead", Zaerini said. "Come on, let us try to help you. I'm sure we can do something."

"No. It's too late. And…dead?" Bayard smiled, his eyes already turning glassy. "Plenty of things are dead…and yet…they walk and talk. Death…isn't always the end." He coughed a final time, a violent spurt of blood gushing from his throat as if his very lungs had exploded inside his chest, and then he was still. 

"You k-know…" Khalid started.

"Yes, dearest", Jaheira said, never taking her eyes off the corpse in front of her. "I know. You have a bad feeling about this. And this time I do agree with you."

A brief search of the cellar revealed some traps that Imoen disarmed without too much difficulty, including a nasty one beneath a loose flagstone that hid a beautiful Star Sapphire. A few more ghasts made a brief appearance and were summarily disposed of. And that seemed to be it. 

"This is ridiculous!" Rini exclaimed, raking her hand through her red hair so that it practically stood on end. "There has to be a secret door somewhere, or where else could Bayard have come from?" 

Yeslick was carefully tapping the walls, one stone at a time. "Oh, I'll find it I'm sure", he said. "Dwarves know stone, after all. Durlag won't be able to hide his secrets from me forever." 

"Well, forever is sort of the key word here, isn't it? We can't wait forever, or our supplies will run out and we'll starve to death." The half-elf's golden eyes were blazing angrily by now. "Damn Sarevok for getting us trapped in here!" She slammed her hand angrily into the wall, and then she was very much surprised as the stone gave way to her hand rather than crushing her fingers. A whole segment of the wall slid out of her way, making not a single sound, and as it did, she lost her balance and tumbled head over heels down a dark flight of stairs. _Oh, good_ , she thought as she fell. _I think I found the secret entrance. Lucky me._

It was a good thing Zaerini was as agile as she was, or she would have been in real danger of breaking her neck. As it was, she had trained herself to fall in the right way, and she landed on the floor with nothing more than a few bruises as a memory of her tumble.

"Rini!" Imoen screamed as she came bounding down the stairs after her friend, the others close behind. "Are you all right?"

"Um…I think so", the bard said a little sheepishly. "Guess I shouldn't have lost my temper, huh?" And then she noticed something on the carpet in front of her. A black, wide scorch mark. "Immy?" she said. "Take a look at this, would you?"

The pink-haired thief knelt by her friend and peered intently at the floor. After a few moments her mouth opened. "Oooh!" she said. "That's really nasty! Don't move an inch, I'll fix this."

"Er…Immy? Why shouldn't I move?"

"Er…well…there's this steppingstone trap, see? And you're lying on top of it. And if you get off, then…well…"

Zaerin closed her eyes, trying not to think about that black scorch mark a few inches away from her nose. "Then I'm toast?"

"More or less, yeah." Imoen patted the half-elf's shoulder reassuringly. "But don't worry, I've learnt how to disarm these." She fished out a by now pretty impressive collection of tools from her pack. "Now let's see…it was find the outlet for the fireball first…there we go, right there in the wall. And then we need to get it open. No problem. I can do that. And then cut the blue thread." She paused, and suddenly looked a little confused. "Or was that the red thread?"

"Immy!" 

"Will you try to concentrate!" Edwin hissed at the young thief. The Red Wizard was almost jumping up and down with anxiety. "Do you want her to get blown up?"

"Hey, these things are tricky, you know! Don't bother me while I'm working."

Edwin kept quiet after that, for the most part. He did keep muttering angrily something about 'all rogues seemingly having that certain infuriating nonchalant attitude of infallibility' however.

"Now let's see", Imoen said. "Blue or red. Red or blue. I don't suppose you want me to flip for it?"

"No", Rini said between clenched teeth. "I really don't."

"Oh, wait. I remember now. There was this rhyme that was supposed to help me remember. I was having trouble with it before too. Got it. Cut the Blue is what you want to do, Cut the Red and you'll be dead." She took out a dagger and there was a brief * snip *. 

Rini closed her eyes and waited for death. After a few seconds she realized it wasn't coming and dared let out her breath again, and even to get to her feet. Her legs did feel strangely wobbly though. "I'm alive", she said, hardly daring to believe it. "I'm alive!" 

"N-n-not for very l-long I think", Khalid said. "L-look over there!" 

Zaerini looked. The hallway opened into a large hall, dominated by a huge central staircase. Standing around it were four very strange beings. They looked like dwarves, but it was obvious they weren't really alive. Rather, they were metal constructs, all steel and copper and gold, glittering and shiny, with hard surfaces and sharp angles everywhere. And yet they moved, and patrolled around the staircase, clearly guarding it against all who would pass. They were all heavily armed and looked very dangerous.

"Amazing craftsmanship", Yeslick breathed. 

"Yes", Edwin agreed. "Too bad they're also likely to be amazingly good at hurling axes at anybody who tries to get past them. (It's little things like that that can really ruin your day.)"

"Well, there's nothing for it", Rini said. "We'll just have to go and see. But I think a change of costume is in order, just to be careful. Let me go first, and I'll let you know when it's safe." She summoned the power, the essence within, and once again she shifted into the form of the fiery red cat. _There_ , she thought to herself. _Even if they should spot me, they shouldn't perceive me as a threat. Nobody could feel threatened by a harmless-looking little cat._

_Fine, kitten_ , Softpaws said. _Just remember that you only want to **look** harmless. Now let's go take a look at those metal things, and then I think it's way past time for our beauty nap. We do want to keep our fur shiny and our eyes bright, don't we?_

Zaerini slipped quietly through the great hall, her paws making no sound whatsoever, Softpaws at her side. The two cats found themselves in what seemed to be a sort of major dining-hall. There were several large tables, the main one covered with a red tablecloth. Dusty and broken plates and cups were scattered here and there, as well as the remains of what had once been food. It didn't look as if the dwarves had ever got to finish their meal. _And I'm not sure I like to think about what interrupted them_ , Rini thought. She was getting more used to her cat senses now, hearing, sight and smell. Smell was the one most noticeably heightened from its normal level. She could smell the dust lying thick on the floor, the mold and rot of the old carpets and tablecloths, a distant and unpleasant smell that spoke of some sort of living creature. But she could smell nothing from the four dwarf warders, nothing except cold metal. 

_Be careful, kitten_ , Softpaws warned her. _They may not be alive, but they are still dangerous._

_Oh, I know. I won't go too close._

The four warders didn't seem interested in the cats however, ignoring them completely. They just kept going, round and round in their eternal circle around the large stairwell. It was obvious they'd been there for a long time; they'd managed to wear a groove in the stone floor. One was wearing a red mage robe that reminded Rini somewhat uncomfortably of Edwin. _I didn't think there was such a thing as dwarven wizards? Guess I was wrong_. Another looked like a thief, with a deep hood and a short sword in his hand. The remaining two resembled dwarven warriors. Of course, the clothes were metal as well as the warders themselves, and beautifully crafted. 

_I'm going to turn back now, just for a moment. If they go hostile we scram, as quickly as possible_. She didn't wait for her familiar to respond before she acted, afraid that if she hesitated too long she wouldn't dare. As she flickered into her own form the warders stopped in their tracks, regarding her with chilling eyes of gold and silver, copper and steel. They made no move to attack her, however. And then one of them opened its mouth and spoke, in a voice reminiscent of swords clanging together. 

_I am the warrior's curse  
I steal his future  
I mar his past  
The more he has, the less it seems  
He becomes a slave  
Of glittering things_

_Yet I hunger - Feed me that which glitters beyond all else._

Then the second one. 

_I am the warrior's bane  
I live in the darkness of his soul  
I bring him to his knees,  
Trembling and weeping  
Unable to lift a hand in his own defense_

_Yet I sleep - Awaken Me_

And the third one. 

_I am the warrior's fate  
I raise him above his brethren  
I amplify his deeds  
He becomes scornful, where once he had respect  
He becomes a giant, where once he was a man_

_Yet I lack the proper honor - Raise me up in glory  
Through the chronicles of my deeds, pride shall be honored  
Through the passing of knowledge my sword shall display its glory  
Then you shall know that I am well pleased_

And finally, the last one, the one that looked like a wizard in red robes. 

_I am the warrior's madness  
I curse him with trust and respect  
I slow the blade in its course  
By stealing his passion for blood  
And offering a softer emotion in return_

_Yet I thirst for more - Give me the sweet crimson drink of laughter and passion._

Having said their piece, the four warders closed their mouths and went back to their patrol, silent once more. _Now that_ , Rini thought, _was quite seriously creepy._

Half an hour later the party had gathered in the large hall, having made certain that the warders weren't about attack them. They still felt rather uncomfortable around the metal dwarves, however, and had set up camp as far away from them as possible. "So", Rini asked her companions. "What do you all think of these riddles? I have a feeling Durlag didn't put them there simply to provide his visitors with entertainment."

"It seems obvious", Jaheira said. The druid was sitting cross-legged on the floor, brushing the snarls out of her golden-brown hair. "These riddles are the clues to help bypass the warders and descend to the next level of the tower. Four different things or actions, and most likely we need to solve the riddles themselves as well."

"The first one seems straightforward enough", Edwin said. The Red Wizard was looking keenly interested and was seemingly enjoying the intellectual challenge. "That which glitters beyond all else must be some form of treasure. Gold, or gems. Durlag had plenty of those, after all."

"Aye", Yeslick agreed, "but which particular one is intended here? Must be something very special." 

"The second one is even stranger", Zaerini said, shaking her head. "What brings a warrior to his knees, trembling and weeping? And how do we awaken it?"

"I d-don't know", Khalid said, nervously looking at the shadows around the edges of the hall, "but I f-f-fear it won't be p-pleasant." 

"Of course!" Edwin exclaimed. "Fear! That's it. We should have known. (After all, we do have such a prime example in our midst.)" He smirked slightly, ignoring Jaheira's glare.

"That could be it, I suppose", Rini agreed. "But I still don't know how we're supposed to 'awaken' it. I don't suppose shouting 'Boo' at the warder will be enough. Now, the third one. The one with the glory, and the knowledge. That one also mentions a sword. I suppose we'll have to keep our eyes open for any unusual swords."

"What about the final one?" Imoen asked. 

The bard paused. "I'm…not sure. The drink that's mentioned, that has to be wine. But we don't have any with us, and I don't know where we'll find any down here. And the riddle itself…I just don't know." 

_Yes you do, kitten_ , Softpaws said. The black cat was seated right next to the half-elf, carefully washing her left thigh. _Or you should. Think laughter and passion. Think soft emotion. Think red._

_What's that supposed to mean?_

_Oh, kitten. Try to use that brain of yours. It's Love of course. You really should have guessed that one. But I suppose it's always hard to see what's right beneath your nose._

The adventurers settled down to rest then, hoping to catch some sleep before exploring this floor further. Rini had difficulties sleeping, however. Her familar's words kept running through her head, as did the four riddles of the warders. _Fear. Love. Two more. What can it be? What are we supposed to do? Fear and Love. Fear…and…Love. Love. Why am I suddenly supposed to be an expert on love?_ She sighed impatiently. It was no use. She might as well worry and fret with her eyes open. 

Yeslick was on guard-duty, and the half-elf didn't want to distract him. She could see that Imoen was also awake, however. Her friend was lying on her stomach, very preoccupied with something. 

"Immy?" the bard asked quietly as she walked up to her friend. "What are you doing?"

"Eep!" the thief cried out and started violently. Then her blue eyes brightened, and she sat up. "Oh, hi Rini! I'm just working on that drawing I mentioned before. I couldn't sleep, I kept thinking about it, and how to make it even more perfect, and now it's done! Want to see?" She gave her friend a hopeful smile. 

"I…I guess so", Zaerini said, feeling a little worried. Imoen was good at drawing. She had also made it rather clear who her current choice of subject was. And she could be very direct. Dreading the worst, the bard accepted the piece of paper and carefully unrolled it. Then she stared, her eyes very wide and her mouth slowly gaping open. _Oh my. Hope she's not planning on actually showing this one to Adahn, assuming they ever meet up again. I don't think he'd appreciate this._

The picture portrayed the mysterious rogue, just as she had suspected. In various positions. Standing, sitting, crouching with a long dagger in his hand. The likenesses were good. Imoen had managed to capture that air of darkness and danger that hung about the rogue like a cloak of shadows, and also the impression of sarcastic wit. And then…there was the central picture. In that one he was lying down, reclining on what seemed to be a black bearskin rug. He was smiling seductively up at the viewer of the picture, black eyes smoldering with unspoken promises and open invitation. He also had a very nicely shaped body, not all that heavily muscled but lean and strong all the same. This wasn't hard to see. Not since in this particular picture he'd been portrayed wearing nothing whatsoever. 

"So, what d'ya think?" Imoen asked eagerly. "Isn't he the hottest? Oooh, I'll have the loveliest dreams tonight after watching this for a while."

"Um…very…very nice. It's just…"

"Yes?"

"Immy, that…that central picture… I mean, in the others he at least wears various items of black leather but that one… You never saw him quite like that, did you?"

Imoen blushed a little. "Well, not exactly. But I'm a rogue too, see? I'm trained to notice things, to spot what's hidden. Like traps."

_Bet Adahn never guessed she'd use that skill to spot what's hidden beneath his clothes_ , Rini thought, fighting an urge to either laugh or blush. "I…I see."

"So it wasn't difficult", Imoen cheerfully went on. "He does tend to wear rather tight leathers after all." Her eyes went a little unfocused. "Very…very tight." Then she giggled for no particular reason. "I think I got it all right. Of course, I'll have to check that in person as soon as possible." 

"Uh-huh. Right. Well. Certainly looks very…shapely. You sure you haven't exaggerated at all? Not even…there?" She pointed gingerly at a certain spot. 

Imoen shook her pink head violently. "Nope. Nope, it's like I told ya. I'm a rogue. I notice these things." Her smile went very, very wide, and her eyes a little unfocused. "Next time we meet, I'm gonna show it to him. And then he'll know how I feel about him, and that it's True Love, and he'll sweep me off my feet and do all sorts of naughty and nice things, and then we'll live happily ever after and have lots of kids, enormously cute ones of course, but not until after we become really famous and infamous all over the Realms, the way a pair of dashing and clever rogues should be and…"

_Oh dear_. It could have been just the flickering candle-light, but Zaerini thought the man in the picture was starting to look really, really hunted now. _Poor Adahn. I almost wish I could warn him. Somehow, I get the feeling he's used to doing the chasing, not to being chased. And Immy doesn't give up easily…Who am I kidding? She hardly ever gives up. I just hope he doesn't 'sweep her off her feet' and into a river or something. Or off a roof._


	40. Perspectives and Postmortem

**In The Cards 40 – Perspectives and Postmortem**

_It's funny how much your point of view means. One person's pleasure may be another's pain, one person's fondest dream may be another's worst nightmare. One thing remains always constant, however. Door-to-door-preachers are Evil. Good thing we've just installed an invisible enchanted moat, activated by their mere presence. It was worth all the money too, and we even got the crocodiles for free…_

_Excerpt from 'Ruminations Of A Master Bard'_

"So, what do you suppose it is?" Imoen asked, holding up a strange object. 

Zaerini looked at the thing and shrugged. Whatever it was, it didn't look particularly interesting. "I don't know", she said. "Some sort of handle?"

"Yeah, I think so too. I found it down a barrel. What do you suppose it does?"

The bard sighed with exasperation. "Immy, it's just a piece of old junk. What makes you think it does anything?"

Edwin decided to interfere at this point. "That's exactly the point", he said. "You obviously haven't played 'Wizard In The Dungeon', my dear."

_My dear?_

"If you had", the Red Wizard went on, "you would know that you should always pick up any old piece of junk that has no obvious use, as long as there is something unique about it. It is bound to be incredibly useful later."

"Really?"

"Oh yes", Edwin said, nodding vigorously. "You may not think so now, but one day, maybe as much as two weeks or six months from now, you may find yourself in desperate need to combine an old handle, a cheese grater, a pair of ogre-sized shoes, a collection of fleas and a rabid canary into…into…"

"Yes, Eddie?"

"Into…into…for example a complex spell to enable you to travel backwards in time and assassinate the enemy who just killed all your friends, just as he's about to get up in the morning yesterday. Thus, keeping him from doing it in the first place. Or a machine to help you hypnotize a dragon to get into the Treasury Of Plenty. That sort of thing. (I still remember that time when I had to go back over four levels of the dungeon until I found the hidden magical nail to help shut the Slavering Horror inside an enchanted breadbox. Now that was both cruel and unfair. How was I supposed to guess it was on the floor behind the entry door to the dungeon all the time? Who would search in a place like that? Takes a mind as twisted as a corkscrew to devise that sort of puzzle.)"

"Fine!" Rini exclaimed, throwing up her hands in the air. "I'm sure I don't want to know any more. The two of you can be in charge of collecting random items for all I care, just as long as we keep a lookout for useful things as well."

The adventurers now set out to explore the cellar, starting out with a secret entrance Imoen had discovered in the northern wall of the great hall. This passage led into an old bedroom, where a chest guarded by a nasty poison trap hid a quiver of fire arrows, a couple of healing potions and some poison darts. "Can I keep those?" Imoen said eagerly. 

"Do you know how to use poison darts?" Jaheira asked with a frown. 

"Well…not exactly. But I'm sure I can learn! And it's cool! Come on, they'll come in handy!"

"Just be careful not to hit any of us", Rini warned her friend. "We only have so many antidote potions."

"Great! I'll be careful, I promise." The pink-haired girl stuck the package of darts inside her belt, looking very pleased with herself. "Darts are so sneaky. Any good rogue should have some, I think." 

_And why do I get the feeling that she knows that Adahn does?_ Rini thought to herself, hoping that her friend wouldn't notice her smile. 

_Ah, young love_ , Softpaws said as she came out from under the old bed, the tail of a small mouse disappearing into her mouth. _So entertaining to watch._

Passing through a small storage room they came into what appeared to be a forge. "Well, this was singularly unimpressive, unexciting and a whole lot of other words, all of them beginning with 'un'", Edwin said. "Can we please move on before I fall asleep?"

"Hold on, lad", Yeslick said. "This be Durlag's own Forge! Imagine, Durlag himself may have worked this very Forge, walked this very floor, sat on that very footstool… I wish to linger here awhile and soak in the atmosphere."

"You'll be soaking in a Fireball in exactly two seconds if you don't stop playing tourist guide. (Could there possibly be anything duller than this? Apart from a guided tour through Durlag's portrait collection? Now the wine cellar, that would be a different matter. Or the treasury.)"

"I would nay expect a wizard to understand the hot lure of the forge", Yeslick said with a small smile. "Yer lot are far too subtle and quick to anger. 'Twill bring ye grief one day, I'm sure."

"I'll show you 'quick to anger' you demented lawn ornament! I'm a Great Wizard, and I need not put up with you."

Yeslick shook his head mournfully. "Your ego is positively elven", he said in a pitying voice. "Drop it a notch, lest I do it for ye."

Edwin crossed his arms across his chest and favored the dwarf with his best sneer. "Watch your words when addressing me", he drawled, "'lest they be fed to you on the end of my boot."

"All right", Zaerini said, pushing in between the dwarf and the wizard before they could come to blows. "That's enough. Both of you. We're in a very dangerous place, I won't have you killing each other. Now let's go, there's nothing for us here." She walked out the door and down the corridor, relieved to notice that they were in fact following her. _I can't really blame them for being tense, I guess. This place is getting to me too. I keep getting the feeling that something is watching me from the shadows…_

Once they had retraced their steps a bit the adventurers set off down yet another long, dark corridor. Rini found herself walking next to Edwin. "Are you all right?" she asked. "You seem a little more 'subtle and quick to anger' than usual, if you don't mind my saying so."

The wizard sighed and was quiet for a moment. "I…just wish to be out of here", he said, his face mostly hidden by the deep cowl of his Archmagi robe. "We should be off to Baldur's Gate, as soon as possible. Events are moving on without us, and…and there is no telling what might transpire in our absence. (And if a certain somebody insists on pulling suicidal stunts that could easily get him killed I'll…I'll…actually I don't know what I'll do, but I'll certainly be very loud and vocal while doing it.)"

The bard smiled and squeezed the wizard's arm reassuringly. "We'll go there as soon as we get out of this place", she said. "I want to deal with the Iron Throne too, you know. It isn't as if there's anybody who'll do it for us." 

Edwin only sighed once more in response to this, but he did hold onto her arm, almost absent-mindedly. It felt rather nice, Zaerini privately decided. 

_I just bet it does, kitten_ , Softpaws said. _But if you can pull yourself together long enough to pay attention to your surroundings you'll soon see that this isn't a place to be daydreaming_. 

"Whoa!" Imoen said at that moment. "Would you look at that…" She pointed at something lying on the floor, a little further ahead. Corpses. A heap of very badly burnt corpses, that looked like meat left too long on the grill. Their blackened features were completely unrecognizable. 

"Th-that is d-d-disgusting", Khalid said. "What d-do you suppose h-happened to them?"

"What else?" the young thief said. "Trap, of course. 'Scuse me a second…" She knelt down on the floor, humming softly to herself as she did something complicated to a segment of the floor that looked exactly like the rest of it to Rini's eyes. Whatever it was Imoen did it seemed to involve a thin metal rod, a small quantity of sand and some sort of sticky gray fluid that looked and smelled perfectly disgusting. "All set!" the pink-haired girl gleefully exclaimed and did a little dance along the corridor. "Yeah! You won't catch me off-guard, you mean old trap! Not me! 'Cos I'm sooo good! I'm a Master Trap-Master. Or Mistress. Whatever. I'm really good. I'm so good that I….OUCH!" The latest exclamation was one of pain, rather than joy, caused by the arrow suddenly sticking out of her shoulder. "Ooops", Imoen said with a weak smile, and then she dropped to the floor in a dead faint. 

_Ten minutes later…_

"You have to pay attention!" Jaheira said, not for the first time. "Suppose that arrow had hit you in the eye? Or in the heart? You could have got yourself killed, child!"

"Yeah, yeah, I know", Imoen said a little sheepishly. "Guess I shouldn't have gloated quite so much, right Rini?"

"Maybe it was just a little too much", the bard said with an encouraging smile to her friend. 

"I'll do better in the future", Imoen promised. "No simple old arrow-trap will catch me napping again." Then her eyes lit up. "I know! I just need a little supreme inspiration! Hold on." 

_Uh-Oh_ , Rini just had time to think. _I have a feeling I know what's coming._ Then she watched as Imoen drew out what Zaerini had come to think of as That Picture from her backpack, cooing lovingly over it and making kissing noises. The bard was then treated to a very interesting spectacle as Imoen proudly displayed That Picture to all her friends, one at a time, explaining that it should bring her lots of luck. 

Khalid just looked amused. "Y-you know, I-Imoen", he said. "I-I d-d-did something similar when I had j-just married J-Jaheira. But in m-my case it was a piece of h-her underwe…" He then fell instantly silent at the sight of the frozen look his wife gave him. "Er…I mean a lock of her h-hair. Th-that's all I m-meant." 

"Oooh!" Imoen exclaimed. "Sounds lovely. Thanks for the tip, Khalid, you're a sweetie." 

"Yes", Jaheira said, her voice still very frosty as she kept glaring at her husband. "Though not so good at keeping his mouth shut about personal matters. Now let me see that pic…" And then she fell silent, her eyes very wide and her mouth open. "Imoen? Child? Did…did you…I mean…you did not…did you?"

"Oh no", the pink-haired thief reassured the druid. Then her smile turned very naughty. "At least not yet." Jaheira was quiet for a long while after that, though she kept looking very worried and muttering something about birds and bees being clearly redundant. 

Yeslick's exposure to That Picture involved him turning a bright red and muttering something almost inaudible into his beard about how humans were devoid of all decency and how that poor lad was certain to catch a cold.

Finally, Imoen held out That Picture to Edwin, and Rini was treated to a rare sight indeed. As soon as the Red Wizard laid eyes on it he got quite gray in the face. Then he made a strange, strangled sound in the back of his throat, rolled his eyes into the back of his head and fainted. "Edwin!" Imoen cried out and knelt by the wizard's side, trying to fan some life back into him. Unfortunately, she fanned him with That Picture, making the moving and lifelike images in it the first thing Edwin saw as he opened his eyes. 

"Eerrrgh!" the stricken man moaned, and then he fainted again. 

"Move over", Zaerini ordered her friend, and then she sat down by the wizard, patting his cheek. "Eddie? Come on, Eddie, wake up. Tell me what's wrong." The sound of her comforting voice eventually made Edwin open his eyes, and when he did, he looked both terrified and disbelieving. "Please tell me it was a nightmare", he said, clutching at the bard's hands with a strength born from desperation. "Please tell me it wasn't true!" 

"'Course it is!" Imoen cheerfully said, holding up That Picture once again. "Don't we look like a perfect couple?"

This time Edwin managed to keep from fainting, but now he was blushing furiously instead. "But…but you can't possibly mean…No. No! It can't be true. That's IMPOSSIBLE! There is no way that you…that he…that is… (This is a nightmare. It has to be. There are certain things I do not want to contemplate.)"

"Well, maybe not yet", Imoen admitted. "But he'll come around one day soon. We're soulmates, you know. It's True Love. And then we'll live happily ever after…" Her smile turned dreamy and she planted one final kiss on That Picture before rolling it up and putting it back in her pack, completely oblivious to the nauseated and horrified look on the Red Wizard's face. "Feeling all better now? I know I certainly am." 

_Deep within the Iron Throne tower, in the city of Baldur’s Gate…_

There were tiny claws pressing into his bare chest. Sarevok's golden eyes flew open and stared into a pair of tiny red ones. They belonged to a small and wrinkled gray face, complete with large and flapping ears and a pair of sharp little horns. The face was currently twisted into an unpleasant grin. "Wheee!" the imp gleefully shouted. "Wakey, wakey! Muchly important things to do, Spiky-One! Much troubles!" It started bouncing up and down on his chest. "Cythandria go splat!" it sang in a shrill voice. "Cythandria go splat, Cythandria go splat! Make Cythandria really flat, flat as a mat! Splat, splat, SPLAT!" It started doing a little merry dance, wiggling its pointed tail about. 

_Semaj's damned imp again_ , Sarevok thought. _This time it dies_. The imp was called Flopsy, and was the familiar of Semaj, one of Sarevok's personal hirelings. The young man was a good mage, and a valuable asset, since Winski obviously couldn't be expected to deal with every single magical aspect of the Plan himself. Semaj's imp, however, was a complete pest. Only the knowledge that strangling the annoying creature would make the wizard leave his position had kept Sarevok from doing it so far. But now he'd had enough. There were many things he was prepared to face early in the morning, but a dancing Flopsy wasn't one of them. 

"Die, imp!" the warrior snarled, one massive hand sweeping out towards the imp. He really wished he'd had his sword. Unfortunately, the creature was quick enough to leap into the air on bat-like wings, giggling in an infuriating manner. 

"Ooooh!" the imp mocked him. "Spiky-One mad now! Spiky-One even madder soon! Go downstairs, he'll soon see, yes he will!" Sticking its tongue out at the enraged Sarevok who had leapt out of bed and was reaching for his sword, the imp made a loop in the air and whizzed out the window, still giggling. _Once I ascend to my Father's Throne, my first divine act will be to exterminate all imps_ , Sarevok thought. _Preferably in a painful way._

"Sarevok?" Tamoko said as she sat up in bed. "What is going on?"

"Just Semaj's accursed pet again", Sarevok growled, starting to pull on his trousers. "I'll make sure to speak with him about letting the thing bother us." He cracked his knuckles. "In no uncertain terms." Then he paused. What had the imp said anyway, amidst all that pointless chatter? Cythandria? Something about Cythandria. 

"Something has happened", Tamoko stated, her voice sharper now. "I can see it in your face." She slipped out of bed, graceful as a hunting cat, sleek and alert, reaching for her katana before she even touched her clothes, making certain it was close at hand. 

"Yes", Sarevok said, trying not to lose himself in the sight of her olive-skinned beauty, her proud bearing and fierce eyes. He needed to be focused. "It seems something has happened to Cythandria."

Tamoko didn't smile, but there was a faint sparkle in her eyes all the same. "I see", she simply said. "Will it badly upset your plans; do you think?"

_Our plans. They should have been our plans. Why can you not see that, Tamoko? You, the only worthy consort to the future Lord of Murder? They should be **our** plans._

SHE CANNOT BE TRUSTED, SON. SHE MUST DIE, YOU KNOW THAT. AS MUST ALL THOSE THAT WOULD STAND IN YOUR WAY.

_No! Not her, Father! Never her. She is loyal. I…I love her._

OH? SHE NEVER LIKED CYTHANDRIA, YOU KNOW. CYTHANDRIA WARNED YOU ABOUT HOW TAMOKO COULD NOT BE TRUSTED. AND NOW CYHTANDRIA IS DEAD. CURIOUS COINCIDENCE. AND LOVE IS A WEAKNESS, A MORTAL FLAW, LEAVING YOU OPEN TO BETRAYAL.

_NO! She would never betray me! She wouldn't! And I don't even know what happened to Cythandria yet._

THEN PERHAPS YOU SHOULD GO FIND OUT. AND REMEMBER, YOU ARE MY HEIR. NONE MUST BE ALLOWED TO HINDER YOU.

"I'm going to find out what happened to Cythandria", Sarevok told his lover, his voice much harder than he had meant it to be. "And if somebody is undermining my plans, I mean to deal with it. Any way I have to."

Tamoko's black eyes were enigmatic, her face unreadable. "Yes", she simply said. "I know you will. We all do what we must." 

Sarevok was in an even worse mood than before as he went downstairs. What had just transpired between him and Tamoko hadn't been a quarrel, exactly. But there were undercurrents in their relationship, strange eddies and whirlpools that were making him confused and angry. When had things started to change between them? It used to be so simple. But now…there was a distance between them, and he didn't know how to cross that distance, or even how it had come to be. The frustration made him want to lash out and kill something, but he didn't know what. 

As Sarevok came outside he saw Winski and Semaj standing with their backs towards him, looking at something on the ground. The older mage was in black as usual, but Semaj was wearing a flamboyant yellow mage robe that clashed violently against his red hair and made Sarevok feel quite nauseous. "I am here", Sarevok said, his voice impassive. "Why have you seen fit to disturb my rest?" There was an unspoken threat in the last sentence, one that carried with it impressions of blood, death, and disconnected body-parts.

Winski turned around slowly, as usual showing no sign of being particularly impressed with Sarevok's bad temper. "It wasn't so much us", he said, "as Cythandria. It seems the poor girl has just entered into a highly dangerous liaison." 

Sarevok blinked. He hadn't thought anybody knew. _It was just a few times… It didn't mean anything, not really. Tamoko is the only woman I want. Cythandria was just…a bad mistake._

"A highly dangerous liaison with the pavement, that is", Winski added helpfully. "They apparently met last night. I thought you ought to know." He stepped aside, making a small flourish with his arm. Sarevok stared at the thing on the ground. Cythandria had been a beautiful woman in life. Though not half as beautiful as Tamoko, of course. Now she was mostly…flat. Just as that annoying imp had said. _Yet another death in my wake. Nothing new about that. But…hold a moment. Cythandria. I was supposed to see her this morning, wasn't I? About…my…diary…_

"MY DIARY!" Sarevok shouted, loud enough to make a flock of ravens lift from the top of the Iron Throne building, cawing with terror. Then he threw himself at the dead woman, ignoring the blood and gore as he searched furiously for the object that ought to have been there, but somehow…wasn't. _She told me she'd keep it safe, she told me she'd watch it, she told me she'd carry it with her always, she told me I could trust her, she told me it would be safe!_ Betrayal. Anger. Murderous hot fury. They ignited his brain, making him see nothing but red. _She betrayed me! She died and she lost it! She must PAY!_ His Father's voice was a faint cackling laughter at the back of his brain as he brought the Sword of Chaos up, then down again. Blood. Blood on his hands, on his face. It was sweet, it was real, it was his birthright. 

"Sarevok." Winski's voice, sharp and worried, cutting through the red haze. "Sarevok! She is dead already." 

Sarevok slowly came back to himself, the rage ebbing away. The corpse at his feet was even more mangled by now, and there was blood on his hands and arms, on his swordblade. Old, dark blood, not the sweet stuff of life. NOT WHAT WE WANT, his Father said. NOT WHAT WE NEED. 

"I know she is", Sarevok said, his voice now frighteningly cold and collected after his outburst, inhumanly so. "Winski, I need to speak with you. Privately. And Semaj…" He turned to the younger mage, his golden eyes blazing dangerously. "If that imp of yours ever enters my bedchamber again, there will be less left of you than there is of her." He pointed with his sword at Cythandria's body. "You would do well to remember that." He ignored Semaj's frantic and pathetic excuses and pleadings and shouldered past the two wizards, back into the Iron Throne building. Winski would follow him, he knew. _Him, at least, I can trust_. He paused. _I think. Yes…I think I can._

A short while later Sarevok stood on top of the Iron Throne building, watching as Winski performed a scrying spell. From time to time the mage kept shooting peculiar glances at Sarevok, his face tense and almost…worried. _Nonsense. What does he have to worry about? It's **my** diary that's missing._

UNLESS PERHAPS HE IS THE ONE WHO TOOK IT, MY SON. CAN YOU REALLY TRUST HIM? ISN'T HE LIKE ALL THE OTHERS? HAPPY TO PARASITE OFF YOUR STRENGTH, YET QUICK TO ABANDON YOU IN TIMES OF TROUBLE. YOU ARE AS INTELLIGENT AS YOU ARE STRONG. SURELY YOU MUST KNOW THAT THERE IS ONLY ONE ENTITY IN WHOM YOU CAN TRUST COMPLETELY. HAVE I EVER BETRAYED YOU? ABANDONED YOU? DENIED YOU WHAT YOU WANT, WHAT YOU DESERVE?

_No. No, you have not._

THEN PUT YOUR TRUST IN ME AND ME ALONE. I WILL NOT STEER YOU WRONG. LEAVE THESE MORTAL CONCERNS AND 'FRIENDSHIPS' BEHIND AND PREPARE TO MEET YOUR DESTINY. MY HEIR. MY PRINCE. MY SON. 

Sarevok's face hardened a little. It was true, wasn't it? Anybody could be against him. They all had been, even from the beginning when he was a child, fighting to survive on the streets. Why should this be any different? The essence of Bhaal was calling to him more strongly day by day, his Father's voice drowning out those of all others. He looked upon his mentor and the man he had once thought of as his closest friend, his eyes hard. "Well?" he barked. "Have you found anything, or are you as useless as these other fools?"

Winski's head snapped around, and for once there was some life and emotion animating his usually calm face and dead eyes. Cold anger. "Have you decided to become a mage as well, then, since you obviously know such a great deal about scrying spells?" he asked, his tone biting. "Pardon me, I must have missed it. Do let me know when you want to go out and buy your first robe and wand, I can probably help you get a good deal without you having to chop somebody's head off." He sighed, and suddenly Sarevok noticed how tired he looked, like a man half-dead. "I've been trying to scry for what happened here, as well as for your precious diary. And I'd certainly like to know whatever possessed you to leave it with that stupid woman in the first place, but that's going to have to wait or I'll fall asleep where I stand." 

"And?"

"And the results are meager, to say the least. The diary still exists, that much I could tell, but beyond that nothing. I cannot even say if somebody stole it or if Cythandria hid it somewhere herself. And as for her death…" Winski pointed at the broken railing. "That may or may not have been an accident. The only thing I can pick up is an impression of shadows. Nothing else."

"And that means?"

"Nothing whatsoever. Some people are difficult to locate through scrying. And I don't know who I'm looking for, or even if there is anybody to look for." The wizard frowned. "I shall continue to do so, of course, and for your diary as well. But I wouldn't get my hopes up if I were you. We shall simply have to be especially careful. You wrote nothing too dangerous in that diary, I trust?"

Sarevok was trying to recall exactly what he had written. Many things. Many things that he didn't want anybody to know, and most particularly not Reiltar. "Well…" he said, and his voice sounded a little feeble even to his own ears. "It had a very good lock. Unpickable, or so the vendor said." 

Winski simply looked at him. "I'll just go back to scrying then, shall I?" he said. He shook his head, murmuring something about 'unthinking children'.

Sarevok wandered back downstairs, feeling very much put out. He had a strong feeling that he'd somehow managed to make a terrific fool of himself, and he didn't like it one bit. As he stalked into one of the small sitting-rooms on the third floor every merchant who saw his darkly scowling face rapidly vacated the premises. Gritting his teeth, he slumped in a comfortable chair, glaring after the fleeing men. He wanted to kill somebody, and soon. That would surely make him feel better. If only he'd known who he should go after. He sighed deeply. Give him a fight to the death any day, rather than this swiping at shadows. 

"Anything I can get you, sir?" The low voice speaking right into his ear came as a complete surprise, and it was only through exercising all of his self-control that Sarevok, the would-be Lord of Murder, managed to avoid jumping. Slowly, so as not to appear startled, he turned his head around. Then he had to blink. For a moment he'd thought he was seeing Winski. But no, it was only one of the servants who'd somehow managed to materialize inside what Sarevok had been certain was an empty room. Still, there was something about the man that reminded him a little of Winski, perhaps the focused look on his sharp face. "A drink perhaps?" the servant smoothly went on, seemingly unconcerned about the blazing golden eyes watching him. "Some coffee?" 

Sarevok frowned. "How did you get in here?" he asked. "Why didn't I hear you?"

The servant looked politely puzzled by the question. "I was here all along, sir", he said. "I was merely being discreet, so as not to disturb you. You did seem a trifle agitated however, and so I thought I should ask if there was anything I could do. I hope I have not overstepped."

"No", the warrior said. "No, that is all right." _At least **somebody** is being properly respectful._

"Shall I get you that drink then, sir? I do make an excellent 'Dragon's Breath', even if I do say so myself."

Sarevok shook his head. "No", he said. "No, I am not in the mood."

The servant bowed briefly, his face expression-less. "Very good, sir. Shall I leave you to your musings, then?"

"In a moment", Sarevok said. He'd just had an idea. Winski's scryings might very well fail, and a backup-plan might be just the thing. Besides, he still wasn't sure whether he could trust Winski completely. He was certain somebody must have stolen his diary. Suppose it was even Winski himself? It could be anybody. And this man did seem like a discreet and intelligent fellow, and able to follow instructions. "I…have lost something", Sarevok carefully explained. "A leather-bound book, about so big. Carefully locked. It contains some personal notes that I am eager to have back. You must go everywhere in this place; you could very well happen to come across it. Perhaps even in somebody's quarters. If you do, bring it to me. I will see that you are rewarded for your trouble."

The servant's black eyes widened almost imperceptibly. "I…see", he said. "Most generous of you, sir. Yes, if I should happen to come across this book, I will certainly remember that you want it back. I shall make certain to keep an eye out for it."

"One more thing", Sarevok added, his voice carrying with it the building threat of approaching thunder. "Do not attempt to keep this book in your possession and make certain to let me know with whom you find it. Those who serve me well will always be rewarded, but those who would oppose me will face my wrath." 

The servant nodded. "A wise policy, sir. I would have expected no less of you, and I shall bear that in mind." He bowed again, and then drifted out of the room like a wisp of smoke. 

Sarevok frowned to himself. It was a good plan, and it just might work. Yes. Surely it would. So why did he suddenly feel a vague sense of unease?

_Somewhere within Durlag’s Tower…_

"Oooh!" Zaerini exclaimed as the adventurers entered a new room. "What a nice harp! Hold on a moment, I have to give it a try." The instrument was certainly a beautiful one, made from gold, and as the half-elf slowly strummed a few notes they sounded pure and golden themselves. _Like her eyes_ , Edwin thought, and then he made himself push that thought aside. He couldn't afford any bouts of…irrationality, not now. This place was far too dangerous. _Like her smile_. He groaned inwardly. Something had to be terribly wrong with him for him to feel this confused. Probably some serious illness. Perhaps even a curse. It might be a good idea to ask one of the healers to check him out later. "I think it might be enchanted", Zaerini declared, giving the harp a loving look. "Otherwise it couldn't possibly have stayed tuned for so long." 

"Aye, that is likely", Yeslick said, stroking his blond beard as he nodded. "Next time we settle down to rest I'll really have to show ye some proper traditional dwarven music, lass. I'm sure ye'd appreciate it." 

"What of this thing then?" Jaheira asked, pointing at another large object. "Is that traditional for dwarves as well?" The thing in question was an enormous gong, big enough that it nearly reached the roof. 

"Nay", Yeslick said. "I do nay know what that be for, it's like nothing I've ever seen." 

"Perhaps Durlag installed it as a sort of dinner gong", Edwin remarked, feeling an urge to let out some of his growing tension. "Sort of 'Here I Am All You Monsters, Please Come And Eat Me'. It would be in character for the old loony. (Or maybe the gong summons a dragon or something. Or a lich. It wouldn't surprise me.)" 

"He wasn't a loony!" Yeslick protested. 

"Oh no? And you think installing riddle-spouting metal dwarves in the living-room is perfectly sane, do you? Not to mention traps enough to kill a Tarrasque." 

"Well…", the dwarf admitted. "Perhaps he was just a tad eccentric. Just a tad." 

"I'm sure we will be able to refrain from hitting that gong if we try really hard", Zaerini said, looking amused. "Unbearably tempting as it may be." 

The next room was a circular one and looked a little bit like a temple. Four books lay open in small niches in a marble bench, their pages still crisp and white as if by magic. "Interesting", Zaerini said as she bent over the first one. "They seem to be detailing Durlag's deeds. This one speaks of how he was instrumental in slaying a whole lot of invading Drow." She moved on. "And this one describes a battle with a dragon." She read a few passages out loud. "An entire room devoted to his own ego", the bard said once she had finished with the texts, her golden eyes sparkling mischievously. "Interesting idea, right Eddie?"

"Foolishness", Edwin said with a dismissive shake of his head. "Who's interested in some axe-swinging dwarf anyway? Now, if these were books chronicling the marvelous deeds of some Great Wizard, such as myself…" He drifted off into pleasant thoughts. _Yes, yes. Very nice. A whole staff of devoted and hard-working authors putting the tales of my greatest accomplishments to paper, preserving them for generations to come. That sounds about right. And naturally there would have to be a few chapters devoted to describing just how devastatingly handsome and charming I am_. He paused. _No, better make that a whole volume. Or two. Maybe a trilogy. And of course, my brilliant mind and finely tuned wit would also have to be paid proper attention to, possibly in the form of an epic poem. And each book should come with a picture of me, one enchanted to move…_

The Red Wizard then was abruptly startled out of his reverie by somebody knocking him gently on the forehead. "Helloooo?" Zaerini asked, peering into his face. "Anybody home? You sort of faded out there for a while." 

"No, I didn't", Edwin protested. "I was just…thinking." 

"Uh-huh." The bard had a wide grin on her face by now. "Preening, more likely. But that's all right, it looked sort of cute." 

Cute?! "Madam, I'll have you know that I happen to be a Red Wizard of Thay. A master of manipulation, a terror of thaumaturgy. I am not c…" Then he made the mistake of looking into her glittering eyes and felt his thoughts slowly unravel. "Not…uh…cute…at all…much rather…be thought of…as intimidating." 

"Sure, Eddie", the half-elf said. The way she was smiling made him feel like his robes were on fire. _I think I may be ill. It certainly feels like a fever. And it's getting very hard to breathe all of a sudden…_ "If you say so. You're **very** intimidating." 

"Hey, guys!" Imoen exclaimed as she came running into the room, pink hair bobbing. "You've gotta come look at what I found, right across the hall! It's really neat!" The thing she'd found turned out to be a very large sword, rammed into a standing stone in a circular chamber resembling the one they'd just left. It was glowing, shining with an eerie blue light, and it was humming softly as well. "Isn't it pretty?" Imoen asked, touching the blade. "Oh! That tickles! See, I got a little bored with all those books, so I came here, and then it started glowing all of a sudden and it talked!"

"Talked?" Jaheira said. "So, what did it say?"

Imoen waved her hand a little airily. "Oh, something about Durlag's Deeds now having been given proper glory or something. Can't remember exactly." 

"I h-h-have it!" Khalid said, looking very pleased with himself. "It i-is the riddle." __

_I am the warrior's fate  
I raise him above his brethren  
I amplify his deeds  
He becomes scornful, where once he had respect  
He becomes a giant, where once he was a man_

_Yet I lack the proper honor - Raise me up in glory  
Through the chronicles of my deeds, pride shall be honored  
Through the passing of knowledge my sword shall display its glory  
Then you shall know that I am well pleased_

The half-elven warrior beamed at his friends. "D-do you see? It c-came to me as I was watching E-edwin here, and the books we r-read and the g-glowing sword c-confirm it. We have s-solved the third riddle, and the answer is P-Pride!" __

_I really fail to see what that has to do with me_ , Edwin thought. _And I wish somebody would tell me what's suddenly so very amusing. Any moment now somebody will crack a rib with laughing, and I won't feel sorry._

As the adventurers continued on their way Edwin turned his mind to another subject, and a far more disturbing one than feeling that he had somehow missed a joke. Namely That Picture, and all it seemed to imply. Creating a mental barrier in his mind to keep himself from actually seeing That Picture, he tried to think about what it meant. Surely his teacher hadn't…hadn't gotten himself romantically entangled with little Imoen? It would be utterly uncharacteristic for him to do a thing like that. He'd never displayed any obvious interest in any particular woman, or man for that matter. It had always seemed that he lived completely for his work. And now this. _It can't be true. It just can't. But…but suppose it is? How will I ever be able to look him in the face again, I keep getting these horrible mental images… I'll have to ask him. Yes. Just ask him, straight to his face. Then Edwin groaned inwardly as he pictured the likely reaction of his mentor to such a question. Oh no. Suppose…suppose it is true? Suppose he actually has fallen for her? Suppose they decide to get married? And move away? And start a…a family?_

That last thought made the wizard feel positively nauseous with panic. _No, no, no, no, NO! He can’t do that! He…he can't just leave me!_ A tiny voice was trying to tell him that perhaps this was just a little bit selfish, but he managed to ignore it. _He can't just waltz off and ignore me in order to play house with some girl, can he? Can he? Not when he knows I need him. But…but suppose he cares more about her than about me?_ Edwin glared darkly at Imoen's back up ahead, and for one insane moment thought about how a well-placed spell or two would remove her from the equation. _No, no. What am I thinking? If I did that, and he really does care about her, he'd never forgive me. And neither would Zaerini, come to think of it. Besides, I rather like the girl. I…I just don't want her to get in the way, that's all. Besides, he's not really in love with her. He can't be. The very notion is ridiculous._

Then he thought of something. _But…he has spent some time alone with her. Who knows how much? And he has apparently been giving her lessons, it's not as if I can't recognize certain of her new moves. It's not fair! He never taught me any rogue skills!_ The fleeting thought that maybe this was because he himself was supposed to be a wizard was ruthlessly squashed. The jealousy was riding him hard by now and he wasn't inclined to be reasonable. _It's not fair. He's supposed to be my friend, not hers. Well, I don't care what anybody says. She can't have him. I'll make certain of it. And if nothing else works I suppose I can always ask Mother to help. She's sure to make him see reason, he usually listens to her…_

The corridor now led into a small and anonymous room, with nothing interesting about it except for the large skeleton wielding a two-handed sword that came ambling towards the party, moaning and groaning. The battle proved a fierce one, since this undead warrior was much hardier than the skeletons they'd encountered so far, and Edwin's mood didn't improve when he realized that his magic was useless against it. _Magic resistant. How typical. I could certainly use one of those special spells to counteract that. Maybe Teacher Dekaras can find one for me. Unless he'll be too busy teaching Imoen how to pick locks, that is._

Once the skeleton fell the adventurers continued on their way, disposing of a pair of Mustard Jellies with no particular difficulty before entering a small storage room, to the north of the main hallway. There were no valuables to be found, and the its one distinguishing feature was the door that led into the main hall. The four warders could be glimpsed in the distance, still marching around the stairwell. "Well, that's handy", Zaerini said. "A shortcut. Should spare us some time when we want to go back." 

"Hold on!" Jaheira exclaimed, grasping the bard by the arm. "Look more closely." The thing that had attracted the druid's attention was lying just on the other side of the door. A corpse. No, Edwin realized, a whole pile of corpses. 

"Traps", Imoen declared. The thief was kneeling on the floor by now, watching it closely. "A whole row of them, firetraps it seems. I think I could disarm the first, but the ones at the other end look way too difficult." She sighed a little. "I bet Adahn could handle them though. Pity he's not here."

"No, it's not", Edwin snapped, "or we'd have to watch you drool all over him."

"I don't drool", Imoen retorted, looking rather peeved. "I just enjoy the view, that's all. No need to be so tetchy, it's not as if you need to be jealous or anything." 

There wasn't really very much he could say in answer to that without revealing too much, so Edwin had to content himself with fuming quietly. But then he thought of something else, and a very disturbing thought it was too. _I've…I've been a selfish fool, haven't I? What does it matter about Imoen? He could be in terrible danger right now, all for my sake, and all I can think about is how he feels about a silly girl? And I even agree with her. I do wish he were here, if only so I could know for certain that he's all right_. He gritted his teeth a little. _To know that for certain I'd put up with just about anything, even seeing them tongue-wrestle for hours. Even hearing them spout declarations of undying love and making up names for their future babies. I just want him to be safe and not get himself into trouble. Only that. Surely that is not too much to ask for. Is it?_

But the living did not hear Edwin's unspoken question, and if the dead of Durlag's Tower did, they chose not to answer.


	41. Fire Cat

**In The Cards 41 - Fire Cat**

_If it's possible, always try to prepare before battle. Not just in terms of weapons and armor. Study your foes. What spells might be effective against them, and to defend against them? Is there something in the environment that may give you an advantage? Keep your eyes open, and you may see things you never would have seen otherwise._

_Excerpt from 'Ruminations Of A Master Bard'_

"Well, would you look at this!" Zaerini exclaimed. "That's a very nice armor." The adventurers had entered a bedroom, dominated by a large four-poster bed covered with a luxurious red bedspread. A trapped chest in one corner held a pair of spell scrolls, spells that would influence and dominate a victim's thoughts, and also a beautiful dwarf-sized armor that glowed with a faint golden light all of its own, though its design was plain and without ornaments. "Yeslick, what do you think of this?"

The dwarf took a closer look at the armor, his eyes glittering eagerly. "Well, I never!" he exclaimed. "That's 'The Practical Defense', that is. Created by Bolhur Thunderaxe himself, and a finer suit of armor you won't find anywhere in these parts." 

"Go ahead then", the bard said. "Put it on."

"Me? Lass, should I really be the one to…"

"Sure you should", Rini said with a smile. "You deserve it." 

"And besides", Edwin remarked dryly, "it's not as if any of the rest of us could fit into that thing anyway."

"Oh, stop it. I'd say Yeslick deserved it even if it wasn't for that, he's the one of us most in need of it. Go ahead, Yeslick." 

The dwarf modestly went behind a dressing screen standing in one corner, and when he came out again, he looked truly formidable. "Thank ye, lass", he said seriously. "I'll try to do both ye and old Thunderaxe credit." Then he bowed formally. 

Imoen, meanwhile, was busying herself with the old dresser next to the bed. "Oooh!" she cried out in annoyance. "This is no good! I can't get it open. Nuts and nutmash, I should be able to open it, it doesn't look that hard." 

"Leave it then", Jaheira said. "I am sure we can live without a few gold or healing potions, or whatever else may be stored inside."

"I guess", Imoen admitted. "I just don't like giving up. Huh, guess I'll check out that other room over there instead." She quickly darted into a dark corridor, and a few moments later she could be heard to squeal with delight. "Wow! Come here everybody, come see what I found!"

What she had found turned out to be no less than a treasury, with large heaps of gold coins and gems spilling all over the floor, scattered about as if they were no more than a child's toys. In the light of the magical torch on the wall they glittered in all colors imaginable, ruby red, sapphire blue, emerald green, turquoise, amethyst, topaz, opal, and diamonds scattered the light into a myriad of tiny rainbows. Rini stopped dead in her tracks, unable to do anything but gape, and she couldn't help but notice the blissful smile on Edwin's face either. "Look at it all!" Imoen sang, dancing around the room. "Isn't it pretty?" She picked something off the floor. "Look, a pink diamond! Don't you think this would make a perfect wedding ring, Rini?" 

"I suppose", the half-elf said, smiling at her friend's antics. "But isn't it the groom who's supposed to provide the ring?"

"Aw, it makes no difference. He can always steal me another one…or two. I don't mind." 

The group now began pocketing as many gems as they could easily carry, trying to select the most valuable ones. They had been working on this for a few minutes when the bard found a gem she couldn't easily identify. It was the deep and calming green of a deep ocean, but occasionally she could see a sparkle within, a bright flash of brilliant and glittering blue. It was very beautiful. "What do you suppose this is?" she asked her friends. 

"That looks like a Beljuril Stone to me", Yeslick said. "Rare, and very valuable. And that blue coloring, I've never seen its like before. A rare oddity."

"Hm", Rini said. "You know, that reminds me of something. One of those riddles. 

_I am the warrior's curse  
I steal his future  
I mar his past  
The more he has, the less it seems  
He becomes a slave  
Of glittering things_

_Yet I hunger - Feed me that which glitters beyond all else._

See? It does make sense. We had already guessed that the item requested would be some sort of treasure, and this is a rare and glittering gem, isn't it?"

"It does make sense", Jaheira said. "Yet what of the riddle itself?"

"I can guess all too well", Yeslick said darkly. "I think it be Avarice, the greed that brought invaders and doom to Durlag and his kin. 'Twould make sense for him to remember that." 

"Here's something else", Imoen said, digging through a small pile of opals. "A key! I think it could fit that drawer. Just a sec, I'll go and have a peek." A few moments later she returned, triumphantly presenting two odd objects. 

"A…a switch of some kind?" Jaheira said in a not very impressed voice. "And is that a bunch of grapes?"

"Yep! I bet they're magical, otherwise they'd be all moldy by now." 

"Don't eat them though", Rini warned her friend. "Not unless we're really starving. If they're magical, there's no telling what they'll do to you. You could…grow donkey ears or something. Or an extra nose, for wine tasting."

"Besides", Edwin said, "they're bound to be useful later. Remember what I said about picking up odd items? (Perhaps those grapes can be used to harness potent magical energies from the dawn of time or something. You never know.)"

"Yes, Eddie. Or perhaps we could use them to make some wine. You never know." 

Slowly making their way eastwards through yet another of the seemingly endless number of dark corridors, the party came across a very strange room indeed. Inside, two large flesh golems were engaged in strenuous physical activity, running about, jumping up and down, waving their large and fleshy arms about relentlessly. They were coached in this endeavor by another skeletal warrior who was leading the exercises. "Move it you sacks of fat!" the skeleton yelled. "Move those butts! Harder! Faster! Shake the flesh, make it jiggle! Now do it all over! Don't you want to get all slim and beautiful like me?" 

The sweaty flesh golems just groaned in response, but they did increase their pace a little. "MOVE IT!" the skeleton screamed. "Gods, you're pathetic. Jump! Stretch! Jump! Stretch! Now squeeze! I want to see some feeling heeeere…" * CRACK * Every bone in his body broke as the two golems, enraged beyond all control, suddenly did jump high enough into the air that they landed on him and smashed him to pieces. They then turned on the surprised adventurers, but Imoen's liberal use of poison darts easily took them down. She managed to do this while only hitting one of her own friends, and Khalid forgave her once he saw how easily the golems fell. 

"Guess they finally had enough with being yelled at", Imoen mused. "Poor things. It's a pity we had to kill them. I would have liked to keep one."

"Keep one?" Jaheira said in an astonished voice. "WHY?!"

"For a pet. I think they're rather sweet. They look like big bald baby dollies. Well, big bald baby dollies made from skinless flesh, but you know what I mean." 

"Ah, you just like them because they're pink", Edwin said. 

"No, I don't! Well…maybe you have a point. But they're still sweet. I would have called it 'Fleshy'." 

Jaheria closed her eyes, looking rather pained. "Fleshy…", she murmured. "Silvanus give me patience…" 

From the exercise room there were two doors apart from the one they'd entered through. One led north, the other south. The northern one led into a room dominated by a huge and mysterious machine that filled it from wall to wall. It was silent and unmoving. "Look", Zaerini said, pointing at a small hole in the wall. "I think that switch we found may fit there. Put it in, would you Immy?" 

"D-do you r-r-really think w-we should?" Khalid asked. "W-we don't know what it d-does."

"I suppose not. But there's really only one way to find out. I don't see any instruction manual lying around. Just be prepared for anything." Once started, the machine hummed and buzzed, but apart from that there was no obvious effect. 

"That's it?" Edwin said, sounding rather disappointed. "Nothing? Not even an explosion?" Then there was a sound coming through the other door, a pounding and grinding sound like that of another big machine starting." 

"I think that's what we were waiting for", Rini said. "Let's check it out." The machine in the other room turned out to be a winepress. An old and very big winepress, and it had apparently been started by the machine in the other room. "I don't like this", the bard flatly stated. 

"What do you mean?" Edwin asked. 

"It's all a bit convenient, isn't it? We need to make wine to give that 'Love' warder. And lo and behold, we find not only some conveniently aged grapes, but a functioning winepress as well? It's all just a little too easy."

"We do not have much choice though", Jaheira said. "Not if we want to carry on, rather than stand around here navel-gazing all day."

"I know. I just have a feeling we ought to be very careful around those warders. I don't trust them one bit." The redhead placed the grapes inside the press, and in a few moments a bottle of dark red wine emerged from the other end.

"Ah, nothing like Dwarven craftsmanship", Yeslick beamed. "It even bottles the stuff! Though I really prefer ale." 

"Curious", Edwin said as he turned the bottle over in his hands. "I wonder how one single bunch of grapes could have produced an entire bottle of wine?" 

_Divine intervention maybe?_ Rini thought. _For some reason that really doesn't ease my mind_. "I guess they were magical grapes", she said. "Let's hope this is what 'Love' wants." 

From the winepress room another short corridor led them back into the great hall, where the warders were still carrying out their silent vigil. "Right", Rini said. "We've lit the sword of Pride, we have the gem of Avarice and the wine of Love. Fear is the only one left, but we still don't know how to 'awaken' it. There's another door over on the other side of the hall though, I guess we'll have to check that out next. Let's keep the other stuff until we've solved the final riddle." She stared at the warders, silently marching around the stairwell, their metal faces devoid of all emotion. _Those things really give me the willies._

_Just remember not to give in to Fear, kitten_ , Softpaws said. _Caution is good, fear isn't. Unless you inspire it in others, of course._

_Oh, I know. And I'll certainly try my best. But for some strange reason I get the feeling that Fear is what Durlag's Tower is all about._

The corridor leading east from the great hall led into a small store room, where a group of large spiders waited. They weren't particularly difficult opponents, but one had to be wary while fighting them in order not to get poisoned. Then another room, a library, with bookcases overflowing with books and scrolls. _A little like Candlekeep_ , Rini thought, fighting an urge of homesickness. She met Imoen's eyes and knew that her friend shared the same feeling. 

Edwin sauntered over towards the nearest bookcase where Imoen was standing, examining the titles. "Ah", he said. "Perhaps we will find something of value here. (Not that there are many among us capable of appreciating arcane tomes, I'm sure.)"

"Hold it!" Imoen yelled, suddenly batting the wizard's arm aside. Then she pointed at a small metal object almost hidden by a large volume. "See? That's a poison trap. It could have killed you."

"But…but that's…that's an outrage!" the wizard protested. "You can't trap a bookcase. That's just…evil." 

_I wouldn't want to be Durlag's houseguest, that's for sure_ , Rini thought as she watched Imoen disarm the multitude of traps hidden in both bookcases, retrieving several interesting spell scrolls. _Imagine waking up in the middle of the night and popping in here for a bit of light reading_. Then a terrible thought struck her. "Oh gods", she said. "Do you suppose he's trapped the garderobe too, wherever that may be?" Her friends gave her looks that varied between disgusted (Jaheira), embarrassed (Yeslick), frightened (Khalid) and intrigued (Edwin and Imoen). "Just a thought", she said, a little defensively. 

"I suppose he could have", Imoen said, her blue eyes very pensive. "I wonder what kind of trap he'd use in such a place. Perhaps a spiketrap when you sit down?"

"Or a trapdoor landing you in a pit of crocodiles", Edwin helpfully suggested. "That would be in keeping with his style, I think." 

"Well", Jaheira said, "it is a fortunate thing we do not have to use it then. Is it not?" 

"But", Imoen said, "then where do we…"

"Never mind the details", the druid said. "It is of no consequence."

"I certainly think it is", Edwin disagreed. "Very much so. (After all, I wouldn't want to accidentally step in somebody else's 'consequence'.)" 

"That is disgusting."

"It's just a natural function", the Red Wizard said in an innocent voice. "Surely you must be well aware of such things, as a druid and a Harper both. (I always did think Harpers were full of…)" 

"Perhaps we'd better press on", Yeslick hastily interjected. "No sense in standing about makin' target of ourselves." 

"Yes", Rini agreed, hoping to resolve the situation before the druid and the wizard came to blows. She really was getting concerned about Edwin. He hadn't been this belligerent in quite some time. And That Picture seemed to have made him worse, though she couldn't fathom why he would care so much. _He's…he's not jealous is he? He couldn't be interested in Immy, could he?_ The very thought filled her with unnamed and inexplicable dread. 

_Oh, stop it kitten_ , Softpaws said. _That is just plain silly. If he were, I'd be able to smell it._

_You would?_

_Oh yes. If a human approaches the one he wants to mate with, his smell changes_. The cat's green eyes were very amused. _So does that of a half-elf._

_It…it does?_

_Certainly. And before you ask, no, his smell doesn't change for Imoen._

_Oh. Good. Er…I wouldn't want any romantic complications in the party, you see. That sort of thing could create all sorts of awkward situations, don't you know._

_I know, kitten. Believe me, I know._

Zaerini soon had other matters to worry about however, as the party entered the next room, another small library. There were more bookcases, some chairs and tables, even a comfy couch. There were also three men standing in the middle of the room. The first was a rather scruffy human, who somehow managed to look regal despite his worn apparel. He was dressed in dark green and brown, and carried a longbow as well as a sword. A ranger, Rini guessed. Next to him stood an elf, tall and slender, with golden hair. He too seemed to be an archer. And finally there was a stocky dwarf, who glared at the adventurers from out of an enormous orange beard. 

"Ah, hello?" the bard said. Empty and abandoned. That's what this tower is supposed to be. Empty and abandoned. "Who are you, and what are you doing here?"

The three men exchanged rapid looks with each other. "We…are searching", the human said slowly, as if uncertain how his tongue was supposed to work. "For…some friends of ours. Halflings. Have you seen them? They were carried off by foul orcs, and we fear greatly for their lives."

"Sorry", Zaerini said. "We haven't seen any halflings. Or any orcs, for that matter." Then she noticed something very strange. Elf, dwarf and human, all of them had the same eyes. Different in color, yes, but now and then there was something else, a flickering shift, as of quicksilver. 

_Be on your guard, kitten_ , her familiar warned her. _Something is wrong here, they do not smell right._

The half-elf tried to keep her face from giving her away, but the three men must have noticed something all the same. "Hsssst!" the human cried out. "Now you die, fleshlingsssss!" And then their faces rippled and changed, the semblance of normal flesh melting and dissolving to reveal three monstrosities. They were humanoid in shape, with dull gray skin, and in the shadowy library their eyes shone bright like quicksilver. Two of them rushed the adventurers, the third pausing only long enough to cast a spell, and then they moved like quicksilver, swift and deadly. Yeslick was down already, struck by a surprise blow to the head, and Khalid and Jaheira were battling for their lives against the three monsters, both of them bleeding from wounds of their own. Imoen was firing her arrows as fast as she could, her face tense and frightened, as the two spellcasters sent flaming arrows and Magic Missiles against the enemies, hardly stopping their casting long enough to take another breath. 

Finally, as one of the creatures fell to a swift blow from Khalid's sword, Jaheira had a few seconds to spare, and managed to cast a spell of her own, disabling the monsters' enhanced speed. Once that advantage was lost, they eventually fell, still hissing and spitting. 

"What were those things?" Zaerini asked a short while later. The half-elf had collapsed onto the couch and was watching as Jaheira attended to Yeslick's headwound. "Eddie, you're our resident expert on strange beasts and critters. Any idea?"

"Dopplegangers, I would say", the Red Wizard answered. He was sitting next to her on the couch, frowning as he stared at the three gray bodies. "Shapeshifters of a sort, and parasites. They steal the identities of others, steal their lives. Sometimes they hire themselves out for assassination work, they have a natural advantage there."

"I can imagine."

"But these were larger than they ought to have been", Edwin said, sounding both puzzled and a little annoyed. "They aren't supposed to be spellcasters either. I wonder if these are a new breed, perhaps caused by some magical experiment." He paused. "I just hope there aren't any more of them. It would be very troublesome if we suddenly walked into a whole colony of the things. And given that Durlag's Tower was invaded by dopplegangers all those years ago, it's not impossible."

"Gee. Thanks for cheering me up." 

"W-well here is an interesting f-find", Khalid suddenly said, holding something up. "It was on th-that table over there. What d-do you think it is?"

"Looks a bit like a mallet-head", Imoen suggested. "Hey, do you suppose it fits that handle I found before?"

"It's practically bound to", Zaerini said, her voice grim. "Again, very convenient. A mallet handle and mallet head. They just need to be reforged, and conveniently enough there's a forge. And then there's that gong that's just begging for us to hit it. I don't know about you, but I smell traps."

"What are you suggesting?" Jaheira said. 

"I'm saying that I think we've just found ourselves a way to 'awaken Fear'. And once that is done all the warders will satisfied." _Or so I hope. Somehow, I have a feeling things aren't going to be quite that easy. Not with 'Crazy Durlag' picking the rules of the game we're playing._

Rini eyed the huge gong in front of her warily. Yeslick had been able to reforge the mallet, and it looked as good as new. "Well, this is it", the half-elf told her friends. "Watch out, there's no telling what will happen once I hit this thing. It could be anything. Dragons, demiliches, Durlag's own ghost…" She raised the mallet, squeezed her eyes shot, and then struck the gong. 

*Plink * The sound was an extremely unimpressive one. "That's it?" Edwin asked, looking incredulous. "We scavenge items all over this miserable cellar, then wait for hours for the dwarf to finish his smithing, and this is it? Not even a small dragon? What kind of a stupid gong is this?"

"You do not have to sound so disappointed", Jaheira chided him, shaking her head wearily. "A dragon would have slaughtered us all. "

"Maybe, maybe not. You, perhaps. Of course, my arcane skills would have seen me safely through."

"I am sure they would have. Through the nearest door, as the dragon fear took hold of you. I, for one, am pleased nothing bad happened." 

"Um…sorry to disturb", Imoen said a little nervously. "But doesn't it look like the gong is vibrating?"

Five heads turned as one to see what she was talking about. The gong was indeed vibrating, more and more rapidly with every second, and it was starting to glow a bright white. "Uh-Oh…", Rini said. The sound wasn't so much a sound, as a deep and powerful vibration that ran through her entire body, that hummed in her bones and her blood. It was deafening, and yet she did not hear it with her ears. _This is it_ , she thought. _Any minute now my brain will come pouring out of my ears._

Cold fear twisted her insides, the fear of death, the fear of the grave. She fancied she could almost see herself lying in her coffin, cold and white, prey to worms and maggots. She was fighting the urge to scream and whimper in terror, but she didn't know how much longer she could continue to do so. 

And then the terrible sound stopped, as abruptly as it had started, and the adventurers looked at each other, pale and shaky. "Now that", Edwin said in a slightly trembling voice, "that is what I call a real gong." 

The companions made their way back to the great central hall, without mishaps. So far, they'd seen no obvious effect of the gong. "We probably have to answer each riddle as well as provide the proper items", Zaerini said, watching the four marching warders. As she approached, they stopped in their tracks as they had before, watching her with their unblinking, lifeless eyes. The bard crossed the floor towards Love, the warder resembling a mage in red robes. As she tried to hand him the bottle of wine, he shook his head however. 

_You have what I require. Do first what my brothers ask of you. Then we may complete this riddle._

"Right", Rini said to herself. "If that's the way you want to play it." She next approached the warder resembling a thief. The metal dwarf opened its mouth and spoke the same rhyme as before. 

_I am the warrior's curse  
I steal his future  
I mar his past  
The more he has, the less it seems  
He becomes a slave  
Of glittering things_

"You are Avarice", Zaerini said, placing the glittering Beljuril stone in the warder's outstretched hand, "and this is what you crave." 

The warder nodded once, and then spoke again. 

_You have completed this riddle. I am AVARICE. I will bring doom upon you in this cursed place._

"Now, why don't I think that sounds very promising?" Edwin remarked in a casual voice. 

"I have to agree", Jaheira stated, watching the warder suspiciously. "Once we hand over the final item we should be prepared for an ambush." 

"Yes", Rini said, pushing her red hair out of her eyes to get a better look at the rest of the warders. "At least we should be safe until then though." She walked to the second dwarf, one of the warriors. 

_I am the warrior's bane  
I live in the darkness of his soul  
I bring him to his knees,  
Trembling and weeping  
Unable to lift a hand in his own defense_

_Yet I sleep - Awaken Me_

"You are Fear", the bard told the warder, "and that gong I just hit ought to be enough to awaken the dead." _And I sure hope it didn't._

This warder nodded as well, before speaking. 

_You have completed this riddle. I am FEAR. I will destroy you in this cursed place._

"Well, well", Edwin said in his most sarcastic voice. "These things just keep getting friendlier and friendlier, don't they? What's wrong with one promising to 'make us a nice dinner in this cursed place'? Or how about 'teleport us out of this cursed place'? (That does sound like a very preferable alternative.)" He knocked Fear on its metal head. "You there", he said, as Rini felt her heart leap into her throat. "How about it? Don't you want to take a break from all this 'destruction' business and prop up your feet for a while? How about a nice vacation on the Moonshae Islands, and we can guard the stairwell?" 

Fear simply stared at the Red Wizard, but he remained silent. 

"I guess not", Edwin said. "Pity. (Perhaps they could all be melted down for scrap-metal, that seems to be the one thing they are good for. They certainly don't excel at conversation.)" 

"Can you please", Zaerini hissed at the mage, "at least warn me before you get these suicidal urges? I thought he'd kill you!" 

"I'm not suicidal! I'm perfectly able to handle whatever these things might throw at us!"

"Really? Well, as for me I'd really, really prefer it if the thing they want to throw at us isn't your decapitated head! I think it looks far better in its proper place." 

"Children", Jaheria admonished. "Not now. There are two more warders to deal with, remember?" 

"Right", Zaerini said, feeling a little embarrassed. "I suppose so." She headed over to the third warder, another warrior. It spoke as she approached it. 

_I am the warrior's fate  
I raise him above his brethren  
I amplify his deeds  
He becomes scornful, where once he had respect  
He becomes a giant, where once he was a man_

_Yet I lack the proper honor - Raise me up in glory  
Through the chronicles of my deeds, pride shall be honored  
Through the passing of knowledge my sword shall display its glory  
Then you shall know that I am well pleased_

"You are Pride", the half-elf said, "and I have read of your deeds and will remember them. You have been honored." 

The metal dwarf nodded. 

_You have completed this riddle. I am PRIDE. I am the curse of this place._

"This is it", Zaerini nervously told her friends. "Just one left, and from what they've said already I really think we ought to be prepared for a fight." 

"It will be very d-dangerous", Khalid said, "but it s-s-seems we have no other choice."

"Not really, no. But I do have an idea about how we might make things easier. Jaheira and Yeslick, I'd like to have a word with you both…"

A few minutes later Rini walked up to the final dwarf. All the spells that had been cast on her made her body shimmer and glow as if she were made from metal herself, but she paid it no mind. Her friends were watching her from a distance away as she stared Love straight into his ruby-red eyes. 

"I have answered the riddles of your fellows", she told the guardian. "They are all satisfied. Now I will answer yours. You are Love." She placed the wine-bottle in the dwarf's hand. He didn’t look at it, just kept staring at her. 

_You have completed this riddle. You are worthy to pass through this portal, though I yet guard the key with my life._

_I am LOVE. I must be murdered in this cursed place._

Zaerini had expected it, but the attack still came as something of a shock, it was that quick. Avarice dove into the shadows, disappearing from sight, no doubt seeking a chance to get her from behind. Pride charged towards her, roaring a battle-cry made all the more horrifying by his metallic voice, and swinging a very large axe. Fear started to change, metal plates shifting and reconfiguring themselves as he transformed into a ghoulish shape that started lumbering towards her. And Love raised his hands and started chanting a spell, his ruby eyes still fixed upon her. 

_Now!_ she thought. _Let's see how quick you little boys can run…_

The hasting spell cast on her by Edwin made her much swifter than normal, and she was easily able to outdistance the three non-spellcasting warders. Yet she knew she mustn't lose them completely, or they'd be bound to go after her friends instead. The others were engaging Love in battle by now. She didn't have the time to see any details, but she could vaguely hear yelling, crashing noises and explosions. Fear, Pride and Avarice were the ones that mattered. Then she ran again, sincerely hoping that the other spells cast on her would work. 

_Almost there! Almost…there…_

And then she was rushing past burnt and charred corpses, kicking them aside, hearing disgusting things crunch beneath her feet. There was no time to be delicate. Speed was what was needed. Past the corpses, and then, just as the warders could almost reach her, through the open doorway in front of her. 

BOOOOM! The explosion was deafening, as five fireballs went off at the same time, triggered by the bard's feet. The fire was all around her, raging hot and hungry, flickering red and orange light all around. Heat in her eyes, against her face, in the air she breathed, fire everywhere, beautiful but deadly. And yet it did not burn her, didn't even singe her hair, though by all rights she should have suffered the same fate as those unlucky adventurers that had gone before her. The spells cast by Yeslick and Jaheira had done their work well, and the flames touched her gently, tugging at her hair, stroking her cheek, kissing her lips like a dream-lover. _So hot…So beautiful…_

The three warders following the bard weren't quite so lucky. Strong and swift they were, and well built. But they were not impervious to fire as she currently was, and now the delicate mechanisms inside their bodies melted and groaned, as they came to a creaking stop. One by one they toppled to the floor, making sounds like collapsing armories. Feeling almost giddy with triumph Zaerini turned on her heels and rushed back towards her friends, not caring about the fact that she set off all the traps once again. _Ha! See, Durlag? I'm using your own traps against you. So there._

Edwin, meanwhile, was feeling a surge of triumph as another volley of Magic Missiles kept Love from getting off a spell of his own, allowing the warriors of the group to close with him. The magic was buoying him, lifting his spirits as it always did, filling him with delight. The magic was life, pure life and energy, coursing through him like a raging river or a late autumn storm. Surely there was nothing that could compare to it. Love staggered as a fire arrow struck him. _Magic is the only kind of love I need, thank you very much. Yes, it certainly is_. Then the Red Wizard blinked. Where had that odd thought come from? It made no sense at all. 

He gave a minute shrug and went on with his casting, but now another nagging thought tried to distract him. _Where is she? Thrice-bedamned accursed Durlag, I'll dig his bones out of whichever hole holds them and grind them to powder if she's come to harm. I told her to be careful. What…what if they've caught up with her? What if…_

Then, just as his concentration almost broke, he raised his eyes and looked towards the door at the other end of the great hall. There was fire welling out of it, a large cloud of fire. Zaerini was emerging from that fire, almost as if she were taking form from within it, flame-red hair and glittering golden eyes clearly visible even at this distance, her gaze burning hot. Edwin hardly noticed as the red-robed dwarven wizard called 'Love' came crushing to the ground, several of Imoen's arrows sticking out of the chinks in his armor. He didn't hear Yeslick's and Imoen's happy cheering either. He just kept staring at the half-elf and the flickering fire surrounding her, as she met his eyes and smiled. _Fire…just…like in that…that dream I had. My…my fire cat…I think that must be what a deva looks like…_

And on the floor, the shadows almost made it seem as if Love had a small smile on his now lifeless face, as if he had finally fulfilled his mission.


	42. Echoes From The Past

**In The Cards 42 – Echoes From The Past**

_Betrayal is always a horrible thing, no matter who it is betraying you. Still, I think there can be none more hurtful than your own family, your very children or your devoted lover turning against you. Such a fate I wouldn’t wish upon anybody._

_Excerpt from ‘Ruminations Of A Master Bard’_

There was a tearstain on one of the older pages of the diary. Just one, and near the spine of the book, where the writer probably hadn’t noticed it. If there had been any others they were no longer in evidence, though here and there pages seemed to have been angrily torn out. And on the later pages there also weren’t any, for by the time those were penned the writer had left most of his human emotions behind.

Dekaras stared at the final entry of the diary, not really seeing it. The assassin knew better than to try reading the dangerous volume while inside the Iron Throne compound of course. He did not want to risk being caught with it, and so had brought it with him to the room he still kept at the Elfsong. He had hoped to find valuable information within it; some weakness in Sarevok that might be exploited, and so help insure Edwin’s continued survival. _And he certainly needs all the help I can give him in that area, as reckless as he is_ , he thought, _I wish I knew what’s keeping him so long, they ought to have reached the city by now._

What Dekaras hadn’t counted on was the strange resonance he felt within the darkest, most secretive corners of his soul as he read the diary, every other word or sentence bringing back thoughts and feelings he usually kept deeply buried. Fear. Pain. Abandonment. Hatred. And the anger, the terrible black rage that wanted to strike and destroy everything around it, that was a desperate hunger, craving blood to fill the void within. 

_I have walked the same road as he has, or one akin to it at least_. The assassin turned the pages back again with a sort of sick fascination, unable to put the diary down just yet. There was a haunted look on his sharp face as he found a particular entry. Yes…very familiar indeed. This entry had been written by a young Sarevok, still a child in fact, and not a happy one. 

_Reiltar gave me another beating today, for ‘looking insolent’. I wasn’t, not really. But he likes to hit me, he always has. It doesn’t matter if I try to be good, if he wants to, he’ll hit me anyway. Mother tried to talk to him, but he struck her in the face, and she fell down. Then when I tried to keep him from hurting her more, he got really mad._

_It was some time before I woke up this time. I suppose it’s lucky I did, in a way. Mother and Winski would miss me if I were gone. But it hurts really badly, especially when I breathe. I think something inside me may be broken. Winski ought to be home soon. If I’m feeling strong enough, I’ll go find him and ask for help. But I’m afraid to do it, that he might say it’s too late to do anything. Stupid of me. I’m not a baby anymore. And it’s not as if it’s the first time either. And Winski will help me, I know he will. He always does. I think he hates Reiltar almost as much as I do._

_I hope Mother is all right. She wasn’t there when I woke up, and she usually is when Reiltar’s finished with me. I won’t call him Father. I won’t. Not here, it’s bad enough that I have to do it when I talk to him. I hate him, and I wish he were dead. I really do. I hate him. I hate him, I hate him, I hate him._

_The worst times are when he hurts Mother. I can hear it through the walls, and I want to help her, but I can’t. Sometimes he makes her scream. He likes making people scream. I try not to, but sometimes I can’t help it. I hate him. I hate him so much._

_He owns us all, you know. All of us here, he often says so. And he says I should be grateful, that he took me from the streets and gave me a home and a family. I’m grateful for Mother, and for Winski. I wish he could be my Father instead. But I’ll never be grateful for Reiltar. I hate him so much, it makes me hurt inside._

_I know a good game though. Sometimes, late at night, I make up different ways of killing him, and try to make them more and more painful. I’d like to hear him scream the way he makes Mother scream. I’d like that a lot. And I’m good at thinking up these things, and at fighting, and even killing. I’ve always been, much better than somebody my age should be, Winski says. He says he’ll try to help me find out why I’m like that. But whatever it is, it makes me stronger, and that’s good. When I’m big and strong enough I can hurt Reiltar and keep him from hurting us. That’s what so good about the Killing thoughts, and the Killing Dreams. Being scared makes me weak, but hating makes me stronger. I’m growing stronger every day. I think one day I’ll be really, really strong._

Dekaras paused in his reading, his face tense and drawn. _Yes_ , he thought, as he touched the page with something that almost resembled tenderness.. _That was more or less what it was like, wasn’t it? The humiliation and rage at knowing yourself powerless, of suffering pain at the hands of another. The craving for revenge. The warmth that can be had from hatred. The thoughts that no child should need to have. I remember those well._ He could feel more than a little of that anger coming back right now, in fact. Judging from the diary entries it seemed that Sarevok had suffered terrible abuse at the hands of his foster father for many years. And it got worse than the beatings. Sarevok’s foster mother had lived to see him reach his full height, but no more than that. Another entry described her death. 

_Mother…mother is dead. We found her on the floor, cold and bloated. She had been garroted, the cord had dug deeply into her flesh, she was all blue and her eyes were bulging and her tongue…it was all swollen and puffed up. I can’t remember what I did the first hour afterwards. It’s all a black hole inside my head, but my hands are hurting, and my voice is raw. I think I must have hit something, probably screaming while I did it. I can’t remember. I can’t remember any of it._

_Winski wouldn’t move from her. He just kept staring at her, saying nothing at all. He looks almost like he’s dead as well. If he is, then Reiltar’s responsible for his death as well as Mother’s. He will die for that. It was him who did this; I know it. He looks so triumphant, so pleased with himself. If he had been there when first we found Mother, then I would have torn his head from his body with my bare hands. Only Tamoko kept me from doing so, saying that there was no proof, and that the law would come after me, and that Reiltar would win if I was destroyed along with him. She is right, though it’s only now that I can see it. Revenge will come, but at a proper time._

_But that is for later. My thoughts are wild, I want nothing more than blood and death, and there is a strange voice whispering at the edge of my mind, speaking of how sweet it would be to drink Reiltar’s blood and rip him to pieces. I fear that I may be going insane. Mother…please help me. I need you. I miss you so much._

Dekaras got up from the table, fighting a sudden urge to toss the book out a window. He really didn’t want to know all these things. That mixture of Sarevok’s hatred for his father and grief for his mother struck far too close to home. _Except in my case I hated both my parents_ , he thought with a bitter twist to his mouth. _And I missed them both as well, even after what they allowed to happen. I’d forgotten exactly how much, on both accounts._

Some of the entries described Sarevok’s relationship with Tamoko, the warrior woman. A meeting of two souls destined for each other, or so it seemed at first. But then as time progressed Sarevok also gained another interest, an almost fanatical one. 

_I know the truth now, one entry started. It is as I have always suspected, I am no ordinary man. The blood of a dead god runs through my veins, the blood of Bhaal, the Lord of Murder. This explains it all, my great strength and speed, even as an untrained youth. My dreams, where I now know that my true Father speaks to me. Even that strange resistance of mine, the near imperviousness to magic that Winski has always found so puzzling. I certainly need fear no wizardry, though Winski keeps telling me that I should be less sure of myself lest I come to harm. He doesn’t understand. How could he? He doesn’t feel the pull of the blood, the growing divinity._

_Winski will help me though, as he always has. We will find a way to help me ascend my Father’s Throne, and I will finally have the power I need to live free. If I do not wish others to rule me, then I must make certain I rule them, and that they fear me. Reiltar certainly will. I still play the part of the dutiful son, but I will not do so forever. His time will come._

_I wish Tamoko would be more enthusiastic about my grand destiny. It seems to frighten her, she who is so utterly fearless otherwise. I cannot understand it, but she will change her mind once she sees me truly wield my Father’s power. She will. She has to._

Now the entries progressed to describe Sarevok’s plans, the iron plague scheme, the bandits raiding the coast way, the iron from the Cloakwood Mines being supplied by the Iron Throne as a means of gaining both money and popularity. Dekaras already knew most of this, but what followed was new to him, new and chilling. 

_The Grand Dukes will fall, as our plans are near complete. The doppelgangers are doing their work, infiltrating the nobility, and I will have all the support I need to be selected. Once I rule the City nothing will stop me from completing the Plan. We have already started enough rumors about Amn being behind the iron crisis that igniting the populace will be easy. There will be war, and the Sword Coast will run red with blood. Blood and death enough to trigger my Ascendance, as I perform the final ceremony in my Father’s old Temple. Soon, it will all be mine. I will be the new Lord of Murder._

_There is the nagging problem of my little sister, however. A small problem, but an annoying one. She has proved surprisingly difficult to kill so far. Perhaps Slythe and Kristin will be able to deal with her. I shall mention it to them, though they have a lot to deal with already. Of course, I would much prefer to kill her myself. She has earned that courtesy._

There were some more entries, similar to this one, speaking more and more of Sarevok’s Grand Scheme, less and less of those more human concerns that had permeated the early ones. _The blood of Bhaal is getting to him_ , Dekaras thought. _He is more than half insane already, I think. Not that I can blame him. Had that power been promised to me in my darkest hour, I do not doubt that I would have seized upon it, just as he did. I can see just how tempting it would be to become Lord of Murder, to be a god. Impervious to pain, to suffering, to longing. Yes, that would have been very tempting. So easy to fall for the lies, for lies they must be. If Bhaal truly exists still in some form, then he will never pass on his power to his children. Poor Sarevok._

The assassin shivered a little as he put the diary down for the second time. He did feel true pity for Sarevok, he realized. The Sarevok who had been, the abused and lonely child. And the Sarevok who was, deluded into believing that this mad scheme might actually work. Doomed, even if he should succeed. A kindred spirit, in certain ways, determined to find his own way in the world and fight to get what he wanted. _And yet I cannot allow that pity to influence me in any way. I have my own fights. I care little who sits the Throne of Murder, and this war of yours does not concern me. But you threaten one of the few people in the world that do concern me, and I cannot allow that_.

Keeping Edwin alive and safe, that was the only reason why he was here after all. And right now, doing so meant to help keep Zaerini safe as well; making sure Sarevok didn’t wipe her out along with those who followed her. That meant trying to remove Sarevok from the equation, as quickly as possible. Dekaras thought about this for a few moments. There was something he’d read, something that was giving him a vague idea. Yes. It was a possibility, an angle of attack that Sarevok wouldn’t be expecting, but it hinged on finding the proper means and opportunity to carry the plan out. Still, he would keep it in mind, even as he searched for alternative options. He should have been pleased, and he was, partially. But he could take no real joy in the thought of Sarevok’s death, not after reading that diary. Not after sharing that pain, that rage, that confusion.

_I am sorry, Sarevok_ , the assassin thought as he closed the diary again and slipped it into a hidden pocket. _Truly I am. But I will do what I have to do. Somehow, I think you would understand that. I cannot afford to do otherwise._

And as he told himself that, not for the first time, he almost managed to forget the stain of a single tear on a yellowed page. Almost. 

_Quite deep within Durlag’s Tower…_

“Yeslick?” Imoen asked. “Any idea how many cellars this place has?”

The dwarf thought for a moment before he answered. “Four or five, I think”, he said. 

“And we’re only past the first one yet”, Zaerini sighed. “Oh well. Nothing to do but go on. I just hope there aren’t any more metal dwarves waiting for us.”

“I’m sure there aren’t”, Yeslick said. 

“Oh?”

“Oh, aye. Durlag wouldn’t have repeated himself. Whatever else is down here is bound to be something different.”

“Of course,” Edwin said, “different in this context probably means ‘something infinitely worse’. (Well, at least we’ll get an impressive tomb.)”

“Would you stop being so gloomy?” Rini snapped. “You’re starting to remind me of Xan.” Edwin had been acting rather strange lately, almost as if he were trying to make up his mind about something and couldn’t quite take that final step. And ever since the defeat of the warders he’d been watching her whenever he thought she didn’t notice. 

“What?!” the Red Wizard indignantly responded. “That droopy elf? Clearly the madness that haunted Durlag must be infesting your miniscule brain if you compare me with that miserable excuse for a mage. (I ought to leave her right here and let her fend for herself without my incomparable arcane skills to drag her out of whatever messes she gets herself into.)” 

“Ha!” the bard exclaimed, grinning at the surprised wizard. “I thought that would perk you up. Nothing like a few friendly insults to get the blood flowing quicker, right Eddie?” She was greatly amused and pleased to see the annoyed expression on the wizard’s face melt and give way to surprise, and then to a faint smile. _He should smile more often. It looks good on him._

“Hmpf”, Edwin said, still with a quirky half-smile on his face. “As long as you recognize my superior…”

“Ego? That was what you were going to say, wasn’t it?” The redheaded half-elf could barely keep from laughing out loud. _He looks like somebody who just had a rug pulled out from under him_. “That’s all right, Eddie”, she said. “I like your superior ego. I guess it’s sort of grown on me.” She tossed a smooth rock into the air and deftly caught it with one hand. It was marked with a dwarven rune, and it had fallen out of the dead ‘Love’s hand. A wardstone. “We have the key. Let’s see what else Durlag has to offer his guests.”

The staircase ended up in a circular and empty room, with many doors, all of them locked. Imoen struggled with the locks for some time, but to no avail. 

“L-look”, Khalid suddenly whispered. “Writing, there on the w-walls.” And so it was. Spidery runes, carved into the very rocks of the walls, with something strangely desperate about them. 

Yeslick moved closer. “It is dwarven”, he said. “Divided into four paragraphs. ‘Moved ne'er by rage and ne'er by anger, cold is the trait'rous doppelganger.’ The second reads: ‘Too young to fight, except to fall, here died my son, young Fuernebol.’ The third one, over here, that says: ‘Islanne, my wife, I love you still. 'Twas just your form they made me kill.’ And the final one, here, that says: ‘Oh Kiel, Clan-prince of this dark tower, you made your death your finest hour.’”

“Am I understanding you correctly?” Jaheira asked as she looked more closely at the runes. “Are you saying this was written by…”

“By Durlag Trollkiller himself, aye.” Yeslick’s face was unusually grim. “The dopplegangers mimicked his kin, betrayed him in their forms, made him kill them, slaughter the likenesses of those he loved. Small wonder the dwarf was driven mad.”

“Poor Durlag”, Imoen said, her eyes shiny. “That is so horrible. Imagine being betrayed by somebody you love, even if they couldn’t really help it since it wasn’t really them, but you know what I mean. I think I’d rather die.”

“Yes”, Rini said, staring at the pathetic markings on the wall. “It’s really awful. And imagine having to hurt somebody you loved, even if you had no other choice. Sure, it wasn’t really them, but I don’t think it would feel much different. What do you think, Edwin?”

“Me?” the wizard said. He’d been looking at the runes, seemingly deep in thought about something. “Nothing! Absolutely nothing. It’s got nothing to do with me after all. Nothing at all…” He stalked off down the one open passage in front of the adventurers, and he would say nothing more on the subject. 

The passage ended in a long room with a very ugly carpet on the floor. “Eeewww!” Imoen exclaimed. “That looks like a doppleganger. And look, its eyes follow you wherever you go in the room!”

“Well, Yeslick”, Rini said. “Durlag may have had many good traits, but decorating really wasn’t one of them, now was it? I’d call this style ‘Neo-Horror’ myself. Or possibly ‘Spooky Grossness’.” 

Imoen, meanwhile, had already darted around the room, and now her eyes settled upon an object on the wall. “Oh look!” she said. “A switch. Let’s see what it does.” As soon as the pink-haired thief pulled it a rumbling sound could be heard, as of a door opening nearby. “Neat!” she said. “A secret door.”

“Yes”, Jaheira agreed. “You are very fortunate it was not a lethal spike trap. You were supposed to keep an eye out for traps, remember?”

“Oops. Sorry. Will do.” 

As it turned out the door opened into a small practice chamber, with three large practice dummies standing in one corner. That was it. No foes, no treasure. Nothing. Well, nothing except for a pair of rather nasty Stinking Cloud and lightning traps in the corner that Imoen dealt with quickly enough. “Something is wrong here”, Jaheira flatly stated. “I can sense it. Be on your guard.”

“Oh, come on”, Edwin said. “Surely you aren’t frightened of these old things?” He gave the leftmost of the three dummies a disparaging blow with his staff. As soon as he hit it the stone door leading into the entrance slammed shut behind the adventurers, almost taking off Khalid’s heels. “Ah”, Edwin said, looking a little embarrassed. “Upon further consideration, perhaps I should not have done that. (I wish I could have a few minutes alone with Durlag one of these days. Just me, him, a soundproof room and a rusty fork.)”

“Oh really?” Jaheira said. “Whatever gave you that idea? By Silvanus, I wonder how you managed to survive to adult age. You must have been enough to run even an army of guardian spirits ragged.” 

“Sssh! Zaerini hissed. “Can’t you hear it? Somebody is coming.” And so it seemed. There were footsteps, heavy and dragging footsteps, coming closer and closer. But they were coming from behind a blank wall. Then the wall swung aside, and a short figure stepped out from behind a previously hidden door. He seemed to be a fairly old dwarf, fair of hair and beard, and wearing heavy chainmail. 

“Ho there, friend” Yeslick hailed the dwarf. “Who are you, and what brings you to this place?”

The dwarf simply stared right through him, eyes unseeing and empty. “Ah, Fuernebol, my son”, he spoke. “Trade your bow for a lute and play something mournful for your father, will ye?” 

“Fuernebol!” Jaheira exhaled. “Durlag’s younger son! That is the visage of Durlag himself!”

_Durlag’s Ghost!_ Rini thought, feeling a deep chill run down her back. _I don’t like this. I really, really, really don’t like this._

_Steady, kitten_ , Softpaws warned, watching the strange dwarf with unwavering eyes. _That is no ghost, it is flesh and blood._

_Flesh and blood? But then…_

“Why do ye hesitate, my child?” ‘Durlag’ said, his voice now stern. “'Tis your father's face beneath this beard.”

“S-stay away!” Khalid said. “Come n-no closer!” He had his bow out by now, and the other adventurers were readying weapons of their own. 

The strange dwarf’s face suddenly twisted into a mask of fury. “Augh! ...Fire upon your very father, would ye, dwarfling?” he sneered. “Thsss, don't make me laugh! Ah, the meatssss makessss me laugh…” With that his features rippled and changed, the face of a dwarf warrior melting away to be replaced by a grey and leathery one. 

“Doppleganger!” Rini just had time to scream. Then she could hear the hiss of approaching gas and saw a green cloud rushing towards her as the doppleganger smiled and prepared to cast another spell. She was choking, gasping, and unable to breathe. The last thing she could see was the hungry gaze of the doppleganger, and then she fell into darkness. Her eyelids were heavy, so very heavy. She didn't think she could move her arms or legs either. But there was sweet air rushing into her lungs, giving them blessed relief. She was so very sleepy though…

_Kitten? Kitten, you need to wake up now. Everybody is waiting._

_Softpaws?_ Zaerini asked, once again trying in vain to open her eyes. _What happened?_

_You got hit by a Stinking Cloud spell, remember? You've been out for some time. By the way, did you know that you have very interesting dreams? Very naughty too._

_No I don't! And if I did, I'm sure I would remember them._

_You're just suppressing your urges. There's nothing wrong with wanting to mate. All cats do._

_Well, I'm not a cat. At least not at the moment. And I don't have any…'urges', thank you very much. And I don't want to 'mate'._

_That's what you think kitten. Oh, look there. Seems somebody is planning to kiss you awake, just like in that old story. How sweet. Mind the beard though. I'm sure it tickles._

_WHAT?!_ The bard involuntarily jerked rapidly into a sitting position, her golden eyes staring wildly about her as she tried to get her bearings. Unfortunately, her sudden movement also meant that her head collided rather violently with Yeslick's. The dwarven priest was bending over her, apparently about to perform some sort of healing spell. 

"Ow!" Rini cried out, massaging her aching forehead. She immediately found herself steadied by a strong dwarven hand as Yeslick's kindly face peered into her own with a worried expression. 

"Lass?" the dwarf said, sounding concerned. "Is something wrong?"

"Wrong? Uh…no, no. Not at all. I just thought…that is…I thought you were…never mind." She could feel her cheeks growing hotter by the second, and she most definitely did not want to explain herself further. She kept her eyes steadily fixed on the fading writing on the wall. In this room the writing was in Common and said: Soft walks the trait'rous doppelganger, Into my dear son's practice chamber.

_Speaking of dopplegangers…How could I possibly believe that Yeslick was…was…somebody else._

_Sorry to disappoint you, kitten_ , Softpaws said, not sounding the least sorry. The black cat was perched on top of the sparring dummies, in the process of sharpening her claws on the aged leather. _But at least it woke you up, didn't it?_

_I could have got anything. A fairy dragon. An imp. A raven, a rat, a fox, a…a plague-infested bat. Anything. And I have to wind up with a cat that's a dedicated sadist._

_Come now, kitten. Don't be grumpy. Don't you think it was funny?_

_NO!_

_Strange…I did. You two-legs have no sense of humour whatsoever._

As it turned out, the doppleganger had been permanently dealt with during Zaerini's brief fainting spell and lay in a messy wet heap on the floor near the sparring dummies. Perhaps even more importantly, striking the sparring dummy had opened an alternate passage back to the central hall, the one with the doppleganger carpet. "And now we are back in the exact spot where we started", Jaheira said. "Where to now, fearless leader?" It would have been easy to mistake the comment for a barbed criticism, but Rini had known the druid long enough by now to catch the tiny hint of a smile on her face and the fact that her trademark glare was lacking. 

"Oh, I don't know…" the bard drawled. "We could hang around here for the rest of our natural life-spans, I suppose. Or…"

"Or?"

"Or we could try pulling this other switch that we haven't tried yet." The half-elf immediately let action follow her words, and once again there was the rumbling sound of an opening door. This time it was the southern door in the entry chamber, directly opposite the one leading to the sparring dummies. It led to a bedroom, a rich, elegant and somehow vaguely feminine one. 

The floor was set with red and white tiles in a decorative pattern, there was a carpet that had once been beautiful and soft but now was a moth-eaten and mouldy mess, and a huge canopied bed with deep red curtains. 

"Stylish", Edwin remarked. "I see Durlag had some taste after all."

"Aw, come on", Imoen said with a grin. "You just like it 'cos it's all in red."

"I do not! (And if I do, it makes no difference. Red is after all the king of colours, unlike feeble pink.)" 

"Look here", Khalid said, pointing at the ceiling. "There's m-more writing…" This time the gloomy sentence had been painted onto the ceiling with what looked like old blood, mixed with something vaguely phosphorescent. It read: Foul mimic of the mortal man, 'Twas in my shape they killed Islanne.

"Islanne", Jaheira said. "Durlag's wife. This may have been her chambers."

"Poor woman", Imoen said, sniffing. "Killed by the man she loved…it's so sad. If Adahn were to kill me I'd be totally heartbroken for weeks…"

"Yes", Edwin said. "Dead people usually aren't that lively, are they? (Not that I think he would kill her, but one never knows. It'd be no more than she deserves, mooning after him like that.)"

Zaerini hardly listened to the bickering behind her, she was busy pulling out the drawer next to the bed. There was a stone inside, a pretty stone with red markings all over it, and it reminded her of the other wardstones she'd seen so far. Hesitantly she reached out her fingers to touch it, surprised to find it hot to the touch, almost as if it were alive. And then there was a voice behind her back, a very familiar and unwelcome voice. 

" Mmm, Islanne. Your hair is down, my love..."

_Oh, great. Just great. Him again. Mr Nutball Dwarf himself._

Indeed, it was the same visage of Durlag that they had encountered before, with the same frightening devotion on his face. He was coming towards her, his arms outstretched, smiling widely. 

"Er…" Rini said. "I feel I should tell you at this point that I'm not your wife. Or even a dwarf. Just thought you ought to know." She gestured frantically for her friends to move behind the ghostly apparition. Durlag paid her no heed. 

"'Tis time we slept, my sweetling..." he simply said, sounding very tender. 

_Oh dear. That is definitely not an option. Not with the doppleganger of a several centuries old dead dwarf, and a married one to boot_. "Can't we do something else instead?" she tried. "Maybe…maybe play hide and seek or something? I can hide."

Durlag kept advancing, but now the devotion on his face was changing, twisting into something dark and horrible. Suddenly Zaerini knew what she was seeing, knew that this was what the unfortunate Islanne had faced just before she died, these were the words she had heard spoken.

"The torches gutter and darkness falls", the dwarf intoned. "Islanne, my love, my love, my love, my thsss, my thssssss..." Whatever the doppleganger was about to say or do never got said. A Magic Missile from Edwin hit him in the back, swiftly followed by a Flame Arrow that burned its way clean through his stomach. The doppleganger hissed and screamed with rage, turning towards the enemies behind it, but Jaheira and Khalid were there to meet it, and it soon fell, its head neatly severed from its grey and wrinkly body. 

"Thanks, you guys", Rini told her friends with a small shudder. "That was really unpleasant." 

"No need to thank us, child", Jaheira said. "Gorion did wish us to be your guardians, and part of that duty includes dealing with unsuitable men who may be a danger to you. I would say this one qualified." 

"Most certainly", Edwin agreed. "Any man trying to lay a finger on you against your wishes will soon find himself sadly in lack of said appendage. (And probably of other assorted body-parts as well.)" 

"Ah…thank you Edwin", the bard said, feeling a little surprised by the wizard's vehemence but strangely pleased by it nevertheless. "That's…very nice of you. I'll make certain to let you know if I ever need anybody dismembered, shall I?" _It…really is a rather sweet thought. In a totally ruthless, yet oddly endearing way._

Once again the door they had entered through had closed behind them, but once again the doppleganger had entered through yet another secret passage, and the adventurers could easily make their way back to what they had now started to refer to as the Really Ugly Carpet room. 

"No more switches", Imoen said. "Now what?"

"Let's go back to the entry room", Rini suggested. "Perhaps we've missed something." There were no more secret doors to be seen though, and the bard sighed with frustration. "There has to be something", she complained. "There must be another staircase, leading further down, and there must be a way to access it. We're missing something blatantly obvious; I know we are." Then she turned to see her friends staring at her very strangely. "What?"

"Oh, nothing much", Edwin remarked. "Unless you count the small detail that your backpack just started glowing a bright red."

"Huh?" The half-elf twisted her head around to see that the wizard was correct. Her backpack was glowing, a deep and throbbing ruby red glow. As she pulled it open, she found the source of the light to be the red stone she'd found in Islanne's chamber. 

"I know what to do!" Imoen exclaimed excitedly. "Here, let me have it!" The pink-haired thief proceeded to hold the glowing stone aloft, running it along the walls like a torch. Once she passed it over a certain spot there was the groaning sound of moving rocks, and a large stone slab slid aside, revealing a door where none had been visible before.

"That was really clever, Immy", Zaerini told her friend admiringly. "How did you think of it?"

Imoen grinned. "It's a rogue thing", she said. "If you can't pick a lock with your lockpicks, you should try using your brain instead."

"Let me guess. Adahn told you that."

"Mmmm…" Imoen's smile was dreamy. "He knows lots of things. And he's so sweet beneath that aloof attitude, really, really sweet." 

"No, he's not!" Edwin violently protested, looking almost personally insulted. "Er…I mean…I wouldn't think so. And I'm sure he'd be deeply insulted if you were to imply any such thing. Not that I would know, but it's an educated guess."

"Don't be silly. He is sweet I tell you, I've talked to him more than you have." The rogue blithely ignored the by now rather murderous and immensely frustrated look on the Red Wizard's face. "And of course, he has those divine…"

"Yes, yes", Rini hastily said, not wanting to go into details about Adahn's divine somethings. "I'm sure you're right. But as he isn't here right now, you'll have to do without him for the moment." She pointed at the open door. "In the meantime, Crackpot Durlag and his House of Horrors will have to do for an alternate source of entertainment…"


	43. Trick Or Trap

**In The Cards 43 – Trick Or Trap**

_I did mention that I hate traps, didn’t I? I’m almost certain of it, but I’m sure it deserves mentioning again. The worst kind of trap, the most fiendish of them all, is the one that lulls you into a sense of false security. Then, just when you think you’re safe – WHAM! You get shot, electrocuted or burnt. Another thing about traps is that there’s something about them that seems to entice thieves into showing off. And while they may act as if they have no concept of the word ‘danger’, even going so far as to spout clever commentary as they work, that sort of thing can be pretty nerve-wracking for the rest of the party._

_Excerpt from ‘Ruminations Of A Master Bard’_

The new door turned out to lead into a sort of throne room, an oblong chamber with a stone throne on top of a small dais at one end, and a rotting golden carpet on the floor. 

“Not bad”, Edwin said, sitting down on the throne. “Not bad at all.” The wizard’s face looked very pleased as he straightened his back and looked down his nose at an imaginary adoring crowd. “I think I was born to sit in a seat like this one.”

“What?” Rini asked. “A cold stone slab in the middle of a deranged dwarf’s dungeon? If so, then perhaps you ought to have a word or two with your mother.”

“Ha. Ha. Very funny. What I meant was that I was born to rule. I do come from a long line of powerful wizards, after all. (Yes, I can see it now. The tributes, the treasures, the adulation of the masses. A line of delightful concubines eager to worship at my feet, gasping with excitement at being allowed into my august presence.)”

The bard snorted briefly. “Whatever you say, Eddie. I just think that unless you select your kingdom very carefully a throne will become a royal pain in the backside more often than not.” 

“Here’s something interesting”, Imoen said, pointing at something on the floor. “Looks like a helmet. And there’s some more writing too.”

“Let me see”, Yeslick said, walking over to peer at the runes etched into the floor. “It says: ‘Here fell Kiel, the Legion-killer.’ Kiel was Durlag’s eldest son, and his heir. This would have been the place he died.” He then proceeded to pick the helmet up. 

Immediately there was a hissing sound as a panel in the wall slid aside and ‘Durlag’ stepped out once again, beaming at the adventurers. 

_Not AGAIN!_ Rini thought. _Can’t they think of a new trick, this is getting dull?_

“Kiel, my first-born, why so stern all the time?” the old dwarf said. “Come down from that throne and revel with your family for a spell. You and I have…”

Then he was quiet as a large number of Magic Missiles struck him in the face, followed by one of Imoen’s arrows up his nose, Khalid’s sword through his ribs, Jaheira’s scimitar through his guts and to top things off Yeslick’s hammer crashing into his kneecaps. 

“Oh, just shut up”, Edwin told the dead doppleganger. “Honestly, how many times do you expect us to fall for the same ploy? Why not try impersonating somebody else for a change? (I wouldn’t mind seeing Elminster myself. It would be an acceptable substitute until the day comes when I can humble the real thing.)”

Lifting the helm had made two doors open, one to the north and one to the south. The adventurers took the northern one, passing through a room where traps littered the floor everywhere, leaving hardly any floor between them. It was a long and tedious hour’s wait while Imoen crawled about on her hands and knees, disarming them one by one. Finally, the way was clear. The party passed through the room and was just about to enter the next chamber from where they could see a dull red glow emanating. It was then that they heard a strange voice behind them, and felt the air turn cold around them. 

“Durlag! Durlag, my _taerin_! Do not do this thing. It is I, Islanne!” Zaerini turned around to see a dwarven woman, her lustrous brown hair and beard neatly bearded, her dress plain but beautiful, a heavy gold circlet around her neck. Next to her stood two younger dwarves, both of them resembling her enough that they had to be her children. They were both armed and ready for battle. “Durlag”, the woman said again, her voice filled with love and despair. “You know me. It is Islanne. These are our children. Remember them? Remember our love?” Her eyes widened with sudden fear as she stared at something behind Zaerini and her friends, something no longer there. “You…you are not my Durlag! Your face…it…it is melting. Durlag! No! Nooooooo!” With an agonizing wail the dwarf woman and her two companions disappeared from sight, dissolving into empty air. 

“I don’t think that was a doppleganger”, Imoen said, staring at the spot where the woman had stood.

“That w-was a ghost”, Khalid said. “P-poor woman. She s-s-seemed so afraid.” 

“As she would have been on the night she died”, Yeslick said, his voice sad. “That was Islanne, the wife of Durlag. Killed by doppelgangers wearing his face like a mask.” He took out a large red-and-white checkered handkerchief and blew his nose loudly, then cleared his throat. “Got something in me eye…”

“Yeslick?” Zaerini asked. “What does ‘taerin’ mean?”

The dwarf blew his nose again. “It means ‘love’, lass”, he said. “True love.” 

“Yes”, Jaheira said, nodding. “When you know love, then you also risk the deepest pain. As in this case, the terrible pain of believing yourself betrayed by the one you love.” 

“She would have been better off if she’d never loved in the first place”, Edwin said, his voice tense. “That would have spared her.”

“I d-don’t think so”, Khalid said, giving his wife a fond look. “True love is worth some p-pain and r-risk.” 

Jaheira smiled briefly. “True”, she said. “Though I hardly think I need fear anybody imitating you, my husband. I do not think any doppleganger would be able to accurately reproduce your snores.”

“J-j-jaheira I don’t s-snore!”

“No? And how would you know, seeing that you are asleep as you do it? Now I, on the other hand…”

“J-jaheira, if I k-keep you awake you m-may always awaken me to keep you company. S-sleep is somewhat o-overrated anyway.”

Imoen giggled. “Oh geez, you two!” she exclaimed. “Get a room or something!” The adventurers were then treated to the rare and unusual sight of seeing Jaheira’s cheeks turn faintly pink. “You know, Jaheira”, Imoen said in an innocent voice, “that color looks really pretty on you…” 

A trapped container in the next room held yet another wardstone, one that caused a rune on the floor to glow brightly. Hardly had she touched it before Rini felt a lurching sensation in the pit of her stomach and then the world swirled around her. When everything settled down, she found herself in a room identical to the previous one, like a mirror image. 

“Some form of teleport spell”, Edwin said, examining the rune on the floor with a fascinated look on his face. “Interesting. I wonder if it could be adapted to be cast without the item. Pity we don’t have the time to spare doing some research. Imagine the possibilities! Teleporting into locked treasure vaults, private libraries of forbidden lore, the storerooms of magic shops…” 

“Hey”, Imoen said, “you have some good instincts for larceny you know. You sure you don’t want to be a rogue rather than a wizard?” 

“Quite sure. Nothing compares to the thrill of magic.”

“Oh, I don’t know”, Imoen said in a preoccupied voice. “Once I might have been interested in trying out magic, but I’ve changed my mind now. I’m gonna be a really, really clever and skilled rogue instead, the kind that can steal your teeth without you noticing it. That’s sort of like doing magic without magic, and that’s really impressive.” She paused. “Rini? When we’re done here, we’re going to Baldur’s Gate, right?”

Zaerini sighed. “Yes, Immy”, she said in an infinitely patient voice. “We are. You’ve asked me this about thirty times already and I haven’t changed my mind. And no, I’m sure neither Edwin nor I know of a spell to enable you to see what Adahn is doing in the meantime. Besides, even if we did, I’m sure he wouldn’t enjoy you playing peeping tom.” 

“I’m not!” Imoen protested, shaking her head so violently that her pink hair danced about her face.

“Then how come this question mainly appears to crop up at night? Admit it, Immy. You want to see what he wears in bed, and you hope it isn’t very much. Either that or you hope to catch him taking a bath. Don’t you think so too, Edwin?”

The Red Wizard drew himself up to his full height, looking very much put out. “This entire discussion is extremely inappropriate”, he said in a stiff voice. “I have no desire whatsoever to contribute to your…your deranged fantasies. (Twisted. Utterly twisted. I never would have expected a girl her age to be capable of such.)”

“Oh, come on, Eddie”, the bard said, flashing the wizard a quick grin. “Don’t be so prissy, you’re starting to sound like this preachy knight that visited Candlekeep once when I was ten. He didn’t loosen up until I greased the stairs to the chapel. Besides, Immy has good taste.”

“Yup”, Imoen agreed. “The best. I mean, even if you’re not a girl you have to admit that he’s good-looking. That face, that poise, that voice. Not to mention those really hot…”

Edwin clasped his hands across his ears. “I don’t want to hear this!” he protested. “It’s…it’s just wrong! (Utterly, utterly wrong beyond all measure. And I really don’t want to know which word she was about to say. I don’t even want to think about it.)”

“And he can be really nice too, beneath that ‘deadly menace’ attitude. Really sweet. You should try to get to know him better, then you’d see what I mean.”

Edwin was practically foaming at the mouth by now. “I don’t need to ‘get to know him better’”, he snarled. “And you have no idea what you’re talking about at all.” 

“’Course I do. I love him after all. Just because you don’t like him…”

BANG! An enormous fireball hit the wall, making it shake and shudder, turning it entirely black. It wasn’t close enough to risk any serious harm to Imoen, but it was an obvious warning. Imoen just stared at Edwin, mouth open, shocked into silence. 

“Take that back right now!” the Red Wizard hissed. 

“That’s enough!” Rini said in a sharp voice. “Immy, stop teasing him. And as for you…” She glared fiercely at the wizard. “Don’t ever threaten my sister again.” She kept staring at him, her golden eyes blazing furiously, not looking away from his dark ones until she saw an almost imperceptible nod. “What’s wrong with you?” she then said in a low voice, pulling Edwin aside. “Please don’t tell me that you’re in love with Adahn too, and that you’re being jealous of Immy.”

The horrified and dumbstruck look on Edwin’s face was enough to convince her of the wrongness of that particular theory. _Fortunately. I really don’t think I could have coped with that particular situation. For various reasons._

“What?” Edwin sputtered. “No! Of course I’m not ‘in love’ with him! That’s ridiculous!”

“Not really”, Rini said, feeling immense relief. “There are plenty of men who prefer their own kind.”

“That’s not what I…er…never mind.”

“But anyway”, the half-elf said, still looking the wizard in the eyes, “I must say that I’m happy you’re not. In love with him, I mean.”

“You…you are?”

“Yes. I really am.”

_Very nice, kitten_ , Softpaws said, sounding very pleased. The cat was currently perched on Rini’s shoulder, purring into her ear. _An important first step._

_Step?_

_Yes, kitten. There was a small sigh along the mental link. Do try to make an effort here…_

“Oh”, Edwin said, sounding equal parts pleased and confused. “Well, then I’m happy too. If you’re happy, I mean. That is…er…we do need to keep our leader satisfied and mentally stable if we are to survive this place. That’s what I meant to say. It is only logical to want a stable leader, I’m sure. Yes, perfectly logical and sensible. The normal, sensible thing to do, what anybody would want to do. Yes indeed. Um…what was I saying?”

“That you wanted to keep me satisfied. Sounds like a good plan to me.”

_Does it ever, kitten_ , Softpaws smirked. _And I bet he would be very adept at it too._

_Softy!_

_What? What did I say? Can I help it if you have a one-track mind?_

Zaerini sighed softly to herself. _I’ve battled assorted monsters, madmen and bounty hunters_ , she thought. _I cheat death on a daily basis. I’ve insulted Elminster himself. And somehow, I can’t get the last word against my own familiar. Somehow that doesn’t seem quite fair._

_Of course not, kitten_ , the cat instantly retorted. _But then again, you ought to know better than to think life is fair. I’m just helping you to get used to it, in a totally unselfish manner. That it also amuses me is a different story…_

_Meanwhile, deep within the Iron Throne tower…_

Sarevok was annoyed. This wasn’t an uncommon emotion in the powerful warrior. As the blood of Bhaal kept increasing its hold on him it had become more and more rare for him to feel simple joy or sadness. Triumph was there occasionally, but most of all there was the anger. Quiet anger, simmering just beneath the surface. Sudden anger, like lightning striking the unwary. And most of all the roaring wrath, the bloodthirst that brought strength and made the blood run quicker through his veins. Yet right now he was merely annoyed, and with good reason. 

For one thing, his diary still hadn’t been found. Winski kept scrying for it, but so far, he had come up with nothing. “I will keep trying”, the wizard had said only the day before. “But I wouldn’t get my hopes up if I were you. The diary still exists, but beyond that I can see nothing except shadows.”

Then there was the ever-increasing need to involve himself in the affairs of the Grand Dukes. Sarevok knew perfectly well that he had to get on the good side of the Grand Dukes if he eventually wanted to become one of them and assume control of the City. That didn’t mean he had to like it. Politics made him impatient, with all the intrigue and maneuvering, the word games, the schemes and shifting alliances. It wasn’t that he lacked the intelligence to comprehend them, but he lacked the patience to truly excel at such games and frequently found himself wishing that he could simply settle the matter of becoming ruler with his sword. 

Unfortunately, that wasn’t a viable option. Tonight he would once again need to attend one of the innumerable parties arranged by the nobility of the Gate, and he would need to be more or less calm…and…and smile at the mincing fools. Fortunately, Sarevok’s smile under such circumstances wasn’t one to encourage smalltalk. He’d leave that to Winski. The mage wasn’t exactly a party person either, but he had more of a flair for diplomacy than Sarevok did. Come to think of it, Winski had once said something about a raging bull being more diplomatic than Sarevok. 

And now this. One of the servants had brought word that there were people wishing to speak to him, merchants or some such. Apparently, none but Sarevok would do and he would no doubt have to suffer through some long and pompous speech. Possibly he would even have to endure a marriage proposal; there were plenty of people interested in making such an alliance now that he was moving upwards in society. Easily impressed fools. How he despised them all. Frowning darkly the warrior stalked through the halls of the Iron Throne building, his favorite armor making him resemble a demon rather than a man. Thinking himself prepared for anything he threw the door to the designated meeting room open – and stopped in his tracks, staring in surprise at the people awaiting him inside. 

The ‘Mystra’ meeting room looked much the same as the others. It held a conference table, lots of uncomfortable chairs, and bright magical lights that hurt your eyes. Also, an enchanted white sheet of glass for making notes on with a few special quills that always seemed to be mislaid. The three current occupants of the room were making good use of those quills. 

A scruffy looking halfling in battered leather armor was drawing a particularly nasty picture that involved a few Harpers, a hungry dragon and a lot of blood. Next to him a wild-eyed wizard was scribbling mystical symbols across the board. Or possibly deranged gibberish, Sarevok was no mage and it all looked the same to him. The man seemed to be so fond of it that he’d decided to decorate his face as well, and it was tattooed in a manner that made him appear as grotesque as a demon. 

Finally, there was a very large and very smelly figure in a long cloak that covered its face. It was eating the red magic quill, the one that Reiltar preferred to use to underline his ‘pithy slogans’, and as Sarevok watched the creature it burped, making a cloud of red smoke emerge from beneath its hood. 

“Oh goody!” the wizard said to his halfling companion. “Look at this, Monty! It’s the sign of the Eel, only I’ve drawn it backwards, turning it into the sign of the Lee.”

“So?” the halfling said, not sounding very impressed. 

“Don’t you see? It’s a sign of good fortune; it will bring us success in our current endeavor. We’ll be KINGS, Monty! Kings and QUEENS!”

“Just as long as you won’t try to make me wear a dress. One of us is enough.”

“It’s not a dress, silly Monty. It’s a robe; you know that. It’s Traditional.”

“So is whipping yourself to drive out evil spirits. Doesn’t mean I want to do it.”

“Urrrgh!” the cloaked figure heartily agreed.

The wizard giggled, a silvery sound of pure madness. “Spirits…” he whispered. “I know about those. They’re everywhere, you know, curiouser and curiouser. Ah, the bouncing bears of the great city of Gum, they drink the fluids of their enemies to gain their eldritch power of bouncing, they might be watching us even now! So terrible and cruel, their beady little eyes, and they’ll bounce on you until you’re quite flat. And then there’s the ghost that keeps following me. Strange little thing claims he just wants to have a friend. But I showed him! Oh yes I did!” The wizard proudly patted a metal canister hanging around his neck. “Got him in here, he’ll make a nice component for a summoning spell I think.” More deranged giggles. 

Sarevok cleared his throat loudly. “And who”, he remarked in a very cold voice, “are you? What do you want?” 

The three strangers turned around. The halfling looked a little apprehensive, the wizard excited. The third one, the one in the cloak, simply burped again. 

“Oh no!” the wizard exclaimed. “Only one of those questions allowed at a time. Rules of the Elder Races you know. And you should, you really should. The Iron Throne is our last, best hope for peace, isn’t it, Captain?”

“Yeeessss….”, Sarevok said as he tried to work his mind around this. “So it is, now that Amn threatens us. But that doesn’t tell me who you are.” 

“I am Xzar”, the wizard proudly proclaimed, gesticulating so wildly with the magic quill he was holding that green ink spattered all over the floor. “This is my trusty steed, Monty.”

“Not steed, you crazy mage”, the halfling growled. “Thief! Not steed! Do I look like a horse to you?”

“Well, no, but you could still be one. The horses in the Underwater Empire of Srlswryya were said to walk on two legs and say ‘I am not a horse’ whenever you tried to ride them. Strange, isn’t it?”

_Not if they weren’t in fact horses_ , Sarevok thought. _Actually I don’t think I want to know what they were._

“And this is Abduh”, Xzar went on, patting the large and cloaked figure on the shoulder. “Not very talkative, but such a good boy. Abduh, take your hood down. You don’t want to insult the nice man.”

“Urrrrgh”, the cloaked figured said and obeyed, displaying a gray and rotting face that probably hadn’t been very attractive even in life. 

_I suppose that explains the smell_ , Sarevok thought. _I swear I will never understand wizards. Winski might be interested though_. “That”, he said in a flat voice, “is a zombie.”

“Yes, and a very clever one too. Abduh, show the nice man how clever you are. Go on, beg for Daddy Xzar!” 

The zombie grinned, displaying a serious lack of tongue and a collection of black and broken teeth. “Urrrrgh!” he said, and then crouched down on the floor, hands pulled up in front of him, panting heavily in the manner of a dog begging for a sweet. 

“I am supposed to be impressed by that thing?” Sarevok said, directing the full force of his burning golden eyes at the wizard. Xzar seemed entirely unaffected. 

“Yes”, the mage readily responded, over the halfling’s loud protestations. “I sewed a heavy enchantment into his skin yesterday. You’re supposed to feel devotion and fierce admiration for his strength and battle prowess, strong enough to make you want to sacrifice your life for him.”

Sarevok stared at the zombie. The zombie stared back. Long moments passed. Sarevok stared at the zombie. The zombie stared at Sarevok. By now the silence in the room was thick enough that you could have cut it with a knife.

“Er…”, the halfling said nervously. “It’s not working, is it?”

“No”, Sarevok said, very slowly and deliberately drawing the Sword of Chaos. “It’s not.” He started advancing on the strange trio. _For trying to make me fall in love with a zombie I will kill them slowly. Perhaps impaling them on my armor would be painful and humiliating enough. This is ten times as bad as merchants with a regular marriage proposal. Aaarrrgh! Now I keep imagining that zombie in a wedding dress!_

“Thought not. Hey, wizard! Scram!” 

“Urrrgh, urrrgh, URRRRGH!”

Xzar gulped and started casting a spell, a shimmering white portal springing into existence behind him. “Oh dear”, he muttered to himself. “Should have asked Pretty Redhead for more details when she told us where to go. Pretty Redhead is very tricky and sneaky after all, yes she is. Come on Monty. Abduh, heel!” All three strangers disappeared into the portal, inches away from getting skewered. 

“DAMN!” Sarevok screamed as he saw his prey eluding him, striking the conference table with a mailed fist so that it cracked down the middle. It was several minutes before he could think clearly enough to take in the wizard’s final words. _Pretty Redhead? What pretty red…_

As the realization hit Sarevok his scream of rage could be heard throughout the Iron Throne, from the highest floor to the deepest cellars, a murderous cry for blood. _My little sister again! Not only does she go around wrecking my mines, now she sends her little friends over to annoy me. I’ll kill her for this_. Then it came to him that he had intended to do that anyway. _Well, I’ll just have to kill her more painfully then. A lot more painfully. That will teach her to stop bothering me. She did this on purpose; I know it. How is it possible for one girl to be that annoying? She must practice daily to be able to get under my skin like this._

IS YOUR LITTLE SISTER TEASING YOU, SON? His Father’s voice sounded rather amused.

_Yes! Make her stop!_

YOU SHOULD DO THAT YOURSELF. YOU ARE THE NEXT LORD OF MURDER, AFTER ALL. AND YOU CERTAINLY HAVE THE STRENGTH TO DEAL WITH HER. UNLESS YOU’RE STARTING TO LOSE YOUR NERVE…

_No! Of course not! I can deal with her, you’ll see._

EXCELLENT. AND NOW, LET US SPEAK OF THE GLORIES AWAITING YOU AFTER YOUR ASCENSION…

Lost as he was in pleasant thoughts; it was several hours before Sarevok realized that he’d entirely forgotten about finding out who the three strangers were. He told himself that it hardly was important. Whoever they were they didn’t exactly seem the sort to shake the Realms and become living legends. Annoying nobodies, but still nobodies. Losing himself in Tamoko’s welcoming embrace that night, Sarevok soon forgot all about the mad wizard, the little thief and their tame zombie. 

-*-

Past the teleporting chamber was a small and dark room, with niches carved into the walls here and there. Imoen carefully made her way around the room, searching for traps. There were more than a few of them. They were hidden on the floor, in the walls, in the niches where some healing potions had been stashed. _Wow_ , the young thief thought. _It must have taken ages to set all these traps. Some of them are really clever too. That one blade trap almost took my fingers off._ Whistling softly to herself she moved on to the next trap, a poison arrow one. 

“Careful!” Jaheira said behind her back. “Keep your mind on what you are doing.” 

“I am”, Imoen said. “Some music helps me work better.”

“I do not think you are being serious enough about the fact that you are playing around with something that could easily kill you.”

“Why should I be? It would only make me gloomy, and it wouldn’t help me work better.” Imoen smiled. “Besides, playing with traps is fun.”

“Fun?!”

“Yep. Once I’ve spotted the way the trap works, I can sort of let my fingers do the job on their own. It’s very relaxing, really.” Imoen looked over her shoulder, still fiddling with the trap. Her friends were watching her, all of them looking quite incredulous. “It’s a thief thing”, she explained. “You wouldn’t understand.” She waved her hand along the wall, and then laughed as the poison dart shot harmlessly into the air, two inches away from her face just as she had estimated it, embedding itself in the roof. “See? Wasn’t that a neat trick? No need to worry, I can handle this.” 

For some reason, this declaration didn’t seem to boost her friends’ confidence at all. 

“Suicidal”, Edwin muttered. “Completely suicidal. (I think it must have something to do with wearing leather. Seems that destroys every ounce of self-preservation.)”

“Huh”, Imoen said with a small pout. “You people have no appreciation for stylish technique. There are such a lot of traps here; it would be totally boring to just keep regularly disarming them. A little flourish never harmed anybody. Besides, a really good rogue should always try to do things stylishly.” 

“Fine”, Zaerini said. “Just please try to make sure it doesn’t involve you dying stylishly.” 

A few minutes later Imoen came across some more writing on one of the walls. “Hey, Yeslick!” she called out. “What does this say?”

The dwarf walked over and peered carefully at the runes. “Know no refuge”, he said. 

“Really? I wonder what that means.”

“S-something b-b-bad no doubt”, Khalid proclaimed, nervously glancing at the shadows in the corners. 

Imoen ran her fingers along the runes, pleased to see a secret door open in the wall beneath them. “Oh, good!” she said. “I bet there’s treasure inside.” She eagerly crept inside, and then started with surprise as the heavy stone slab slammed shut behind her, trapping her alone in the darkness. 

_Booger-brain_ , Imoen thought. _I’m a booger-brain. I should have known something like this would happen_. It was utterly dark, and she couldn’t see a thing. _It would really be helpful to have night-vision like Rini does. Except I probably couldn’t see anything in here anyway, since the only hot thing in here is me. Least I hope so. But if there were any monsters, they would have eaten me already, so I guess I’ll be fine. If I can get out, that is._

She carefully felt her way along the wall, noticing that she couldn’t hear a single sound from outside. Most probably her friends were still there, but they might as well have been on the other side of the world. Imoen’s lips trembled a little as she realized that there was a very real possibility that they wouldn’t be able to get the door open and that she’d starve to death in here. _This wouldn’t be as bad if only I wasn’t alone in here. Well, not that I want anybody else to be in trouble, exactly, but at least I’d have some company. Hm, wouldn’t it be nice if Adahn were in here with me right now? Just the two of us…alone…defying death, surviving against incredible odds and managing to get in a little snuggling time in-between the near brushes with death?_

Yes, that was a very nice thought indeed. Imoen felt a delicious shiver run down her back as she developed her fantasy a little further, her predicament entirely forgotten. _Yep, that’s just perfect. Exactly like in ‘Thief Of Hearts’ by Araminda Astoria. Where the jaded but basically decent robber Symon Sinister, who has a really romantic and tragically dark past, meets True Love in the form of the young and innocent Feliria Farundel. Well, relatively innocent, for a thief. Oh, I just bet Adahn has some romantic dark secrets too. I’ll have to ask him. Of course, first I have to get out of here._

After a few more minutes of examining the walls Imoen’s questing fingers encountered what appeared to be large statue. _A statue of a dwarf_ , she thought. There was certainly a beard there. And there was something else as well, something that the dwarf was holding in his outstretched hand. A stone, a smooth and round stone. _Yes! I bet that’s my key out of here! You can’t keep a clever rogue down…_

Imoen hastily snatched the stone. Then she drew in breath deeply in fear as she heard the hiss of poison gas welling out of vents somewhere just below the ceiling. This proved to be a bad mistake, as it made her cough and retch, and the gas burned in her lungs, making her feel like she was about to choke. _Oops…_ she thought. 

There had to be a way out. Imoen tried to think, her thoughts spinning feverishly in her head as the gas made it more and more difficult to think. _I can do this. I know I can_. And then she saw something. Just a tiny sliver of light in the solid darkness, but it was there. A keyhole. Her fingers were trembling as she fumbled to get her lockpicks out, praying she wouldn’t drop them. And then she was at the lock, working furiously even as she tried to hold her breath. _This is child’s play for a good rogue. I’m sure I can make it. Just a little more…_

Finally, just when she knew she couldn’t hold her breath a second longer, the lock snicked open and the door slid aside, letting Imoen stumble outside, coughing and retching violently as her frantic friends pounced on her with healing spells and potions.

“Have you quite satisfied your suicidal urges yet?” Jaheira said in an acid tone of voice once Imoen had been purified of poison and subjected to a large number of healing spells. 

“Um…” the pink-haired thief said. “It wasn’t like that, you know. Not at all.”

“No? Then what was it like?”

“Well…see…I meant to do that. Yep. That’s it. I knew exactly what I was doing. It was all part of my plan.” 

“Really”, Jaheria said, and her eyebrows rose. “Now why am I not feeling convinced?”

“But…” Imoen tried, feeling rather embarrassed. “I really did…” And then she suddenly remembered the stone she’d snatched from inside the trapped room and held it triumphantly aloft. She’d spotted the markings on it and had a good idea what it was. “See? Bet you didn’t expect this. It’s a wardstone, see? Like the one that opened this level. I’d say that finding the one thing that’ll help get us all out of here was worth a little risk, don’t ya think?”

Jaheira still looked rather suspicious, and Edwin’s sardonic smile hinted that he wasn’t buying her excuse and was finding it particularly amusing. Zaerini gave them both an annoyed look and then hugged her friend briefly. 

“It was very clever of you to find that thing, Immy”, the bard said. “But please, try to not get lost again. I was really worried about you, you know.” 

“I promise”, Imoen said, hugging back. “For one thing, you’d never manage without me.” 

Once the adventurers were on their way again Imoen tugged at her best friend’s sleeve. “Rini?” she said. “Thanks. I needed that. And you know…I was rather scared in there.”

The half-elf’s golden eyes glittered in the darkness as she smiled in return. “I guessed that”, she said. “But you didn’t want to admit it in front of Jaheira, right?”

“Um…something like that.” 

“That’s what I thought.” The bard nodded briefly, and her red locks bobbed up and down in affirmation. “Just remember, Immy – you don’t have to pretend for my sake. And don’t you ever get yourself killed because you’re trying to be impressive or I’ll never forgive you.”

“I promise. Friends?”

“Of course. Best friends, always.”

The corridor wound on, past a long series of Fireball traps that fortunately fried the horde of Ghasts that came charging towards the adventurers from the other end. Once the smoke settled the undead lay burnt and smoking on the ground, and the traps were quite harmless.

“Feel no warmth”, Yeslick said as he read another rune inscription. “How very strange.”

“I’d say Durlag had a pretty twisted sense of humor”, Edwin remarked. “What’s next, I wonder? An Ice Storm trap, with an inscription urging us to ‘Keep your Cool’?”

As it turned out, the next thing awaiting was an empty room with a staircase. “Finally!” Zaerini exclaimed, pushing her red hair out of her eyes with a weary gesture. “Whatever is down there, it can’t be worse than all those annoying doppelgangers.”

“Want to bet?” Edwin murmured. 

Imoen followed her friends towards the staircase, clutching the wardstone nervously in one hand. She couldn’t quite shake the feeling that there was something wrong. Something odd about that staircase. And then she saw it. The staircase was a fake one, merely a skillfully painted and crafted illusion of rock. “Wait!” she yelled. “Trap!” 

It was too late. Yeslick and Jaheira had already set foot on the ‘stair’, and as they did something clicked in the walls around them. Immediately the door they had entered through slammed shut, as did the one in the opposite wall. Then the walls themselves began to move, pushing in towards the center of the room slowly but inexorably. There could be no doubt that the purpose of this trap was to squash any unfortunate victims that wandered into it to a juicy pulp. The speed of the walls was gradually increasing, and as they came closer Imoen could see brown spots here and there on the walls. She had a feeling she knew what those spots were. Moreover, one of the walls also bore the legend: ‘Can’t take the Pressure?’

“I hate Durlag Trollkiller”, Zaerini said in a curiously emotionless voice. “I really, really, really hate him.”


	44. Checkmate

**In The Cards 44 – Checkmate**

_I’m gonna let you in on a secret about Rules. All rogues know this, at least the skilled ones. If the Rules are stupid or biased against you, and winning is really important – then don’t bother with them. If your life is on the line, playing according to the Rules isn’t always an option. It’s better to be known as a living cheater than as a really fair-minded corpse._

_Excerpt from ‘Ruminations Of A Master Bard’_

“Somebody d-do something!” Khalid yelled as he vainly tried to hold the encroaching walls back by pressing his body against them. It didn’t help much, despite the fact that Jaheira and Yeslick were doing their best to help him out. “We’re all going to d-die!” 

“Oh really?” Edwin said, with a hint of fear underlying his usual sarcasm. “And here I thought we’d simply stumbled across a wonderful new slimming method. (Not that I need that of course, already being perfectly shaped in mind and body.)”

Zaerini stared in growing desperation at the moving walls. Stopping them by force was going to be useless, she could tell that. She couldn’t see any mechanism to manipulate either, and if there was a magical means of surviving being squashed flat she certainly didn’t know of it. Was there something that could be used to jam the walls? She couldn’t think of anything. And then she noticed Imoen crouching on the floor, examining it carefully. 

“Look!” the thief cried out. “It’s a trapdoor, I think I’ve found the real exit! Come on, you guys, help me out here!” The adventurers hurried to assist her, slowly managing to push a large slab of stone aside to reveal a dark chute beneath. 

“Everybody, get down there right now”, Zaerini told her friends, scooping up her familiar into her arms. “I’ll go last.” 

“But we don’t know where it ends up”, Yeslick protested, eyeing the black hole with apprehension. 

“Does it matter? If we stick around here, we’re dead anyway. Now move!” The bard tried not to envision herself as flat as one of the flowers Gorion sometimes used to press between his book pages as her friends jumped into the chute, one by one. The walls were close enough by now that if she stretched out her arms, she could touch them in every direction, and they centered upon the trapdoor, driving her towards it. _Wouldn’t surprise me if that chute ends up in a lava river or a scorpion pit. That would be like Durlag, I think. The bastard._

_Get on with it, kitten_ , Softpaws told her. _You’re the only one left, and I really prefer my original shape to being a flat cat._

_Right. Here we go then._

The half-elf took a deep breath and jumped into the chute, keeping her eyes firmly closed. Then she was sliding rapidly down the dark hole, clutching her cat desperately in her arms to keep the animal from harm. She only wished somebody would have been able to keep her from harm, she kept bouncing against the walls in a very alarming manner. _OuchOuchOuchOuchOUCH…_

And then she popped out of a hole in the wall like a pea from a peashooter, landing heavily on something soft that groaned. “Ouch…” Zaerini said.

“Could you please”, Edwin remarked, “try to remove yourself from my back? I thought the entire point of this exercise was to avoid getting crushed. (Under other circumstances I wouldn’t have minded such a position at all, but the force of impact is something else entirely…)” Then he suddenly sounded panicky, “I can’t move my legs! Oh no! I can’t move my legs!”

“That”, Yeslick said, “is because that’s my leg you’re trying to move. Keep yer hands to yerself, why don’t you, lad?”

“Oh. Right.” 

“And speaking of hands”, Jaheria commented from somewhere deep inside the heap of bodies, “if the person who has his hands on my posterior does not remove them right now he will soon find himself short of a few fingers.” 

“Ah”, Khalid said, sounding rather sheepish. “S-sorry my d-dear. It was such a g-g-golden opportunity…” 

Once the adventurers had sorted themselves out and managed to divide their appendages between them, they found themselves in a short tunnel. From somewhere up ahead a *whooshing * sound could be heard, a sound that turned out to come from a device shooting giant fireballs into the circular chamber that surrounded it at regular intervals. Fortunately, the regularity of the fireballs made it possible to traverse the dangerous room anyway, by running really quickly across it. On the other side yet another tunnel led into an enormous cavern. And inside that cavern was something Zaerini had never expected to see, at least not deep beneath the earth. 

“Dragon”, Edwin said, his voice filled with awe. His face was eager with an almost childlike excitement that Rini suddenly found herself thinking of as ‘rather adorable’. “Just look at it, it’s a Great Wyrm, I know it!”

And so it was, or rather it had been. The dragon was long dead, but its enormous skeleton almost entirely filled the huge cave. The ribs were like a forest of enormous tree-trunks, the skull as big as a house, and the teeth…. Rini was very glad that the creature wasn’t alive. She really had no wish to fight something whose smallest tooth was much larger than she was. 

“I always did want to see a dragon”, Edwin said. “Imagine what it must have looked like when it was alive…”

“I’m t-t-trying not to”, Khalid said. “Could you p-please stop reminding me?”

While the dragon was long dead, the two large wyverns that turned out to nest inside its bones were very much alive, and not at all pleased to have company. Tired as the adventurers already were, the fight was a long and bloody one. As the two beasts finally lay dead everybody was exhausted, and both Jaheira and Yeslick were completely out of healing spells. “That does it”, the druid said. “We should rest now; else we risk falling asleep on our feet.” 

Zaerini nodded. “I agree”, she said. “We will make camp here and try to get some sleep.” She looked up at the dragon skeleton. “At least that thing should help us get some cover.” Then she grinned. “You know, I never expected to fall asleep beside a dragon. Then again, we’ve slept in some pretty odd places on this journey, haven’t we? So, who wants to take the first watch?”

“I will”, Edwin said. “I need to study my spells anyway.” He cleared his throat and suddenly looked very interested in the state of his own boots. “Perhaps…that is…you ought to do the same, study your spells that is, if you value your life and don’t expect me to come charging in like some stupid knight in shining armor and pull you out of trouble. You are fairly good in the Art, but you can’t expect to do without practice.” 

_Was that a compliment I just heard?_ “Edwin, was there something you wanted to say?” the bard asked. 

“Ah…yes. Er…since you need to study your spells as well, I was wondering…that is…if you…”

“If I what?”

“If…if…ifyouwantedtokeepmecompanyforawhile.” The last was said in a very rapid and very quiet voice, and the Red Wizard still refused to meet her eyes. 

“Of course I will”, Rini said, steadfastly ignoring Imoen’s giggle behind her back. “I’d love to.” 

_Oh my_ , Softpaws said and went on cleaning her fur. _A study date. How romantic. Do try to take advantage of the opportunity, kitten. Studying isn’t everything you know._

_Softy, even if…even if I wanted to do something like that – which I don’t – aren’t you forgetting that we aren’t exactly alone here?_

_So?_ The cat sounded honestly surprised. 

_So people don’t do that sort of things with other people watching, unlike cats. And even if we did, the skeleton of a dead dragon isn’t exactly a prime romantic spot._

_Then people are more stupid than I thought, and ridiculously picky. I wonder that you manage to breed at all with all these objections you’re making._

Sometime later Zaerini was sitting on top of one of the dragon’s claws, trying to concentrate on her spellbook. It turned out that this was more difficult than she had expected, since she kept concentrating on Edwin instead. She’d found herself doing that more and more often as of late, thinking of him at the strangest of times. The way he was able to make her laugh, the way his intellect was a match for her own, the way his sense of humor matched her own so very closely. His face, which she was starting to be almost as familiar with as her own. _And his voice. Let’s not forget his voice. Mmmmm…_

_Well, finally!_ Softpaws said. The black cat was lying on her Mistress’ lap, enjoying a thorough petting. _I thought you’d never admit it, kitten._

_Admit what?_

_Hssst! Stop it! That you fancy him of course!_

The words were lightning bolts flashing across her mind, searing and illuminating. Was it true? Could it really be? She’d never really been in love; she didn’t know what it was supposed to feel like. Somehow, she hadn’t imagined it would be like having an itch you couldn’t quite reach, one that needed to be satisfied by somebody else. Or that it would mean feeling as if that certain somebody had managed to steal half of her soul and leave a burning ache behind. Being in love was supposed to feel pleasant. Wasn’t it? _I…I suppose I might_ , she reluctantly admitted. _I guess I do. I’ve liked him for a long time, but I think…I think it may be more than that now._

_Of course it is! As if I wouldn’t be able to spot the fact that you’re in heat. Now you just go over there and tell him!_

_What? No! I can’t do that!_

_Why not?!_

_Because I don’t know how he feels. Suppose I make a complete fool of myself? Suppose he just laughs at me and then tells everybody about it?_

The half-elf felt the cat’s head push encouragingly into her hand. _Silly kitten. He won’t do that. He wants you just as much as you want him._

_He does?_ She could feel the blood rushing into her cheeks, but deep inside her heart was singing. _How do you know?_

_I can smell it. Remember how I told you about that? Trust me, he wants you._

Zaerini thought about this for a moment. Gradually the elation began to leave her, giving way to fear and doubt. _It’s…it’s not enough though._

_What do you mean?_

_Maybe you’re right. Maybe he wants me, as you say. But…it’s not enough. Not if he doesn’t love me, and I’m sure he doesn’t. Remember what he said when we saw Islanne’s ghost? How love was a mistake, more or less? How it had only brought her pain? And if he doesn’t want to love, then I can’t allow myself to love him either. At least not to let him know. It…it would only get me hurt in the end._

_Kitten, you could be wrong about this, you know. And even if you’re not, you may be able to make him change his mind._

_Maybe. Maybe not. But there’s Sarevok too. We’re in constant danger, especially me. I could die any day. Things are just too risky right now._

_You can’t put it off forever._

_I know. I’ll…I’ll try to find out how he feels. Discreetly. And then…once it’s all over with Sarevok, once we’re both safe…I’ll tell him how I feel then. I promise._

_Very well, kitten. And I will hold you to it. You’re not likely to find a mate more suited to you, and I’m not going to let you mess this up. Now, at least go over there and talk to him._

Suddenly feeling extremely awkward, Rini moved closer to where Edwin was sitting and plopped herself down next to him, leaning against a dragon-rib. “Um…everything going well?” she asked, mentally wanting to hit herself for not thinking of something cleverer to say. 

Edwin didn’t seem to mind though. “Oh yes”, he said, favoring her with a rare smile. “Remember that one strange scroll I found upstairs? It seems to be some kind of extremely powerful summoning scroll, but I think I’m getting the hang of it now.”

“Oh. Good. That’s good.” _Think of something to say. Something. Anything_. “Er…Eddie? I was just wondering…I’d heard that Thayvian wizards usually tattoo themselves a lot. So…. how come you haven’t got any tattoos? Not that I’m complaining or anything, I mean I wouldn’t want you to look like Xzar or anything, you look just fine the way you do.” _Great. Now I’m babbling_. 

“But I do have some tattoos”, Edwin said, his dark eyes suddenly intensely eager. “I got them when I was fifteen. (And Mother will probably never let me hear the end of it, just because I didn’t ask permission first.) It’s only that they’re normally hidden from sight, you see.”

_Oooooh, dear. Suddenly I think that I ought to have picked another topic for conversation_

“Here”, Edwin said. “I’ll show you.” 

“No, no, no. That won’t be necessary at all…” Edwin was pulling the hood of his robe back by now and she had no idea how she was going to stop him from progressing further. Or even if she wanted to stop him, though she tried not to think too hard about that. 

“It’s no problem”, the Red Wizard said magnanimously. “They’re quite attractive, it’s such a shame I need to keep them covered up in public.”

_Ulp_. “Uh…speaking of cover, in mixed company it’s usually considered better and more appropriate to…” And then the half-elf fell silent as Edwin parted his hair with his fingers. Quite nice hair it was too, thick and glossy. 

“There we are”, the wizard said, pointing at his head. “The dragon is mostly hidden from sight I’m afraid, but you can probably spot the demilich, the Red Wizard sign and the succubus.” He paused and looked a little embarrassed. “On second thought, forget I mentioned the succubus. (I was fifteen, I thought it was the next best thing to a real one.)”

Zaerini felt like she had been hit over the head with a club. “But…but…I thought you meant…are you saying that the tattoos are hidden under your hair?!”

Edwin nodded. “Yes”, he explained. “It was pointed out to me that on secret missions it’s better not to stand out quite so much. I could change the color of my robes if I really had to, but growing new hair is more difficult if your head is shaved. (And besides, though I look wonderful in any incarnation I do look better with hair than without. I don’t see why I should have to be a slave to Thayvian fashion.)” He paused. “Why? What did you think I meant?”

“Oh, nothing”, Rini said in a weak voice, trying to purify her thoughts in order not to blush. “Nothing at all…”

Past the Dragon Chamber the corridor led past four closed doors and into a room where two giant stone heads watched the adventurers with what Zaerini thought was mute disapproval. The reaction of the two uncommonly large ghouls that shambled towards her was even more hostile, and they turned out to be quite a bit more dangerous than the normal breed. _They sort of remind me of Abduh, Rini thought. Oh gods. I almost miss him. Shows how much I want to get out of this place, I guess._

“There are more inscriptions here”, Yeslick said as he walked up to the large stone heads. “More dwarven runes. Let me see. The first one says: ‘Down four tunnels lie four foes. Kill all four and the game begins.’” 

“We did pass four doors”, Jaheira said, frowning. “I suppose these ‘foes’ can be found there. I do not like the sound of that ‘game’ though.” 

“Me neither”, Rini said, “but we can’t really do anything except try to be prepared for the worst. What do the others say, Yeslick?”

“Well”, the dwarf answered, “the second reads: ‘Ooze only parts before blows and spells but evaporates in the cleansing fire.’” 

“Hm”, Edwin said, rubbing the bridge of his nose thoughtfully. “That reminds me of something, but I can’t recall what at the moment. Still, between us we have several spells that use fire, so we should manage.” 

“And arrows!” Imoen eagerly piped up. “I’ve got lots of fire arrows as well.”

“The third inscription”, Yeslick went on, “says: ‘Fire, ice, slime and wind. All must perish to continue. She who fires flame must be killed before her bow is drawn.’”

Zaerini thought about this for a moment. “So, it seems Durlag is up to his usual tricks”, she said, her golden eyes flashing with annoyance. “Looks like we must fight these ‘four foes’ made up of ‘fire, ice, slime and wind’ in order to continue. The ‘slime’ monster we need to use fire against. I wonder who ‘she who fires flame’ is. Doesn’t sound like anybody I want to meet.”

“There is one more”, Yeslick said, sounding puzzled. “Strange…this I do nay understand at all… It says: ‘Queening can change a match – much for the worse if you’re the other player.’ What would that mean, I wonder?”

“Oh, honestly!” Edwin said with a superior look on his face. “Don’t you know anything? It’s obviously a reference to chess, the monarch of all games. If you can maneuver one of your pawns to the eighth square, then it becomes a queen, the most powerful piece of the game. (As I certainly know. Ah, it’s been so long since I played a good game. I’ll never manage to win if I don’t get to practice regularly).” 

“But there’s no chessboard here”, a confused Imoen said. “What does chess have to do with any of the rest of it?” Nobody was able to make a good suggestion, and eventually it was decided that they would simply have to brave the four challenges regardless. 

The first one proved easy enough. In a cold and frosty cave lay the old bones of what seemed to have been a large pack of wolves, as well as a polar bear. They had obviously been dead for a very long time. “Poor beasts”, Jaheira said, her face tight with anger. “They were shut up in here with no food or water. Durlag’s insanity was more far-reaching than I would have thought.”

“And even if he had fed them”, Rini added, “it’s not as if they could have survived for hundreds of years. Looks like there’s not much of a challenge here anymore. Let’s try the next one.” 

The second cave seemed to be empty at first. There was just a platform of bare rock, with a deep chasm surrounding it on all sounds, and the near deafening sound of rushing wind. However, it soon became all too obvious that the emptiness was an illusion. 

“Look”, Imoen suddenly said. “Can you see that? It’s like the air is…rippling…”

Zaerini tried to see what her friend meant. Yes…there was something there. Like the shimmer in the air one might see on a very hot summer day, almost invisible. And then the air was pushed out of her lungs with a * whoosh * as something hit her in the stomach, and invisible fists of air pummeled her from all sides. Then there was a loud screeching noise, and the dazed bard looked up to see a strange creature hovering in the air above her. It looked a lot like a small wyvern, but it was strangely insubstantial, as if it were made from the air itself. It also had very sharp teeth. 

The fight proved a difficult one, and in the end only strength and speed enhancing spells saw them through. The invisible creatures obviously couldn’t be targeted by spells and hitting them with weapons proved almost equally difficult. The wyvern-like beast had a nasty bite that turned out to be poisonous, and thick skin that was almost impossible to pierce. Still, in the end they all fell, with Rini and her friends still mostly unharmed. _And to think that Immy and I almost got ourselves killed by an ogre before we reached the Friendly Arm_ , the bard thought. _Guess we’ve come a long way since then…_

The third cave was the nastiest so far. Slimy green goo dripped down the walls and lay in deep puddles on the floor. “Oh yuck!” Imoen exclaimed. “That stuff had better not mess up my new boots.”

“It can do worse than that if you let it”, Edwin said. “Observe and learn.” He touched the end of his staff to one of the green puddles, and the wood hissed where it touched the slime. “You would be lucky if you had any feet left.” 

“There is a p-path between the puddles”, Khalid said. “It l-looks very narrow but I t-think we should be able to follow it.” Navigating between the dangerous puddles of slime was quite nerve-wracking Rini thought. She kept expecting to make a mistake and feel her toes starting to dissolve. Possibly even her legs. Softpaws had climbed into her backpack and refused to set a single paw on the ground. 

_I’m not risking my paws_ , the cat informed her. _You carry me._

_I suppose I can’t blame you. I just wish there was somebody who’d carry me._

Eventually the path widened, and the footing became safer. The adventurers felt a short moment’s relief. The shortness was mostly caused by the fact that they now found themselves face to slime with a very large puddle of living ooze that came sliding towards them across the ground, spitting generous dollops of searing slime at them. One of them hit Jaheira in the throat, and the druid was hardly able to bite back a scream of pain. 

“NOOOO!” Khalid screamed, charging at the slime with his sword drawn. “Don’t touch her! Don’t you dare t-touch her!” For a moment it seemed like the ooze was going to succumb easily to his wild flurry of blows. But then, to her horror, Zaerini saw it bubble and twitch, stretch and grow, and then split itself in two, each one identical to the first.”

“Of course!” Edwin exclaimed. “Now I remember! It’s a Fission Slime, it will divide when it’s close to death.”

_Fire_ , Rini thought, remembering the verse outside. _That’s it_. “Khalid!” she screamed. “Pull back! Only fire will kill it!” She started launching fire arrows at one of the slimes, Imoen following her example as Edwin started an incantation. Khalid was just able to get out of the way before a large fireball landed on the two slimes, wounding them severely. A few more fire arrows finished them off for good. 

“Have I mentioned recently”, Rini said as the now healed Jaheira started tending to a nasty burn on her leg, “how much I loathe Durlag? It’s a pity he’s already dead, I’m very tempted to kill him myself. I hope he really is buried down here; I have this wild urge to dance on his grave.” 

“Only one challenge left now”, the druid said. “Let us hope the last one will prove less dangerous than this.” 

In the fourth and final cave rivers of molten lave surrounded the path that one must walk in order to enter it, and the heat made it difficult to even breathe properly. As she entered, Zaerini turned towards her best friend and was startled when she couldn’t see Imoen anywhere. 

“Don’t worry!” the thief’s cheerful voice said right next to her ear. “I’m here! Thought a little potion of invisibility could give me an extra edge, there aren’t enough shadows here.”

“Oh. Well, that’s a good idea. Apart from the scaring me half to death bit.”

“Aw, don’t be like that! I thought it was fun. You should have seen the look on your face, you nearly jumped out of your skin…”

Inside the cave were what at first glance appeared to be human beings. However, Rini was quite sure that she’d never seen any humans with glowing skin like these had, and especially not radiating intense heat that made it painful to even go close to them. As they noticed the adventurers they turned as one, their eyes flickering like fire. Most of them were male and armed with swords, but there was one woman, and she carried a bow that glowed with a white fire so bright that it hurt to look at it. 

_She who fires flame must be killed before her bow is drawn_ , Zaerini thought. _I really don’t want to know what happens if she manages to get a shot off. Probably we all wind up as a tiny heap of mixed ashes._

The woman was over on the other side of the room, and it was obvious that her guards didn’t intend to let anybody get close enough to hurt her. She smiled lazily, raising her bow, as the warriors attempted to smash their way through the enemy ranks, fighting against heat as well as steel. 

And then the fiery woman stumbled forwards; a very surprised and pained look on her face as burning blood welled out of a wound in her back. Imoen appeared behind her, looking very pleased with herself despite the heat that assaulted her. “See?” she cried out. “Told you it would come in handy. Wasn’t that a really nifty move? First time I manage to pull it off!” 

Zaerini didn’t have the time to answer. She could feel a twisting and tugging sensation at the center of her abdomen, and heard an unearthly voice booming throughout the chamber. 

_You have come far, but more trials still wait. The final of the four has fallen, and now the game will begin in earnest._

Then the world started spinning around her, shifting and changing, and once the disorientation eased up a bit, she found herself in a very strange place indeed, and a totally unexpected one. 

“Well, what do you know”, Edwin said as he looked about himself. “It seems that Durlag is a more hospitable host than we had thought. Deranged, to be sure, but eager to provide some classy entertainment.” 

The chessboard was the largest one Zaerini had ever seen in her life, made to fit an enormous giant. She and her friends were standing at one end of it, each of them in a square of his or her own, taking the places of chess pieces. In front of them was a row of white pawns, every single one in the shape of an armored warrior wielding a large sword. The chessboard stretched out into the darkness in front of them, and she could only vaguely glimpse the forbidding shapes of the black pieces on the other side. _So we get to play on the side of ‘good’_ , Rini thought. _How sweet._

And then there was a deep chuckling laughter that filled the air all around them, and a voice spoke out of empty air, the same voice that they had heard before. _Welcome to the game of Chess. You have just defeated the last of the four elemental guardians and so this is your next stop. I hope your stay within my tower has been pleasant, but if you have been bored, I have included this game to spice things up somewhat._

“Oh, how nice of you to be so helpful”, Zaerini said. “Yes, we were so dreadfully bored with all the deadly monsters and lethal traps, I can hardly stay awake.”

The voice ignored her sarcastic comment and went on speaking. _There are some rules that must be adhered to while playing the game. The first one is to stay on your respective squares. Your King cannot move from his square, your queen may move into any square._

“Now wait a minute!” Edwin protested. “That’s not right. The King is too supposed to be able to move, if only one step at a time. (Doesn’t he even know the basic rules? He probably calls the knights ‘horsies’ and the rooks ‘funny little houses’.)”

_The black bishop must stay to the black squares, while the white bishop keeps to the white square. The horsies can travel anywhere, but always take the risk of some pain._

“See?!” Edwin said. “Didn’t I tell you so? (Barbarian. We’re playing against an uncultured barbarian here.)”

_IF you move into a square that is restricted to you, lightning will be sent to punish your transgression._

“Yes”, Rini spat, “because perish the thought that we’d get bored.” 

The voice of Durlag laughed again. _Remember, when one king falls the game is done_. Then it fell silent. 

“So”, Zaerini said. “Judging from which square each of us is standing in, it seems that I’m the King.” She smirked. “And you Eddie, would appear to be the Queen. Aren’t you thrilled?”

“It’s a deliberate insult I’m sure”, the Red Wizard said in a huffy voice. “True, the Queen is the most powerful of pieces, which is only fitting for a man of my powers, but to imply that I’m female is an outrage! (Once I dig up Durlag’s bones I’ll use them to make an enchanted chess-set of my own, I think. Then he will get to be two queens.)” 

“Well”, Jaheira said, “you are the only one among us who wears a dress. I am sure that was the reason behind the selection.”

“It’s not a dress! How many times do I have to tell you this? It’s a robe! And you should talk, madam ‘horsie’. Kindly keep your neighing to yourself.” 

“I’m a horsie too”, Imoen said. “I don’t mind; horses are cute. I heard there’s this one plane of existence where there are whole herds of friendly pink little horses that wear dresses and stuff, and that have really long eyelashes and sweet voices. And they talk and sing pretty songs, and some of them can fly, and they have rainbow colored manes and tails. Doesn’t that sound like a cute place?” 

“No”, Edwin said with a brief shudder. “It sounds like a disgusting and horrible nightmare dreamt up by somebody who’d overdosed on sugar. (I believe that old Zulkir Versil The Mad used to dress his horse up in a dress, but that was for entirely different reasons, none of them ‘cute’.)”

“If we can get back to the subject”, Yeslick said, “Perhaps we should discuss how to go about this game of Durlag’s?” 

“Right”, Rini said, pushing her flame-red hair out of her eyes to get a better look at the opposing pieces. “Eddie? You’re the resident chess expert. Any thoughts?” 

It was practically possible to see the wizard’s ego swell into supernatural proportions at this compliment and recognition of his expertise, as if it was a living creature that had just been carefully petted and told what a lovely ego it was. “Naturally”, Edwin said, with an extremely satisfied and smug look on his face that made Rini’s fingers itch with an urge to pinch his nose to startle him. “There are several devious strategies we might employ in this particular situation. They are all known to me of course.”

_It’s really rather sweet when he puffs up like that. His arrogance is so pure it actually makes him a true innocent. Hm, I’d better never say that out loud or he’ll sulk for days…_

“So what are they?” Imoen said. 

”I’m glad you asked. First of all, we could begin with a classical opening gambit, the ‘Scout’s Opening’. Either that or the ‘Silent Serpent’ I think. We follow up with an attack on one of his flanks, possibly with a diversionary attack towards an illusionary target. It’s all a matter of sounding out your opponent you see, seeing where his strengths and weaknesses lie. (Assuming he has any. But I hardly think Durlag can be as challenging an opponent as I’m used to.)”

_Mmm, I could listen to that voice for hours… He could probably list different types of rocks and still sound…well…_

_Stimulating, kitten?_ Softpaws said, sounding entirely too innocent. 

_Well…yes. If you want to put it that way._

_Oh, I do, kitten. I do. Male cats get pretty noisy too when they’re courting a female by the way, I’m sure you’ve noticed._

_But Edwin’s been noisy since I first met him._

_Yes, kitten. Especially when he’s trying to impress you. He’s truly got the hang of yowling, he’s lucky we’re not in a populated area or somebody might throw a bucket of water or an old shoe at him._

_Softy, you have really strange ideas of courting sometimes, do you know that?_

Edwin was still talking chess strategies, seemingly without a need to draw breath. “Castling might be a good strategy”, he said, sounding thoughtful. “At least at first, to keep our King safe as we sound out our opponent’s defenses. But what we should really aim for is a Queening. Now that can truly turn a game around. (And this time I’m almost certain I can pull it off. Yes, I’m sure I can.)” 

“Aren’t you f-forgetting something?” Khalid said. “Those o-other chess pieces…the b-black ones…they’ll attack us for real, w-won’t they?” Everybody looked at the black pieces. All the pawns carried large two-handed swords; the Rooks held massive clubs that could probably crack a skull with a single blow. The Knights sat astride their fierce black warhorses; the Queen was a dark sorceress who watched them with a malevolent smile, a wand held aloft in her hand. The King held a large sword that glowed with a dark purple light. 

“Well, yes. That is sort of the point of the game, isn’t it?” 

_But on the other hand_ , Rini thought, _this isn’t really a game. It’s for real, and if we die, we don’t just get put back in the box to wait for the next match. If we die, we die for good. I don’t like these odds_. And then she thought of something, an age-old truth known to rogues and scoundrels everywhere. _Don’t play the dealer’s game if the odds are heavily stacked against you. Far better to cheat_. “I have another idea”, she said, pursing her lips with thought. “After all, we aren’t really here to win a chess match, are we? We want to smash Black to pieces so we can get out of here and move on. And I think I’ve just thought of a way of doing that…”

Once she explained her plan most of her friends looked both pleased and relieved. Edwin looked rather perturbed, however. “But…” he protested. “But…that is really against the rules. (And it takes away all the fun too.)”

“Edddie, I’m sorry if I’m spoiling your game for you. But Durlag hasn’t exactly played fair with us so far, so I don’t see why we should abide by his rules. It’s winning that matters. Tell you what, once we get out of here and we have the time, I promise I’ll play a game of chess against you, and you can properly humiliate me according to all the rules of the game. How’s that?” 

“Well…all right”, the wizard said, almost pouting. “If you insist. (I’m still sure I could have taken them in the proper manner though.)” 

“Of course you could have. Now, you still have that particular wand, don’t you? And I have this enchanted necklace that I’ve hardly ever used. That ought to do the trick. On the mark of three then. One…two…THREE!” 

Edwin set off his Wand of Fire at the same time that Zaerini triggered the magical necklace from the Nashkel Fair. Two large Fireballs instantly streaked towards the other end of the board, landing in the middle of Black’s ranks and wreaking total havoc. Several Pawns fell, lifeless and burning, as did one of the Rooks. The survivor rapidly charged across the board, as the Queen and the King each started chanting a spell. There was no reason to wait and see what those spells would be. Two more Fireballs, and then two more. The Queen screamed with rage as she went down, her mage-robes burning brightly. The large sword dropped from the black King’s lifeless fingers, landing on the chessboard with a heavy clatter. As it fell, all the still moving Black pieces came to a screeching halt, and they never moved again. 

“Checkmate!” Rini said triumphantly. She gave Edwin a dazzling smile and patted the wizard on the shoulder. “I’m sure your way would have been more elegant and complex, but don’t you agree that my way was pretty much great fun?”

“Hm”, Edwin said with a small and crooked smile. “It was effective, I suppose. And it was rather entertaining as well. (Such I pity I couldn’t do that in a real game without getting into much, much more trouble than it would be worth.)”


	45. Things We Do For Love

**In The Cards 45 – Things We Do For Love**

_Love is very strange. It can make you do the strangest things. Risk your life, your happiness, your sanity, all to protect the ones you love. It can make you give up the things you cherish the most. And sometimes it also seems to make your brains melt from within, leaving just a puddle of pink slush behind as you find yourself turning into a gibbering idiot in the presence of the one you love. It’s a good thing there are also some fortunate consequences…_

_Excerpt from ‘Ruminations Of A Master Bard’_

A cold wind blew through the dark corridor that lay beyond the large chessboard. The adventurers carefully moved forward, not knowing what they’d encounter next, but certain it would be something unpleasant. A few broken swords and rusty shields lay here and there, giving the impression of a violent battle fought long ago. So did the old bones that lay in sad heaps along the corridor, the mangled skeletons of long dead dwarves. Yeslick’s face was sorrowful as he passed them, but he said nothing except a brief and quietly murmured prayer. 

“There is something unnatural here”, Jaheira suddenly said, frowning. “I can sense it. Something cold. Can you not feel it?”

Zaerini tried to concentrate. It was cold, she noticed, colder than it had been a mere few moments ago. Far in the distance she could suddenly hear sounds. The screams and moans of dying people. Steel upon steel, as if a great battle was being fought. And weeping. Above all, there was the sound of weeping. Quiet sobs, low wails, and then heartrending weeping as if somebody had just had their heart torn asunder. It made the half-elf shiver, and not just from the cold either. 

“L-look”, Khalid said. “There is mist f-forming, over there in the c-corner.” And so it was. The drifting tendrils of mist twined together, reared up into a swirling pillar, and then they took form, assuming a recognizable shape. A dwarf it was, an old dwarf in bloody and dented battle-gear, his eyes dark hollows of utter despair. It was the ghost of Durlag Trollkiller. 

“You have come quite far…” the ghost sighed. “Not many live to speak...less live to leave.”

“Oh, is that so?” Edwin asked. “I really wonder why. Now let me think…could it possibly have something to do with all the lethal traps that some unthinking and inhospitable person has littered the place with?”

The ghost moaned quietly again. “You are far from done...I hold surprises yet...seek direction in this place...when you understand the path...when you understand the course...you will be able to go on...you must be worthy to face what comes...there is evil here not built within...you must expel the new invaders...”

“Oh, really?” Rini said, not in a particularly friendly voice. “So after trying to kill us and making us suffer through a large number of awful, awful puns, you want us to help you out, no doubt out of the goodness of our hearts and expecting nothing in return. Tell me, how do we know you’re even the real thing and not another doppelganger? And tell my why we should help you fight these ‘invaders’ and not just exorcise your sorry transparent butt out of here?”

The ghost bowed its head, as if in shame. “You…are understandably suspicious”, it said. “Am I...Durlag? You have cause to wonder...you have seen traps and illusions and phantoms...but I…yes, I was Durlag. I cannot pass...to whatever fate the dark veil holds...this place...this place is my fear...my anger...his torment. I am a…shade. A memory…of ancient sorrow. You wish to conquer this place? You will have to understand what created it...remember well what you have already seen... three paths lead away...all must be taken...”

“Spirit of my distant kinsman”, Yeslick said, “Why do ye still haunt this place? Why can ye find no peace?”

Durlag’s ghost was silent for a moment, and when it spoke again its voice was even more hollow and distant than before. “Betrayal…”, it said. “Built into the very walls…. betrayal, fear and anger…feeding each other endlessly, building me a cage…I cannot rest as long as the truth is mine alone to bear…I need you…I need you to see…to learn for yourselves the cause and consequence of betrayal…then tell me and I shall aid you…I shall open the way.” 

“All right”, Rini said. “We’ll see what we can do. But only since you promise to help us in return, and if one of my friends gets killed in one of your infernal traps, I’m using your ectoplasm to blow my nose.” 

The ghost looked slightly embarrassed. “Be careful…in the room with the rune carpet”, it said. “Come to think…of it…be careful everywhere. It’s been…a long time…I can’t remember where all the traps are…myself.”

“Wonderful. I so like helpful people with valuable information to offer. Pity I hardly ever seem to meet any.” 

The corridor divided into several directions, and one of the paths led across a river of molten lava into a mostly empty room with broken marble pillars lying on the floor where they had fallen centuries earlier. A few giant spiders had taken up residence among them, weaving their nets in complicated patterns between them. Once all the arachnids were dead the adventurers also noticed just how deep and seemingly bottomless the pit in the center of the floor was.

“I wonder what this was?” Jaheira said. “Perhaps an old well…” 

“I wonder how deep it is”, Edwin said, his voice very curious. “Let’s see what happens if I do this…” He promptly dropped a pebble down the pit before anybody had the time to stop him. It bounced along the jagged stonewalls, the echoes loud enough to raise the dead. Then there were a few moments of deep, ominous silence.”

”Are you insane?” Jaheira hissed. “What were you thinking? We have no idea what is down there.”

“Hmpf”, Edwin said, “who do you think you are? My keeper?”

“No, fortunately not”, the druid said as she gave him a furious glare. “If I were, I think I would probably have killed you long ago, rather than suffer the mental agony of trying to keep you from risking your foolish neck.” 

“You obviously understand nothing about the workings of the scientific and curious mind, which is not surprising in somebody with the mental agility of a dead slug…” Edwin suddenly interrupted himself as another sound rose up out of the pit. Laughter. Deep, evil, chuckling laughter. “Ah…”, he said, “Perhaps we could change the topic of conversation now. (To just about anything else rather than this one.)”

“Look at that”, Imoen suddenly said, pointing at something over in a corner. “Is that a statue?” It was a large stone shape, vaguely humanoid in form, and as the adventurers approached it spoke, its voice deep and gravely. 

_Questions have I for you. None but kin of clan may pass. State your knowledge of the history. Answer true and the way is clear; answer false and feel the sorrow. There is no second chance, neither for true nor false. Do you wish to answer now?_

Yeslick nodded. “I am kin”, he said. “Pose your questions, golem.” 

The creature nodded, red light glinting in its eyes as it spoke again. _If you count Durlag, son of Bolhur ‘Thunderaxe,’ as your kin, you will know well the family that built this place. The mother of the sons, the matron of the clan: what is her name?_

“Oh, that’s easy!” Imoen exclaimed. “It’s Islanne. We met her above you know, she was really sad.” 

The golem nodded again. _Your answer satisfies. Another question remains. Durlag, builder of the home, founder of the clan, had a name not from his father but his own deeds. The tower was built with the fortunes of hordes, but the last name of Durlag came from the fortune of battle. With axe and fire he cleansed the land of beasts he loved to fight, when axe alone would not suffice. I ask the second name of Durlag._

“Trollkiller”, Yeslick said. “All know that, who know the name of Durlag, he who was once clanless but built a clan of his own, only to lose it again.” 

Once again, the golem nodded. _Your answer satisfies. A question remains. The father of this place formed the clan that fell in times of treachery. False faces claimed the future, and clanless became Durlag. This he shared with his own father, a wanderer that lived by the strength of his weapon. The second name of Bolhur is what I ask you. Sense most common is all you need for this answer._

“Well, duh!” Rini impatiently said. “You only just told us that answer yourself. It was ‘Thunderaxe’. Try something challenging, why don’t you?” 

For a moment the golem almost seemed to smile. _Your wish shall be granted_ , it said. _Your answer satisfies. Here is the key to what you need. Here is the secret for what comes. The bones will walk where flesh cannot. The ward will walk the bones_. Then it closed its eyes once more, as the adventurers felt a powerful teleport spell tugging at them, sweeping them away to another room entirely. 

Zaerini blinked and looked about herself. She was standing with her friends in a round cave, with a golden star painted on the floor, marking all the directions of the compass. Four stone statues stood as silent sentinels in the north, south, east and west respectively. One of them resembled Durlag himself. Another was of a younger dwarf, one more of a human man, and the last was of a snarling doppleganger. 

“Isn’t something very important missing here?” Edwin said. 

“Like what?”

“A door.” 

The bard had to agree with that. There were no doors or windows anywhere, just smooth rock surrounding them everywhere. “Durlag and his games”, she said, gritting her teeth. “And of course it never occurred to him to warn us of this place.” 

“No secret door either”, a worried-looking Imoen said. “Least not that I can find.” 

Yeslick walked over to the four statues, watching the doppleganger one curiously. “Very well crafted”, he said. “They look almost alive.” He reached out to touch the doppleganger, and then took a surprised step backwards as it opened its mouth and spoke. _It began with usssss...and the mastersss...The tentacled ones directed and we assssaulted quietly with cover of night. We took of the weaker firssst, hiding amidsst the childrrren. None sssaw the arrival, none noticed the insssurrgence, and none sssurvived the final rissse. When Durlag realizzzed the deception it was tooo late! His own family sssought his life, and he ssslaughtered their falssse facessss. It began with usss, from the wessst._

“Whoa!” Imoen exclaimed. “Seriously creepy. Let’s see what’s up with the other ones!” 

The second statue was that of a dwarf not Durlag. It too spoke as it was approached. _This is not my face. The invaders came and took my true face, burying it with my body and my comrades. I was among the last, but not the very last, and I saw the horror to come. My child rose against me, though it was no longer my child. It wore her face, but I knew her to be dead. The doppelgangers came from within, and we could not fight ourselves. Better to die than to kill ourselves. What would be left of a man that has had to kill his family...and himself? I was among the last, but not the very last._

“How horrible”, Rini said, shuddering. “Imagine that, being forced to kill something that resembled your own child, even as it was trying to kill you. To be betrayed by your own family and loved ones would be enough to break anybody’s heart, I’d say.” 

Edwin stared at the statue, looking slightly ill, his dark eyes wide and haunted. “Yes…”, he said. “Yes…it…. it probably would. And yet…sometimes we have no choice but to do that which…which we loathe.”

“Perhaps. But it’s still awful.”

The wizard didn’t answer that, and he turned away towards the third statue, the one of a human man holding a large hammer. _We were hired after the battles were done, the statue said. . Durlag called upon us to make his visions true. We did our best, but his visions grew darker and soon we could not see. We waded through his fallen, and we waded through his gold. Near the end we feared for our lives, though not as much as he did. I was never truly sure whether he wished to keep the intruders out, or himself in. Both, I'll wager. We were hired after the battles were done, and we did our best._

“Ah”, Yeslick said. “This would be one of the builders that helped Durlag build the traps in the Tower, then. Not a job I would care for meself, but there you have it.” 

I suppose Durlag was afraid, Rini thought. He had good reason to be. I just wish he hadn’t reacted by trying to kill anybody whom he suspected of being even a remote threat. Under the circumstances I suppose it’s an understandable reaction, but that doesn’t mean I have to appreciate those nasty traps. “Just one more”, she said out loud. “Let’s see what Durlag himself has to say:” 

The statue of Durlag stirred as she approached it, its face just as sad as that of the ghost outside. _With me it ended. Speak now of my troubles, to show you have learnt. From where did my pain come? Where did my pain stab home? Where did my pain take root? Where dost my pain reside? Speak and show that you understand._

_A riddle game then_ , the bard thought. _He seems to like those_. She also had a feeling that she wouldn’t have long to think about an answer, but the three first statues had provided her with clues enough. _The doppelgangers came from the west, they said, and they started this…then it was the fight in the Tower, which is represented by the dwarf, and according to the compass on the floor he’s in the south. That would be when the pain ‘stabbed home’. Poor thing. Then it was the trap builders, who helped the pain ‘take root’ and finally Durlag himself. It is in him that the pain resides. No wonder his ghost seems half mad, having to live with memories like these. Or exist, or whatever he does._

“From the west it came”, she said, “and then the south. The east held it next, and now it rests in the north.”

The statue of Durlag bowed its head. _You have learned a little. You may yet survive._

Once again, the world twisted and swirled around her as the teleportation spell grabbed hold of her, and then she was suddenly standing in front of Durlag’s ghost rather than his statue. There was the same dull despair in the eyes of the ghost as in those of the statue, cold and miserable, filled with pain and self-loathing. Yet when the ghost spoke there was the faintest glimmer of hope in his voice. "You have found the room that gives direction, but are not done yet...The way is not yet clear...understand the paths that lead away...and you will return..."

_Yes_ , Zaerini thought. _Somehow, I have a feeling that we will. And hopefully we’ll get through all of this ‘understanding’ business without literally breaking down like you did. Hopefully._

“Now let me see”, Edwin said some time later. “We are running around in a large cave complex, where pools of disgustingly green acid are abundant. There are all sorts of ghouls and carrion crawlers who want nothing more than to suck the marrow from our bones and gorge themselves upon all sorts of interesting organs usually kept inside the body. Our food supplies are running low, and we may soon be forced to resort to carrion eating ourselves, assuming we come across any carrion. And you waste your sympathies on a dead dwarf? (That girl really needs to adjust her priorities.)”

“Well, I can’t help feeling sorry for Durlag”, Imoen said. “Think about it. He lost everyone he cared about, and it drove him crazy.” 

“That may be so, but it is beside the point. He is dead. You can’t help him.”

“How do you know that? And just because I feel sorry for him it doesn’t mean I can’t feel sorry for us too.” Imoen shook her pink head emphatically. “But think about it, being dead and unable to leave this place, stuck here for eternity. How would you feel in Durlag’s place?”

“The thing is”, Edwin morosely said, “that I have a feeling we’re going to find out all about that, one way or another. (Much as I might wish different. But sometimes there is no good choice. None at all.)”

Zaerini had been listening to the conversation with some interest. Edwin had done a pretty much accurate summary of the events of the past few hours. The party had entered a door from the hall where Durlag’s ghost remained, passing into a series of acid and ghoul-infested caves, following the ghost’s suggestion that ‘three paths’ must be taken. So far, this particular one had been very tedious. That she could take, but she was getting seriously worried about Edwin. The wizard might try to pretend otherwise, but she could tell that he had been very much affected by the words of the statues in Durlag’s chamber of painful memories, and that he was still brooding over them. 

_I wonder why he’s so bothered by Durlag’s fate. Sure, it’s all very sad, but isn’t as if he knew the dwarf_. The bard resolved to question Edwin on the subject later. She really hated to see him unhappy, and perhaps there might be something she could do to help. There had to be. 

Lost in her musings as she was, it was a few seconds before Rini noticed that her friends had fallen silent. Then she turned her head to see what they were looking at and felt her heart sink within her chest. It was a ghoul, but not just any old ghoul. This particular one was twice as large as ordinary and had wicked claws and teeth in addition to what had probably once been a beautiful sword. As the half-elf looked more closely at the ghoul, she could also see that it was wearing the remnants of plate mail armor, long since rusted. Several more ghouls stood behind it, mutely glaring at the adventurers. 

“So, you have come to this cursed place?” the ghoul hissed. “Fools you are and doomed as well. Welcome to the damned. You will stay here, yes you will. I guard the withered corpse of that fool Durlag, because there is little else to do!”

“No thank you”, Edwin said. “We really aren’t interested in becoming ghouls. (For one thing ghouls aren’t nearly powerful enough beings.)”

“Not powerful enough?” the ghoul snarled. “Not powerful enough! Bad enough that I, Grael, who was once a great hero, am fallen into undeath, but now you mock me as well? You who walk here just as I did; you will fall as I did from an enemy just as unthinkable! The difference is that Durlag will not be there to take the credit of victory! We fought the demon also! We fought also!! Legend speaks of him, not of us!”

“What do you mean, creature?” Jaheira asked, warily eyeing the ghoul, her fingers clutching her scimitar in a firm grip. “You are an unnatural being, why should we trust a word you say?”

The ghoul laughed, a horrible sound like ripping old leather. “Unnatural?” he chuckled. “You amuse me, druid. I was once much as you. A force of goodness and righteousness, or so I thought. Always so eager to smite evil wherever I found it, and I found it everywhere. Such a great hero I was. And then I died, and I became this abomination, and my friends who were as good and noble heroes as I was, they turned from me and cast me out. They betrayed me. They feared me, and they hated me, and so they reviled me. Well, I had my vengeance. They are dead, and they are here with me now.” He pointed at the row of ghouls behind him. 

“Y-you turned your friends into ghouls?” Khalid said, sounding horrified at the thought. 

Grael laughed again. “Not I. An evil so grand only fools chase and fight. A Tanar'ri true and horrible. Its name you do not speak unless its attention you wish to bring. Long before it walked and stalked, long before even the fall of the tower. We fought along with Durlag to encase the evil away. His was the blow that won, and ours were the souls that lost. Here we stay, turned to evil unredeemable, but heroes still and not to be killed! A cruel charity! Durlag is legend and we are a pity! Beware the gaze that is not a gaze, but a look into your soul!”

_A Tanar’ri?_ Rini thought, feeling a shiver along her back. _A demon. And here I thought we were already in trouble_. “Can you tell us anything else?” she asked. “Anything would be helpful. Perhaps we could help each other?”

“Yessss…” Grael hissed. “You can…you can help us. We are trapped, doomed to haunt here. Our names are forgotten, as men would wish to forget our fate, and that noble heroes could so easily be twisted into…into this! You can take the memory of battle and my name and I will be free from the shadow of Durlag and that damnable demon. Fight now, that you can say true that we battle ferocious! You will take the memory from here!”

_And yet another conversation turns into a fight to the death. Seems every other person I meet wants to kill me._

Even as she heard Jaheira and Edwin begin chanting spells, the bard slipped into her cat form, using its speed and evasiveness to dash between Grael’s legs, very careful not to look up as she did so. There were certain things she would prefer to leave unknown. Then she was behind the ghoul, and she hastily shifted back to her own shape, drawing her sword even as she did so. Her blow wasn’t forceful enough to sever his head as she had hoped; it merely dangled limply from a few sinews and bits of muscle, even as his body kept attacking. But being nearly headless kept Grael from fighting very effectively, impaired as he was by having his eyes upside-down. He became clumsier and more sluggish, his moves less coordinated. 

Rini dodged a blow from another ghoul, narrowly avoiding a nasty scratch to her face. But there were others, many others, and they kept coming even after Grael finally fell. She knew that she wouldn’t be able to hold out against them for long, her sword arm felt as heavy as lead and she was aching all over. And then there was a subtle shift in the air, a light from no obvious source, and the ghouls faltered, wailing loudly, retreating. “Turn back!” Yeslick said in a firm voice, his hand rose to ward the undead off as he called upon the power of his god. “If ye want to keep on existing, then go far from here and trouble us no longer.” 

Several of the ghouls hesitated, looking fearful and agitated before slinking off. The ones who remained were weakened and confused, and easily disposed of. “Thank you, Yeslick”, the bard said in a shaky voice. “That was a very clever thing to do.”

“Oh, ‘twasn’t me, lass”, the dwarf modestly said. “It was Clangeddin. Thank him, if ye must.” 

Grael turned out to have yet another wardstone in his possession, and several deadly acid pools and traps later it turned out to open the way to a hidden treasure chamber holding a small fortune in gold and gems. There was also a strange object that didn’t really fit with the rest of the room. A stone throne, standing by itself along one wall. 

“More thrones?” Edwin said. “Durlag certainly must have liked them. (Not that I blame him. Was it I, I would have one for every day in the week. Though I think I would also like a comfortable pillow, that seat looks unpleasantly hard.)” 

“Hey, maybe it’s not that bad after all!” Imoen said. “I’ll try it.” She sat on the throne, and as soon as she touched it the world rippled and changed once again, and the adventurers found themselves standing in the Compass Chamber, facing the four statues. 

“This again”, Rini said, shaking her head. “Well, I suppose we’ll have to go on with it. Who wants to start?” 

“I w-will”, Khalid said, approaching the first statue, the one depicting a doppelganger. “S-speak to us, s-statue. What would you h-have us know?”

The statue shifted slightly, and then it spoke, hissing and growling as before. _We were the fear made flessssh. We came to the home that Durrrlag built, and we hid in the people that he forrrmed. With tentacles to guide, we poisssoned the clan, and the nightmaresss of Durrrlag came true. Our mastersss said they could tassste his rage even in the air, but alwaysss there was the fear behind. We were the fear made flesssh, but it was already here._

“Tentacles”, Jaheira said. “I think that is a reference to mindflayers. Filthy creatures.”

“Maybe”, Rini said. “But it seems they weren’t what Durlag feared most. Not if the ‘fear was already here.’” She approached the statue of the human builder. “You”, she said. “What have you to say?” 

_We entrenched this place against all that would come, the statue said, sounding somehow regretful. We built retribution in the trip wires and vengeance in the fireballs. We worked the hatred into every nook and cranny, just as he wished, but our actions were guided from elsewhere. The foundation was the fear that it could happen again, and this was to be prevented at all costs. This was the mortar that held him together. We entrenched this place against all that would come. Friend and foe alike._

“This tower”, Yeslick murmured. “It…reflects the soul of Durlag. Betrayal cost him his kin, his love, his home and sanity. His soul turned dark, he kept it closely guarded, fortified by traps as deadly as any we’ve seen here. But if you keep all your foes out…you risk turning away your friends as well.” 

“One more”, Imoen said. “I’ll do it.” She walked over to the third statue, the one of a dwarf resembling Durlag. “Hi!” she said. “Sorry to bother you. Do you have anything else to say?” The dwarf statue turned its head towards her with what almost seemed to be a quizzical look, and then it spoke. _We followed Durlag. We were his people; his family. Durlag Trollkiller, son of Bolher Thunderaxe the clanless, formed this place with the spoils of a lifetime of adventure. It was majestic in those times, and we took what we needed from the fortune around us. We grew strong and proud, and Durlag felt he finally had a home. We were the future, his family, and if we were lost, then so was he. That was the fear that hid, that was beneath. We followed Durlag. We were his people._

“He wanted to keep them safe”, Edwin murmured, his voice hollow. “He only wanted to keep them safe, and it cost him everything, and them as well. (But…he couldn’t have acted differently, could he? Sometimes…sometimes only one path lies open to us, despite the pitfalls ahead, and the rocks that tear our feet to bloody shreds.)”

_This place really seems to be getting to him_ , Zaerini thought, frowning worriedly. _I have to get him out of here soon. This isn’t good for him, though why he would be tearing himself up so much about the fate of a dead dwarf is quite beyond me. It isn’t like him_. “Let us see what Durlag himself has to say”, she said out loud. “I don’t want to hang around this place a second longer than I have to.” Her belly tight with apprehension she walked up to the statue of Durlag Trollkiller. “Now it’s your turn”, she said. “Say what you will.” 

The statue stretched, its sad stone eyes fixed upon the young half-elf, and its gravelly voice rang out. _My father roamed as I, and saw much of the world in his time. Well respected he was, but he had no home. At his end, he died in some far away land, with no dwarven kin by his side. I would not allow such to happen to me. I would not follow his steps that far. I would not be Durlag the clanless. This was my fear. Trace the path of this fear, and show me you have learned._

“It began with you”, Edwin said in a leaden voice, “and with your need for a home…and…and a proper family. It grew with your clan, as you feared losing them, more than anything else. To protect them you built this place, but that drew the very invaders whose coming you feared. The fear became your home where it keeps you safe, along with the hate.” His hands were trembling slightly as he finished speaking. 

_You understand a little more of me_ , the statue of Durlag said. _You may yet live_.

“Maybe”, the wizard whispered even as the teleport spell whisked the party away. “But there are some things I would much prefer not to understand. (I…I just wish I could go home right now. Sometimes I wish we had never come here…)”

Zaerini stared at the woman in front of her, thinking that she certainly seemed to be meeting up with an awful lot of ghosts lately. Once Durlag’s enchanted statues had sent her and her friends safely out of the Compass Room for the second time, they had followed a previously uninvestigated tunnel, winding up in what seemed to be an old armory. There were old swords and axes scattered about on the floor, and rusting suits of armor as well. And then there was the ghost. The shade of a dwarven woman, her eyes dark with an old sadness as she watched the party. 

_Islanne_ , Rini thought. _I hope this is the real thing and not one of those doppelgangers._

“You have come far and fought hard”, Islanne said, watching the half-elf intently. “You…you are one of the strong ones. One such as I need, such as I need to…to aid my Durlag.”

_Need, is it? I don’t really like the sound of that._

“Islanne, venerable one”, Yeslick said, bowing deeply. “How may this dwarf aid you? How can your sorrow be eased?”

Islanne hesitated a moment. “This place…is filled with guilt. It is hurting my Durlag…eating at him. And the evil from outside…the Death Knight…that makes it worse. You must follow Durlag’s path. He…will only let you past if he thinks you worthy…and the Tower will only answer to his command…. it is become the vessel of his fear…of his hate. Aid my Durlag…do as he wishes…and I will use my magic…to send you safely from this place.” 

_You have to do it, kitten_ , Softpaws said. _It’s the only way out we’ve found._

_I know. But not without asking a question or two first_. “Islanne”, Zaerini said, “What can you tell us that may help? Surely there must be something? We have followed two of Durlag’s ‘paths’ already, I assume this is the third?”

Islanne nodded. “It is”, she said. “I…I know not of all the traps that my Durlag had put in here after my death. But I know…of something. In the next room…there is a wardstone, guarded by two undead horrors. You will need it…to continue. But…you need not fight. Wait…” The ghost shimmered and was suddenly gone, reappearing a few moment later with a smooth wardstone in her hand, the image of a bone painted on it. “Here…”, Islanne said. Then she bowed her head, and when she next spoke her voice was even sadder than before. “You…must understand my Durlag…before you can go on. Above all…he blames himself, blames himself for what happened here. “ Ghostly tears trickled down her cheeks. “I love him…I love him still. That is…why I remain here still…though I could have left long ago. So many times…so many times have I tried to…to tell him that, and that I do not blame him.”

“Why won’t he listen?” Imoen asked, her voice sympathetic. 

“He…he cannot hear me.” Islanne’s voice turned more distant. “He…has wrapped himself in shame and guilt…the pain keeps him from seeing my face…from hearing my words. I see him suffer…and I cannot comfort him…cannot even let him know I am near.” He face was pleading. “Please…if you can…let him know that I love him as…I always did. As…I always will do.” 

“We will”, Rini promised, feeling very sorry for the sad ghost. “I promise.” 

“If…if the evil in this Tower should perish…I think I may be able to go to my Durlag then. I…shall pray for your success, half-elf.” Once again the ghost faded away from sight. 

_Well_ , Rini thought. _At least that’s more help than Durlag offered._

To the southwest of the armory the adventurers found their way into a larger room, where the floor was completely intersected by a deep red carpet covered with intricate rune designs, the runes made up from shapes resembling humanoid bones. On the other side of the carpet were several chests and boxes, each one larger and more tempting than the one next to it. 

“You know”, Edwin said in a conversational voice, “for some strange and inexplicable reason I really don’t feel like setting foot on that carpet. ‘Sudden and painful death’ isn’t on my agenda for today, you see. Maybe some time next week. (No, make that ‘next millennium’.)” 

Rini tapped her foot in annoyance as she gave the carpet a dark glare. “Durlag doing interior decorating…” she said. “At least he was considerate enough to give a little warning by making those runes up from old bones. But perhaps it would have been easier to simply put up a sign.”

“Child”, Jaheira said, “do you really think you would have obeyed a sign telling you not to step on the carpet?”

“Well…I might have. Maybe. If I stopped to think about it.”

“Yes. That was my point.” 

Khalid shifted his new sword slightly, trying to get used to its weight. It was the one that the Black King from the Chessboard had used, and it was still a bit unfamiliar to him. “Imoen?” he asked. “C-can you handle this t-trap? Or should we go b-back?” 

The young rogue shook her head. “I can’t figure it out”, she said regretfully. “I’ve tried, but I don’t even know where to start. It’s way too difficult for me. Sorry.” 

“There has to be some way to get past though”, Edwin said. “Durlag was no thief, and I refuse to believe he’d keep one on hand at all times simply to get into his own treasury. (And showing any thief how to get into your treasury is hardly likely to leave you any treasure worth bothering with.)”

“There was that wardstone Islanne gave us”, Zaerini said, examining it more closely. “It does have the shape of bones on it. Let’s go back and look around a bit more.” 

As it turned out, another corridor led into a small and heavily trapped chamber where an old machine hummed quietly to itself in a corner. There was a slot in it where the wardstone fit perfectly, and then the machine fell silent. 

“So”, Edwin said once the party was back in the treasure room. “The carpet might be harmless now. Any volunteers wanting to try it out?” 

“I notice you are not volunteering yourself”, Jaheira said, giving the wizard a stern look. 

“Naturally not. I would not wish to risk depriving our charming leader of the pleasure of my own companionship.” He paused, and suddenly looked a little flustered. “Er…of the power of my own limitless magic, I meant to say. Yes. That’s what I meant. Exactly. (And besides, I have no particular wish to become a ‘Dead Wizard’.)”

“Well, that’s very considerate of you”, Rini said, smiling. _He called me ‘charming’!_ “The problem still remains though.” 

“Hey, I have an idea!” Imoen said. “Why don’t you summon up some little beastie to test the trap?” She wiggled her fingers in a vague ‘magicky’ gesture. 

“I suppose I could do that”, Edwin said. “Yes, it makes some sense. (Damnation, I wish I had thought of that first.)” He called up a small goblin that blinked in confusion at the adventurers, rubbing its small head. “You there”, Edwin said. “Head over to that chest over there.” He pointed at one of the chests on the other side of the room, and the goblin hurried to obey. There was a collective sigh of relief from the adventurers as the small monster safely crossed the rune carpet, cut off as the goblin was instantly fried by a lightning bolt, set on fire by a column of raging flames, and finally squashed by a falling boulder, the moment it set foot on the other side. 

“Wow”, Imoen said. “I guess that’s a few traps I won’t have to bother with disarming. Durlag didn’t do things by halves, did he?” 

“You know”, Edwin said, a new tone of respect in his voice, “for some reason I would have expected you to go all weepy about how sorry you felt for the goblin.” 

Imoen shrugged. “Well, sure I feel sorry for him”, she said. “But on the other hand, better him than us, right?” 

There were a few more traps to deal with, but nothing Imoen couldn’t relatively easily handle, and the treasure inside the chests proved worth it. There was one other odd object standing along a wall though. 

“Oh look”, Zaerini said. “A bed. I wonder why anybody would want to put a bed inside a treasury.”

“S-somebody very f-f-fond of money?” Khalid offered. 

“I suppose so. Say, Eddie? Remember that bed we broke in Ulcaster School?” The bard suddenly clasped her hand across her mouth as she realized what she’d said. _I did not just say that. Please tell me I didn’t say that!_

_You said it, kitten_ , Softpaws said, sounding more than a little amused. _What’s the problem? You did have fun._

_Yes…but…but…not the way they think! I mean, just look at them!_ Jaheira was staring from her to Edwin, looking as if she was planning to start a long scolding as soon as she decided whom to start with. Khalid was smiling benignly and Yeslick’s mouth was slowly gaping open. Imoen was giggling loudly behind her hand. As for Edwin, his eyes looked like they were about to pop out of his face, his cheeks had turned as red as his robe and he was managing to produce only small muffled noises rather than his customary stream of words. It…looked rather cute, Zaerini decided. _Oh gods. What’s wrong with me? It feels like my heart is melting as soon as I look at him, and I can’t concentrate, and I…and I…arrgh!_ “I didn’t mean that!” she hastily said. “Well, I meant it, but not like that! We…we were just playing around and…the bed…sort of…broke. Right, Eddie?”

The wizard was still staring at her. “Yes, yes”, he managed to say, almost stumbling over his own words. “Certainly. Thinking anything other is quite, quite ludicrous, and…and…just goes to show what kind of low, simian minds some people have, filled with nothing but base…er…urges. (And if that infernal giggling and those meaningful looks don’t stop now I will satisfy another urge by sending Magic Missiles up all of their noses.)” 

“Right”, Jaheira said in a deadpan voice. “It is so good to see that cleared up. Child, I think I will have a word with you later about some things Gorion may have neglected to instruct you in.” 

_No! NO! Not the ‘Talk’! Not with Jaheira! Please, NO!_ Too stunned to manage even to protest, the bard felt her knees give out under her, and she sat down heavily on the hard and lumpy bed. Then the world started spinning around her once again as the now familiar teleport spell was activated. _Well, that’s one way to change the subject. Strange. For once I almost feel grateful to Durlag._


	46. Mirror, Mirror

**In The Cards 46 – Mirror, Mirror**

_There is one enemy more deadly than any dragon, lich or beholder. It knows and can anticipate your every move. It knows your darkest secrets and your hidden desires, and it knows just what will hurt you the most. What is this enemy, you ask? To find out, all you need to do is to look in a proper mirror…_

_Excerpt from ‘Ruminations Of A Master Bard’_

“So”, Zaerini said to her friends. “Here we are again. Anybody want to guess what we’ve got to do next? What was that? Yes! We have to go talk to the nice statues! Won’t that be fun?” The bard stalked over to the nearest statue, that of a doppelganger. She was practically radiating annoyance, and if she’d currently had a tail it would have been lashing angrily back and forth. _I just want to get out of this stupid tower_ , she thought. _No more riddles, no more traps, no more crazy dwarves. I almost wish I’d let Sarevok cut my head off rather than come here. Hm, I wonder how he would have reacted to this place? Probably would have chopped his way straight through the wall or something…_ Grinning faintly at this mental image she approached the statue, waiting for it to speak. 

The doppelganger opened its mouth and hissed loudly. _We came to kill, but not without reasonsss. We were here before, asss were the Tentaclesss. Their underground wasss near, and the tower intruded on their expansionsss. Asss well, the bait was too great to passs. The dwarvesss did not hide their wealthhh; did not ssstop the rumorsss of waisst-deep gold! The invadersss came and ssstill come, but not without invite. We came to kill, but not without reasonsss_

“Yes”, Yeslick said, nodding. “Dwarves usually do not flaunt their wealth, that is a sure way to invite disaster. Durlag made a mistake, but surely he has been punished enough for it by now.” 

“Y-yes”, Khalid agreed. “L-losing his entire f-family is something n-nobody deserves.” 

“No”, Edwin said, pulling his robe closer around him as if he was feeling cold. “It…it really isn’t.”

“Let’s try another one”, Imoen said and moved over to the statue of a young dwarf. It turned its head to look at her, its face sad. _There was no warning, but it would not have helped. There was no need to prepare for hard times, because hard times would never come. So we were assured, and so we believed. The great Trollkiller was our provider, and he would protect us. We put down our swords to live the life he always wanted: we lived as family. Suspicions were for outsiders; guards and weapons were for wartime. There was no warning, but it would not have helped._

“Gorion…” Rini said, her voice quiet. “I always thought he could protect me against anything. I was so certain of that. And then I found out that I was wrong. So very wrong…anybody can die. Even those we love, who have always been there for us.” 

“Perhaps”, Edwin said. His face was tense as he gave the statue a hard look. “But we can always fight to keep that from happening. (And I will. No matter what.)” 

“Only one more”, Jaheira said and turned to the statue of a builder. It bowed its head and spoke. _We crafted as we were told. We built this place to prevent all from entering. We trapped every inch of every step and made sure that to enter meant death. We have killed many over time, though it is not our will. It is all to protect against a repeat of the past, though the challenges ensure it will repeat. A mountain to climb, a river to cross. Because it is there, they will come. We crafted as we were told._

“It is clear enough”, Yeslick said. “Sometimes the very fact that we are trying to protect ourselves or another will be thing that brings the danger. So it was with Durlag, for as he tried to keep his clan safe they forgot much of their battle skills, and as he tried to keep his tower safe he tempted people to enter. Still, it is always easy to be wise after the fact. I cannot find it in me to blame Durlag Trollkiller for wishing to keep his family from harm. Many would have done the same.” 

Zaerini didn’t answer. She was anxious to get through the final riddle, and then…then what? She didn’t know, but she knew that she had to go on. “Speak, Durlag”, she told the final statue. “What do you wish to say?” 

The statue of Durlag looked back at her, the cracks along its cheeks making it look as if it were weeping. _This is the end of things. Here I stood and struck them down as they came. My family and my clan, with their false faces; they dropped all pretense and drew their weapons against me. I fought them to the last, killing the shapechangers that had taken their forms. I cursed them for destroying the dream, but they were not the real evil. The real evil could not save my people before this deception. The real evil hid from life in the face of this tragedy. The real evil deserves the blame. This is the end of things. Answer where blame has fallen._

_Oh gods. The poor bastard completely blames himself for everything, doesn’t he? For being wealthy enough to attract the attention of the doppelgangers. For trying to keep his family safe and being overly protective. Even for retreating into solitude after he saw everybody he loved wiped out_. “I may not agree with this”, Rini said, “but this is what you think. The invaders were first, but you think they had their reasons to attack, so you do not blame them. You do not blame your family either, though they failed to see the danger, for they trusted that you would keep them safe. And you do not blame the craftsmen for turning this tower into a deathtrap, they did only what they were told, and so they have no responsibility for the deaths the Tower has claimed. In your own eyes, you are the one to blame for all that has happened here.” 

The statue nodded. _You have understood. You may yet survive what I could not._

A few seconds later the half-elf found herself standing opposite Durlag’s ghost. His eyes were as hollow and dead as before, she noticed. _Traps or no traps. Now that I know exactly what he went through I can’t really bring myself to hate him anymore._

“You will survive this place…” Durlag said, the faintest glimmer of hope in his voice. “You understand what built the hate...the fear...now you must prevent it becoming worse...a creature below...powerful beyond all...you must remove...or it shall make this place its own...such a fortress...impenetrable if remade in his image...”

“This would be the Death Knight, I take it”, Jaheira said. 

“Yes…yes it is. He…has put wards of his own in here. Until he is defeated…I cannot get you out. You must face him first…prevent this new evil from profiting…from my old sins…and you shall have my aid.” 

“We will”, Rini said. “After all, it’s not as if we have much choice. But there’s something you ought to know first.” She made her voice as steady and reliable as she could. “You may be an old nutball obsessed with traps, but you’re being too hard on yourself. So, you made mistakes, even some bad mistakes. That doesn’t make you evil, not when all you ever wanted was to keep your clan safe. Maybe you don’t know that, but Islanne does.” 

Durlag’s pale face jerked up, and there was deep pain in his voice. “I-Islanne? You…you have seen my Islanne?”

“Yes, we did”, Imoen interjected. “And she said that she still loves you, but she can’t go near you as long as you keep hating yourself.”

The ghost sighed, the sound of a wind sweeping through an abandoned graveyard. “Islanne…my love. I…want to believe. But…I cannot. Not yet. I…must think on this. Come…I will show you the way you must walk. Follow me…” With that he drifted off along the corridor that led towards the armory, turning right when he got there. At a wave of his hand a previously unseen door slid quietly open. “Through there…” Durlag stated. “Down the stairs. I…will await your return.” 

The passage led down a short stairway and into a mostly empty storage room with a few chests and boxes scattered on the floor, and another stairway leading further down. It wasn’t quite empty though. A strange woman in a very tight costume was on her hands and knees, rifling through one of the boxes in question. She was perhaps the largest woman Zaerini had ever seen, almost as wide as she was tall, with a long braid that reached to a bust so enormous that she was in serious danger of falling flat on her face whenever she bent forwards. She was mostly muscle though, rather than fat, and possibly taller even than Sarevok. As she got to her feet, huffing and puffing, Rini was reminded of a landslide, only in reverse. 

“Ha!” the woman said in an extremely haughty voice. “More fools on their way to oblivion. Really, this is no place for children.” There was something awfully familiar about that arrogant face as well. Rini tried to think back. The face she remembered hadn’t looked this much like an anvil, but the look in the eyes was the same. _No way can it be…_

“Largest Bust?!” the bard almost stammered.

“It is I”, the woman proudly proclaimed, slapping the bust in question with a fist the size of a small child’s head. “Largest Bust, Tomb Excavator Supreme. You may have my autographs for 50 gold a piece.” 

“But you can’t be Largest Bust!” Rini protested. “We saw this picture earlier and it hardly resembled you at all.”

“Oh, one of those pictures? You stupid girl, you should know better than to trust in merchandise. I never looked like that, but it’s what the teenage boys like, and their sad fantasies earn me a nice net profit at the end of the year. Honestly, there is no such thing as a woman with a bust that’s ten times wider than her waist. Not in real life, at least. Now, what are you amateurs doing here? You aren’t planning to steal my treasure, are you? I’ll get it all right, just as soon as I figure out how to fight that Death Knight who’s hiding out downstairs. There are bound to be some healing potions stacked around here, probably some massive weaponry as well. After all, he’s the big boss of this dungeon.” 

“But…” Imoen interjected. “How did you get in here, past all those traps? Durlag only opened the way to us after we did lots of running around and riddle solving.” 

Largest Bust snorted. “Durlag? Who’s that? I just stepped onto a hidden ledge after collecting ten silver and ten gold rings in various spots around the tower, and then I was teleported here. Works every time.” 

_The gods must really hate me_ , Rini thought. _That is just so unfair._

“Well”, Edwin said, “it has been a real experience meeting you, Miss Bust. I never would have imagined you would be this impressive. Larger than life, really. (Also, vaguely ogre-like, but let’s not go into that.) Perhaps you might be able to help us out.”

“Help you?” Largest Bust said with a contemptuous sneer. “What do you little amateurs want?”

“The true treasure of the Tower lies on the top floor”, Edwin said. “An enchanted prince, comely and rich beyond belief, cursed by a demon into eternal sleep. He lies in his chamber, awaiting the kiss of a True Hero, one who may free him from his enslavement, which is made even more terrible by the fact that the curse also makes him look like a homely and a particularly gormless dunce.”

“A wealthy and handsome prince?” Largest Bust said, flipping her brown braid across her shoulder and shifting her crossbow a little. “I like the sound of that. But why haven’t any of these gals claimed him?”

“Ah, but they are no True Heroes, of course. Not like you. None of them are worthy, though they certainly tried.” The Red Wizard’s voice took on a sorrowful note. “Still, if you think you aren’t up to it, I suppose the poor prince (Charming, his name is) will just have to wait a few more centuries for somebody to share his kingdom with. His father swore that the prince would marry whoever freed him, but if you’re not interested…”

“Move aside, pipsqueaks!” Largest Bust exclaimed, pushing Imoen and Khalid aside as she charged up the stairs, waving a crossbow in each chubby hand. “Prince Charming, I’m coming to get youuuu!” 

After the terrible noise that sounded like a stampeding herd of cattle had subsided, Zaerini finally spoke, her golden eyes very thoughtful. “I wonder if she’ll survive the monsters upstairs”, she said. “I certainly hope so.” 

“Oh yes”, Edwin said in a very smug voice. “It looks like that idiot Riggolo is going to get woken up by his One True Love after all. I’m sure Miss Bust will be a little disappointed when he doesn’t turn into a handsome prince, but fair is fair. After all he will likely be rather disappointed himself that she doesn’t quite match his mental image of her.” 

“Hm, I just remembered something else. Didn’t the succubus Kirinhale tell us that the magic kiss would bond the two people involved forever?”

Edwin gave her what she thought he meant to come across as an innocent look. It didn’t quite end up that way, mostly because he couldn’t quite keep from smirking, but it looked oddly endearing just the same, Rini thought. “You know”, he said, “I think you are right. It seems yet another one of my uncountable talents has emerged and blossomed. Not that I would ever wish to be anything other than a master mage, but apparently I could also become an unparalleled matchmaker.” 

After a much needed rest the party set out once again. The narrow staircase slowly wound itself deeper and deeper into the Tower. As she walked on, Zaerini thought she could feel the temperature rising, and she wondered if she would soon find herself at the very center of the world. Then she heard something, a strange and mournful sound rising up of the depths below her. Chanting, deep-voiced and doom-laden chanting. She couldn’t make out the words yet, but the rhythmic sound throbbed in her ears and pounded in her very bones. 

“The Death Knight”, Jaheira whispered. “It must be the night of the full moon outside, and so he is singing of the deeds that doomed him to his cursed existence.” 

Rini didn’t answer. The song of the Death Knight kept pulling at her, urging her onward. It woke images in her mind, images of blood and death. Murder. Child of Murder. The song tugged at her, the horrors it spoke of more and more tempting to the part of her that came from Bhaal. More images of murder, of slaughter. A knight, a stalwart knight in shining armor, one considered brave and just by most, dedicated to righteousness. An Inquisitor, seeking out and destroying those considered practitioners of dark magic. He had been on the trail of one such mage, one whose necromantic experiments had certainly been both dangerous and disgusting. However, the wizard’s wife had still loved him enough not to want to betray his whereabouts to the paladin. And then, driven by his zeal… _He tortured her_ , Rini thought, feeling sick with the horror of it all. _He tortured her to make her betray her husband, claiming that her love for him proved her as evil as he was._

The paladin’s god had seen his crime and hadn’t waited long to mete out a terrible punishment. The simple removal of divine powers wasn’t enough for an atrocity such as this. The knight had been turned into a Death Knight, twisted and evil, and part of his curse was being forced to sing of his crimes every full moon. The song started over again, over and over. The half-elf thought it might drive her mad if it went on for much longer, the story it told was that horrible, and the images were vivid in her mind. Worse, she could feel her sire stirring within, and though he did not speak his pleasure was clear. _Make it stop_ , she thought. _Please, make it stop! I can’t take this much longer._

And then there was a hand on her shoulder, steadying her, and she felt the terrible song diminish into a distant annoying buzz in her head. Edwin was looking very concerned as he peered into her face, and his voice was tense with anxiety. “Are you all right?” he whispered. “You look really bad.” Then he paused, flushing a little, and when next he spoke his words practically stumbled out of his mouth. “Well, when I say ‘bad’ I don’t mean bad as in ‘ugly’, I mean ‘bad’ as in ‘seriously unwell’, and possibly suffering from a malevolent spell, but not ugly. (No, never that. Quite the contrary.)” 

“I’ll be all right”, Rini said, managing a small smile. “Thanks, Eddie. Just, hold onto me, would you? It seems that helps keep the song out. I’ll be fine, as long as you don’t let me go.” 

“No”, the wizard said in a very quiet voice. “I will try not to. (Believe me when I say that I have no such wish whatsoever.)” 

Comforted by these words Zaerini went on, trying to ignore that Imoen, who was walking right behind her, said something that sounded suspiciously like an ‘Awwww!’ _I’ll be fine. He’s not going anywhere. He promised not to._

The chanting had stopped by the time the adventurers reached the bottom of the staircase, finding themselves in a large circular chamber, with stairs leading down towards a pit-like area. What it had originally been built for Rini couldn’t even begin to guess. Perhaps Durlag had meant to raise pet dragons. But now it was cold and empty, apart from its one uninvited inhabitant. The Death Knight. She recognized it from their previous brief encounter, from the dark armor and the blackened skull to the infernal light blazing from the empty eye sockets. Knowing exactly what had made it become a Death Knight in the first place didn’t make it the least bit less terrifying. There was something standing on the floor behind the Death Knight she noticed, an oblong object covered with a dark piece of cloth, but the former paladin didn’t give her any time to ponder what it was. 

“Hello, little ones”, the Death Knight said in a low and almost kindly voice. “I have been expecting you. Step into my parlor, as the spider told the fly.” 

_Now let me see_ , Rini thought. _There are several more or less traditional responses to a comment like that, according to the ballads. Like ‘Quake before me, Evil One!’ Doesn’t sound like me at all. Or ‘MUAHAHA! I am the stronger one, I will drink your blood.’ No, no I don’t really want to do that. And ‘Please don’t kill me’ sounds rather feeble_. “Tell me something”, she said, saying the first thing that popped into her head. “When you tortured that innocent woman to death, did you honestly believe that you were doing a good thing? If you did, then I feel almost sorry for you. You’re obviously not just an evil bastard, but a stupid one as well.” 

Behind her she could hear Jaheira whisper something that sounded like ‘suicidal infant’. She didn’t pay much attention to it. The Death Knight was smiling at her, or at least she thought he was. It was a bit difficult to tell since his face was more or less fleshless. “She was a sinner”, he said. “I have no regrets about wiping such filth off the face of Faerun. 

“That is o-outrageous!” Khalid sputtered, forgetting his normal timidity. “Your God was r-right to punish you.” 

The Death Knight shrugged. “My God lacked my insight. Being so Good he cannot comprehend the evil that lurks in the heart of men, not truly. In time he will see that I only served Law and Right, and he will take me back.” 

“Oh really?” Edwin said. “Tell me, do you also have hallucinations where you believe yourself to be a pink elephant, or do you make a habit of drooling and talking with trees? They’re both popular pastimes among the insane, I understand. (Perhaps we can pacify him by introducing him to basket weaving or finger-painting, as long as he doesn’t decide to use our blood rather than paint.)”

The Death Knight sounded rather annoyed when next he spoke. “Cease your prattle, your words are worthless. You have all served your purpose admirably, but now I tire of you.” 

“We serve no purpose of yours, foul one”, Yeslick said, his voice flinty. “We will destroy you or die trying.”

“You know nothing”, the undead warrior said. “You will go the way of all flesh, but I thank you all the same. “You have done just what I wished. I need a base that is fortified and secure, and I also do not wish my hirelings to die with every step. I bait some foolish adventurers in, and they make the floors safe. My posturing upstairs was made to taunt you, and egg you on. They come this far and die, and I do not need to sully my hands removing traps. I need not dirty my hands at all. Foolish flesh kills itself with my Mirror of Opposition. Durlag has built me a fine home, and you have been an excellent maid service. It is the duty of the flesh to toil and then be laid to rest. Already I have discovered an item of true power or two, but if you have done the same, then you will not enjoy them much longer. Perhaps you will forsake the flesh and return, but I doubt you to be that privileged.”

_Mirror of Opposition_ , Zaerini thought, remembering something. _Kirinhale the Succubus warned me to ‘beware the mirror’_. She tried not to glance to openly at the cloth-covered object on the floor. 

Jaheira growled deep in her throat as she drew her scimitar. “Fiend”, she said. “Unnatural filth. It is you who will die here, but I think it is not rest that you will find.” 

The Death Knight chuckled quietly, and Rini recognized the sound she had heard when Edwin dropped that pebble down the shaft. “Your resolve will make for a good epitaph. Here I shall crumble your bones to dust. You have discovered nothing that will not be silenced with your death. I will give you pain unlike you have ever known. There is no opponent more dangerous…than yourself.” With that he tore the cloth off the object behind him, revealing it to indeed be a mirror. Its surface was dark though, and the reflections were murky and unclear. But something was stirring, moving slowly within its depths as the Death Knight chanted a spell in a loud and booming voice, coming closer to the surface. And then the mirror images emerged. One for each of the adventurers, resembling them closely, but also twisted and foul. 

Jaheira’s mirror fiend was a rippling, changing form, claws and fur, scales and feathers all mixed together as it changed and changed, as if in a mockery of her druidical powers. Khalid’s was a walking corpse, rotting and dreadful, bleeding from many cruel wounds. Yeslick’s was wearing heavy chains, and its face was pinched and starved. Imoen’s looked almost normal, but in its own way it was equally frightening. Its face was cold and emotionless beneath her pink hair, and as her graceful black-garbed form glided closer her eyes were like empty pools, dark and still. Edwin’s was equally unnerving. It looked like him, but its face was pale as death, and then it opened its mouth and hissed, revealing a pair of cruel fangs dripping blood. 

Finally, Zaerini stared at the image that was heading for her. No outward monstrosity marred its features, no fangs or claws. It had her red hair, her own gently pointed ears and firm chin and her own golden eyes. Those eyes were blazing with a terrible light, a murderous fury that she had seen before and knew all too well. _Sarevok. I…look just like Sarevok_. It was made all the worse by the fact that she had tasted that fury herself, and she knew that the bloodlust she saw in the burning yellow eyes was exactly what she had felt at those times. _And…what Sarevok feels as well, I’m sure. We…may not be as different as I had once thought. Oh Gorion, what if I turn out like him?_

Then there was no more time for thought. The reflection was upon her, fighting with the same speed and agility that she possessed, using the same tricks. For every move she made, the mirror image knew how to block and parry her, and she couldn’t get close to it. Worse, she wasn’t even sure if she could harm it. It had her face. How could she kill herself? She was vaguely aware of her friends fighting all around her, of screams and clangs of weapons, and magic hissing in the air. She could pay no attention to it; she was completely focused upon her opponent. But she was wearying by now. Her arms ached, her legs were shaking and sweat was running down her face and back, almost blinding her. There might be blood as well; she had received at least one shallow cut across her cheek, and a deeper one in her leg. She knew that she couldn’t keep this up much longer. 

_Focus, kitten!_ Her familiar’s voice was sharp within her mind, and the cat, who hadn’t been gifted with a mirror image of her own, hissed and slashed with her claws at the monster’s legs. 

_I am! But she’s too strong for me!_

_Of course she is! She’s made to resemble you! You need to cut her off at the source!_

It took the bard a few seconds to guess the meaning of this, but then she saw. The Death Knight was still chanting in front of the mirror, feeding its power, and its surface swirled with black ripples. The source…

She couldn’t reach the mirror, there were too many enemies in the way, and she was locked in close combat and unable to cast a spell. But there was something else she might do, something that only she among her friends could hope to pull off. Drawing a deep breath, she gathered her voice, and she sang, a high and clear note, pure and deadly like a blade sliding into a heart. With a loud tinkling sound, the Mirror of Opposition cracked from side to side, showering the Death Knight with broken glass. 

In the blink of an eye all the mirror fiends winked out of existence, and the Death Knight screamed in agony as his own spell lashed back at him. He reeled, the orange light in his eyes flickering unsteadily, and he started reaching for his large two-handed sword. But as he reached towards his back to draw his sword, he left himself open. Khalid, bloody and badly wounded, staggered to his feet from where he had fallen before his mirror fiend’s attack, and with his final strength he plunged the Black King’s sword into the Death Knight’s rotting face. 

The noise was terrible, as if all the air in the chamber was being sucked out in a raging storm. Rini fell, her legs unable to bear her weight, and when she was finally able to move again the Death Knight was gone, only his empty armor remaining. Only his empty armor, and one more thing, a small object that had fallen on the floor near where his hand had been. The bard’s questing fingers closed around the hilt of a dagger. It was a dark blade, warm to her touch and strangely heavy. Its hilt was decorated with a single deep red gem, its core an impenetrable darkness. _Thanks a lot, Death Knight_ , she thought. _At least I’ll have some small compensation for all your annoying speeches…_

The Death Knight had fallen, and for a short while silence reigned in what had been his throne room. Rini could hear her own breathing heavy in her ears, and her heart was pounding quickly. Hardly thinking about it she stuck the dark-bladed dagger into her belt, not noticing the black light that winked briefly like an opening eye in the red pommel-jewel. The battle had been a fierce one, and none of the adventurers had escaped it unscathed. Khalid and Yeslick were worst off, and were hardly able to stand, but everybody was beaten and bloody to some extent. It was almost an hour, several spells and even more healing potions later that they all felt up to climbing the stairs again, and that was only because nobody wanted to look at the Death’s Knight’s empty armor for a second longer than they had to. If not for that they probably would have fallen asleep on the spot. 

Eventually they slowly staggered upstairs, leaning heavily on each other in order not to lose their balance. “So, Eddie”, Zaerini said, wincing at the ache in her back, “I seem to recall you frequently mentioning how much you’d like to get your hands on a demon summoning scroll. Think you can manage to put that off for just a little while longer? I really don’t feel like meeting any more powerful supernatural beings today, if you don’t mind.” 

The wizard was limping rather badly as he dragged himself up the seemingly endless stairs. “I think I can contain myself for now, yes”, he said. “But demon summoning is perfectly safe as long as you know what you’re doing.”

“And do you know what you’re doing?”

“Naturally. I always know what I’m doing. (True, I’ve only ever studied the theories behind it, but I’m certain I could pull it off. If not for the fact that certain people are overly skeptical about my abilities I would have done so already, I’m sure.)”

“Be that as it may”, Jaheira said, “I am grateful that you possess no such scroll at the moment. A Death Knight was bad enough. I have no particular wish to fight a demon, now or any time during this decade.” 

“We gave that Death Knight a good pounding though”, Yeslick said, sounding rather cheerful despite his black eye and the fact that some only partly healed ribs impaired his breathing. 

“Yep!” Imoen agreed. “Guess he won’t be back any time soon. That was a really clever move by the way, Rini. And Khalid, you were awesome!” 

“Oh!” the half-elven fighter said. “It w-was n-n-nothing really…”

“Sure it was”, Zaerini told him. “I broke the mirrors, but it was you who finished the Death Knight himself. Say, do you want me to make a song about that?” 

“I r-r-r-really don’t think…” 

It was at that moment that they reached the top of the stairs and felt the air turn chilly around them. Durlag’s ghost stood there, and for the first time they saw a faint smile on his face. “You…have driven out…the new invader”, the ghost said. “The Tower…is free again. I…can hardly believe it.”

“It was a really hard fight”, Imoen eagerly told the ghost. “But we slashed and dodged, and then Rini made all the mirror people explode, and then…”

Durlag’s ghost raised his hand. “I…will send you to the surface”, he said. “One…of the chains around…my heart…is broken. I…will send…” And then he fell silent, and the adventurers saw every trace of sorrow drain from his sunken eyes, replaced with the purest joy. Zaerini turned around to see what he was looking at, and she couldn’t help smiling herself. Islanne stood there, tears of happiness streaming down her ghostly face. 

“Durlag…” the dead dwarf woman said in a quiet voice. “My Durlag…you can see me at last.” 

Durlag simply stared, almost unable to comprehend what he was seeing. “Islanne?” he said, and his voice sounded as if it was being torn raw and bloody from his very soul. “You…are here?”

“As I have always been, Durlag. I love you now…as I loved you then…as I will always love you.”

“But I killed you…”

“Durlag…you did not kill me. Doppelgangers killed me. You loved me…loved us. You tried your best to keep us safe. You should not blame yourself so.” Smiling radiantly, Islanne stepped into her husband’s arms, embracing him fiercely. “The guilt…kept you from feeling my presence. My poor Durlag…how you have suffered. But just now you felt a little happiness….a little pride. It was enough to let me get near you.”

Durlag was holding his wife as if he would never let her go, gently touching her face, her hair. “Islanne…”, he said. “I missed you so…”

“I know husband. I missed you too.” Islanne laughed quietly. “Now, my Durlag. What say you we send these young people safe from here…and then depart ourselves. I would say…that we have tarried here long enough…and our children are waiting for us.” 

Durlag managed to tear his eyes away from his wife’s face for a moment, smiling happily at Zaerini and her friends. “My friends…”, he said. “I can never…repay you enough. Allow me…to do what I can…and see you safely out of here. I will never…forget what you have done for me…for us. Farewell…and all my blessings go with you.” With that he raised his arms in a sudden gesture, and Rini felt a powerful tugging at her, whisking her away like a leaf carried of by a sudden and powerful wind. _I have to say, that was really very sweet_ , she thought. _I’m happy those two found each other at last after being separated for so long. People who love each other shouldn’t be kept apart because one of them happened to make an unfortunate mistake._

Light. Blinding, glaring light, burning her skin, hurting her sensitive eyes. It was really a cloudy day outside, and the clouds were only occasionally penetrated by the faint light of the rising sun, but Zaerini didn’t care. It was sunlight, and there were playful winds tousling her red locks, and fresh air in her lungs, air that hadn’t stood still for centuries. She whooped out loud with delight, noticing that all her wounds had been healed as well. “Yes!” she cried out. “We’re out! Finally! No more dungeon, no more monsters, no more stupid riddles! We’re OUT!” 

“Not to mention rich”, Edwin said with a pleased smile, as he patted his bulging pack. 

The adventurers were standing on a grassy hill, some distance away from the squat gray shape of Durlag’s Tower, and the deep forest spread out below them. Rini couldn’t remember when last she had found simple trees that beautiful. She threw herself into Imoen’s arms, hugging her friend tightly, and then the two girls danced about on the grass, singing the merry and very rude song ‘Never Toss a Dwarf, Or He’ll Make You Hurl’. 

Jaheira rolled her eyes briefly at these antics, but she smiled indulgently and turned her face towards the sun, her green eyes half closed as she basked in the light, taking in the scent of the wind in her nostrils. “It is good to be out of that place”, she said. “And we have managed to do some good with the death of that undead creature.” 

“Y-yes”, Khalid said, his face lit with a proud smile. “J-jaheira? Did you s-see me strike h-him down?”

The druid smiled and put her arm around her husband’s waist. “Of course, I did”, she said. “I am not blind, after all. It was very brave.”

“R-r-really?”

“Yes, Khalid. Really.” 

Yeslick surreptitiously wiped at his eyes with his handkerchief. “Durlag and Islanne are at peace at last”, he said, his voice a little broken. “It gladdens this old dwarf’s heart to have seen such a thing come to pass.” 

“Yeah”, Imoen said, nodding. “It sure was sweet, wasn’t it? True Love…” She gave Zaerini a sly look beneath her pink locks. “Um…Rini…now that we’re out of there…are we gonna…”

Rini grinned widely at her friend. “Yes, Immy”, she said. “We are going to Baldur’s Gate. I think it’s past time we paid the city a visit.”

“Yes”, Edwin agreed. “So it is. We…really need to find out what’s been happening in our absence. (Besides, I can’t wait to display this new Archmagi robe to a discerning audience…)” 

“It’s decided then”, the bard said, her golden eyes glittering with anticipation. “Baldur’s Gate, watch out. The conquerors of Durlag’s Tower are heading your way. I think that might even be enough to impress my Big Brother…” 

_Him or your wizard, kitten?_ Softpaws asked. 

_Well…both, I suppose. See, Edwin’s looking more cheerful already! Everything will be all right now that we’re out of that dreadful place, you’ll see._

As they walked off, Zaerini looked back across her shoulder. The sun was rising slowly but steadily above Durlag’s Tower, bathing the gray cold stone in warm and life-giving light. Seen like this, the Tower didn’t look at all as frightening as it had in the darkness. _Yes_ , she thought happily. _We’re out, and that’s the most important thing. We’re free and we’re alive, and we’ll deal with Sarevok. Somehow, I know we will. Everything will be all right now._

It was only several hours later that she suddenly realized that she hadn’t even reacted to her familiar’s mention of ‘your wizard’. She also realized that she didn’t really mind.


	47. Zhents and Sensibility

**In The Cards 47 – Zhents and Sensibility**

_It may once in a while be worth listening to the ramblings of a madman. He may, one out of a hundred times come up with something truly ingenious and original. Of course, the problem lies in finding that one tiny glimmer of wisdom amidst all the insane ravings. As for the plans and plots of the clever, they will normally be more reliable, but for when based on a flawed premise and carried out with great dedication._

_Excerpt from ‘Ruminations Of A Master Bard’_

The stench of the sewer was overpowering, eye watering and quite frankly disgusting. Montaron had never considered himself a sensitive person, but this was a bit too much even for him. Xzar however didn’t seem to mind at all. The mad wizard bounced cheerfully along, his robe splattered with filth and grime as he poked and prodded at the things that floated along the sewer with his staff. 

“No, no”, Xzar said as he turned an ancient corpse over. “Much too bony.” Another one he clicked his tongue disapprovingly at. “And you are much too bloated. Really, just because you’re dead that’s no reason to let yourself go so completely. Look at Abduh here, he’s in excellent shape!” 

“Urrrgh!” the zombie agreed with his master. The stench didn’t bother him either, probably because his own was almost as bad. “Urrggh, urrrgh, UUURRRGH!” He proudly flexed his biceps and preened, making one of his ears fall off, and then had to wait for Xzar to stick it back on. 

_My partners in crime_ , Montaron thought despairingly. _An insane wizard and the world’s most stupid zombie, previously the world’s most stupid human. It’s not fair. I’m a cutthroat, and I’m happy like that. I never wanted to be the brains of the group. Not an ounce of common sense between them_. “Oh, shut yer hatch!” he snapped. “Wizard, let’s get on with it. We need to find a decent corpse for your friend so we can earn ourselves some coin and make up for your latest fiasco.” 

“Oh, don’t be like that, Monty”, Xzar said, his grotesquely tattooed face reproachful as he raked his fingers through his disheveled haystack-like hair, making it look like a dirty haystack. “It was a good plan; I was sure it would work. Why wouldn’t Abduh impress Sarevok? Just look at him, so strong, such a skilled warrior, such a charismatic personality…”

Abduh, meanwhile, dug something green out of his nose and ate it, a blissful expression on his dull face. 

“Charismatic…” Montaron muttered. “Maybe if you’re a tasteless idiot with the intelligence of a dead flea. Now, judging from that blasted ugly spiky getup Sarevok was wearing his taste may not be the best, but he’s hardly a fool.” 

“Urrrgh?” 

“That’s all right, Abduh”, Xzar said, patting the zombie on the arm. “Don’t mind Monty, he always gets bad-tempered when it’s that time of the month.” 

“URRRRGH?”

“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“Well, you do, Monty. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. Lots of people get edgy around a full moon.” Xzar lowered his voice into a conspiratorial whisper. “Some people even go crazy. But don’t you worry about a thing. I’ll make sure none of those madmen get near us. The one thing that worries me is that the rabbits may conspire to cloak them from my eyes.” His face suddenly started twitching violently. “The Rabbits! THE RABBITS! I see them! Krriiää! Lug-Yoggioth! Great Mojo protect us! It’s…it’s SEWER RABBITS, lurking beneath the surface, only their terrible long ears and horrible pink and twitchy little noses visible!” 

“That’s not a rabbit, that’s a carrion crawler.”

“Oh? You’re sure? Well, that’s all right then.” 

Montaron suddenly realized exactly what he was saying. “Carrion Crawler!” he screamed. “Daft buggers, move!” With that he started firing his crossbow at the pale and slithering fat shape that came gliding across the floor towards the two Zhentarim and their zombie, mandibles clicking hungrily. The surprised Xzar hesitated for a moment, and then started chanting a spell. Before he could finish it however, Abduh jumped on top of the monster and sat on its nose. Eventually the Carrion Crawler, powerful sewer dweller that it was, succumbed to the terrible stench of the zombie. 

“See?” Xzar said. “Such a powerful warrior he is. Sarevok ought to have been impressed with his prowess, particularly since I sewed that enchantment into Abduh’s skin.” He sighed. “Such a powerful Bhaalspawn under our control, wouldn’t that have been lovely? Oh well. I suppose we’ll have to try something else.” 

Abduh suddenly started jumping up and down, pointing eagerly at something over in a corner. “Urrgh! Urrgh Urrgh URRRGH!” 

“What is it Abduh?” Xzar eagerly asked the zombie. “Speak boy, speak! Look Monty, he’s trying to talk! Isn’t that sweet?”

_I thought I wouldn’t go to the Abyss until after I was dead. That’s what Granny always said. I’ll kill her for lying to me like that, giving me false hope_. “What?” Montaron growled. “Has some snotty little kid fallen down a well?” 

“No, no. Why would we be interested in that? He’s found us a nice corpse, see?” The corpse that the zombie was pointing at was indeed suitable. Not too fresh, not too runny. 

“I suppose that’ll do”, the halfling thief grumpily admitted. “And you’re certain your friend will pay good money for it?” 

“Oh yes. Arkion will keep his word.” Xzar leered. “Otherwise I’ll let Abduh sit on him and I’ll summon some wraiths to suck his soul out. Or at least chill him badly enough that he gets a terrible cold, which amounts to the same thing.”

“You…would summon wraiths to give somebody a cold?”

“Of course. There’s nothing more degrading and painful than a bad cold. And even the most powerful of clerical magic is helpless against it.” 

Montaron sighed. After the disastrous attempt at putting Sarevok under their control he and Xzar had been hiding out with an old acquaintance of the mad wizard’s, a fellow necromancer. And now Arkion had sent them into this blasted hell pit that was the sewers of Baldur’s Gate, in order to fetch him a corpse for his research. Montaron wasn’t certain he wanted to know what the corpse was meant to be used for, but it couldn’t very well be anything worse than Abduh. 

“Right”, he said. “So, what are we to do next? About Sarevok, I mean. Our superiors will want results, you know. If we can’t get any results we might as well go into exile right now.”

Xzar pursed his lips in thought. “You’re right, Monty”, he said. “We do need to do something. I suppose you challenging him to a duel is out of the question.” 

“Oh no. Halflings love fighting duels against giant armor-plated warriors. We’re famous for wanting to get stomped into the ground.” 

“Urrrgh?”

“You are?” Xzar said, sounding a little annoyed. “Why didn’t you say so? You could have driven the rabbits off long before now, and the red eyes that lurk at the bottom of my pack as well.” He started rummaging around in his pack. “I saw them only yesterday…”

_Sarcasm is just wasted on those two, isn’t it? Damn it, I suppose he really could have something living inside that pack of his. I’m sure I’ve heard strange noises coming from it at night._

“It was a joke”, Montaron said in a weary voice. “Don’t get yer knickers in a twist about it.” _Bad move. Don’t wanna think about Xzar in knickers…_

“Oh good! I knew you wouldn’t let me down Monty, you’re such a good friend. Sooo….if not a duel, what then? It has to be something foolproof. Hm. Why don’t we just assassinate him?”

“What do you mean _just_?! You think it’s that simple? You think I can just sneak inside the Iron Throne building, past all the guards, and off him? Next you’ll be wanting me to break into the Harper Headquarters…” 

“Urrrgh”, Abduh eloquently said, picking his nose again. 

“Of course!” Xzar exclaimed. “I have it now! Oh Monty, this is a wonderful plan!”

“What is?” the halfling thief asked, feeling very skeptical. 

“You’ll see. I’ll need to do a little research first, but then we move.” The wizard hugged himself tightly, dancing happily around in a little circle, and then he hugged both Abduh and Montaron at the same time. For once both the zombie and the thief agreed on something, namely on the fact that they would rather have done without such tender gestures, particularly since Xzar had been eating garlic the past three days in order to ‘keep Vampiric Rabbits away’. “I have such a cunning plan!” Xzar squealed happily. “The most cunning plan ever! Sarevok will soon be at our mercy, Monty, you’ll see!”

“Urrrgh?”

“He will?”

“Oh yes, my little friends. Trust me on this. Sarevok is going down.” Xzar giggled loudly. “I know it’s going to work, the King of the Socks told me so just now. This is going to be so much fun…” 

Montaron hoped his partner was correct in this. But somehow, for some strange and mysterious reason, he couldn’t quite manage to match Xzar’s confidence. 

_Meanwhile, on the road to Baldur’s Gate…_

Zaerini sighed as she raised her eyes to watch the sky. It was rapidly darkening, gray and purple clouds drawing together in a swirling dance. _There’ll be a thunderstorm before evening_ , she thought. _Pity we didn’t stay the day at the Friendly Arm but headed north directly. Oh well. At least we’re not far from the city, and this seems like a safe campsite. We’ll reach Baldur’s Gate tomorrow._

The party had traveled north from Durlag’s Tower, stopping en route in Beregost to sell off a large number of valuable items. _Funny…it wasn’t that long ago that a 300 gold reward seemed like a big deal. Come to think of it, it wasn’t all that long ago that a giant spider seemed like a big deal. And now we’ve just killed a Death Knight, and our fortune counts in tens of thousands. If this goes on, I wonder what we’ll up to in a few months time? Killing dragons and demiliches and stumbling across priceless artifacts wherever we go, no doubt. Assuming we live that long, of course. But we have become much more powerful. Perhaps…perhaps we will soon be able to stand against Sarevok_. The bard sighed. _Sarevok. He killed Gorion. It would be convenient if I could simply hate him. But…I’ve seen his eyes in my own face, looking back at me. And now I can’t stop wondering about him. He is my brother, after all. What made him become as he is? And how can I keep the same from happening to me?_

_It is simple, kitten_ , Softpaws proudly proclaimed. _Sarevok didn’t have a clever, beautiful and wise cat to keep him company._

Rini laughed quietly and picked her familiar up, scratching the cat behind one ear to make her purr. _Oh, of course. I should have thought of that myself._

_Yes you should. Now watch out. The druid seems to want to speak to you, and she’s looking very determined._

_Arrgh! No!_ The bard guessed what was coming and reacted instantly, using her shapeshifting power to slip into the form of a red cat. However, before she managed to sneak off, she heard Jaheira murmur a spell and then felt her hind legs entangled by a mass of twisting roots. _This is so undignified…_

“Child”, Jaheira said in a stern voice as she approached, “you really should not try to run out on me. There could be any number of dangerous monsters about. And I really do need to speak with you.” 

_I know! That’s why I was trying to get away!_ She bared her claws at the druid and hissed a warning. 

“Do not give me that”, Jaheira said, crossing her arms across her chest. “Gorion wanted me and Khalid to be your guardians, and I intend to carry out all the duties that otherwise would have rested on his shoulders. I will not give up on this. One way or another we will have this talk. Now, do you really want me to do it in wolf form? Or perhaps as a bear? I could hold you down with one paw, you know.” 

“Oh, all right!” Zaerini growled as she shifted back into her own form. “You big bully. I hope you realize this is all utterly ridiculous and unnecessary.” 

“I do not think so.” The druid dragged her unwilling victim off by one arm. Softpaws quietly followed them, looking far too amused for Rini’s taste. 

_Just let her get on with it, kitten_ , the cat advised. _Or else tell her that I’ve already been giving you advanced instruction._

_Are you crazy? You want me to tell Jaheira that I’ve been receiving…er…lessons in carnality and anatomy… from a cat? She’ll try to lock me up until my hair is as gray as Gorion’s was._

_Suit yourself and suffer then._

_Come to think of it, I’m rather glad I don’t have to be in cat form the day I eventually do…you know. What with the anatomy of male cats and all. Eeeewww…_

Jaheria primly sat down on a tree stump, her back as straight as an arrow. Rini sprawled on the ground in front of her, lying on her belly with her feet up in the air, her red hair tumbling into her eyes so that she had to blow it aside. “Shouldn’t Immy get this Talk too?” she asked. 

Jaheira’s face twitched a little. “Imoen needs a more advanced Talk, I think”, she said with a deep scowl. “Hopefully before she tries to bite off more than she can chew.” Then she drew a deep breath. “I think perhaps we ought to start at the beginning”, she said. “How much do you know about flowers?”

The golden-eyed half-elf gave the druid a look that clearly indicated that she thought the other woman might have gone mad. “Flowers? Can’t say I know all that much about flowers. Or care. I’m a city person, remember?” 

“Did you never wonder where flowers come from?” 

“No…can’t say that flowers ever were a major part of my thoughts, no. Why?”

Jaheira was starting to look desperate. “Well, what about bees?” 

Rini just barely managed to keep her face straight. “Bees?” 

“How much do you know about bees?”

“Jaheira, is this some sort of nature quiz? Because I really don’t see the point…”

“Just answer the question”, Jaheira said between clenched teeth. 

“Fine, fine. No need to get tetchy. Now let me see. Bees, you said. Well, they’re small. They’re yellow and black. And they buzz. So what?”

Softpaws’ mental snicker was very loud in Zaerini’s mind. _Kitten, you’re being cruel. I love it._

_Oh, she’ll get over it. I think._

Jaheira’s frown deepened even more. “Did you ever notice a certain connection between bees and flowers?” she tried. 

Rini deliberately made her face as blank as possible. “Connection?” she said in her most innocent voice. “What sort of connection…oh! Yes, bees do seem to like flowers, don’t they?”

“Yes. Yes, they do.” Jaheira had the look of a woman walking across day-old ice as she carefully picked her way through the conversation. “You may not know this, but there are girl-parts and boy-parts to flowers. And if the bee touches the boy-part of one flower and then the girl-part of another flower, it will help new flowers grow.” 

“Really?!” The bard made her eyes very, very wide with mock surprise. “Gorion never told me about that:” She paused. “Would the same thing happen with people?”

“What do you mean?” Jaheira asked, a wary look in her green eyes. 

“If a bee landed on a man and then on a woman, would that make a new baby grow inside the woman?” She paused and stuck her little finger in her mouth in an ‘I am a helpless and adorable little innocent girl’ gesture. “Or would the bee have to land on the man’s ‘boy-parts’ and then on the woman’s ‘girl-parts’? Because that sounds awfully risky and would make me very nervous…”

Jaheira just stared at her for a few seconds, and then she rapidly closed her mouth with a loud snap. “You are making fun of me!” she admonished her younger companion. 

Rini managed to keep the innocent look up for a few more seconds, but then she broke down, laughing hysterically and pounding her fists on the ground. “O…of course I am!” she panted. “Jaheira, me and Immy grew up in a library. We’ve known where babies come from since we were old enough to find the proper books. Not to mention some improper ones about all the fun things that usually precede the babies. You really don’t need to worry; we know how to take care of ourselves.” 

Jaheria’s scowl remained a moment longer, but then a small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “Very well”, she said. “Point taken. I will try not to baby you. It is just that when I look upon you, I see your youth, and I want to keep you from harm. Not just because Gorion asked me to, but because I care about you.”

“That’s all right, Jaheira”, the bard said, briefly hugging the older woman. “I understand, and I appreciate the thought. Just try not to overdo it in the future.”

“But seriously”, the druid said, “I trust you are protecting yourself properly? I…know you care for Edwin, but I really do not trust him to think of such matters until after the fact.”

Rini felt sudden heat rise in her cheeks. “There is nothing of the sort happening between me and Eddie”, she said. 

_At least not yet. More’s the pity._

_Softy, you’re not helping._

Jaheira looked suspicious. “But you do care for him”, she said. It wasn’t a question either. 

“Um…maybe I do. Yes, all right. I like him a lot. But we really haven’t been…”

“Just take care, that is all I ask”, Jaheira said. “I am certainly capable of functioning as a midwife, but this is not a proper time for you start a family, not with the danger you are currently in.”

“Jaheria, if I ever decide to start a wild and passionate liaison with anybody I promise that you will not be the first to know. Now can we please change the subject?” 

It was at that precise moment that there was a creaking and clanking sound coming from inside the bushes. “Now look what you have done!” Jaheira admonished as she drew her scimitar. “You have attracted the attention of some dangerous creature.” 

“Me? It was you!” 

And then a strange, cultured and overly pompous voice rang out, as loud as a trumpet. “Halt! Be you friend or foe?” The stranger emerged from the bushes, showing himself to be a knight in the shiniest armor Rini had ever seen. Looking at him nearly blinded her; it was like trying to stare directly into the sun, despite the gathering clouds overhead. _He must use up whole barrels of armor polish every week! And look, even the undersides of his boots are shiny. How does he manage that out here in the wilderness? Must be some sort of divine favor…_

The man was fairly young, she thought, a few years older than herself perhaps. He wasn’t bad looking, as such. The rigid look in his eyes detracted quite a bit from the general impression though. He looked like the sort of person who’d walk straight ahead through a fire, simply because it was the straight road, rather than make the slightest deviation from his ordained path. “Are you brigands that you withhold your names from a squire of Helm?” the man asked, fingering his sword. “I ask once again, be you friend or foe?” The thunder was coming closer now, but his words were clearly audible despite the approaching rumble. 

“Oh, tough one”, Rini said, rolling her eyes. “We’d have to be really stupid foes to admit it openly, wouldn’t we? Much better to simply pretend to be friends and get you when you’re not looking. And that means that you can’t really trust us if we do claim to be friends, so what’s the point, really? Anyway, how can we know what we are when we don’t know who you are?” 

The man looked more than a little confused at this, but he soon rallied. “I”, he proudly proclaimed, “am Ajantis, squire to Lord Helm, and member of the Most Noble Order of the Radiant Heart! I have come down from Waterdeep to chastise the brigands infesting these parts. Evil must, after all, be purged without mercy!” 

“Enthusiastic”, Jaheira said, “but too late. The bandits have been rooted out already, by us.” 

“Impossible!” Ajantis scoffed. “Those vile miscreants, those base villains, smited by a pair of females?” He paused. “Or should that be ‘smitten’? I always get uncertain about how to handle that verb, but ‘smite’ has such a nice ring about it. Smite….smite, smite, smite. Mmmmm… But truly, ladies, you jest with me. Two frail flowers of the fairer sex, stand against those hordes of the Wicked? As I said, impossible.” 

“Frail flowers?” Jaheira said, her voice flat. 

“Tell me something”, Rini said in her sweetest voice. “I’ve never actually met a would-be paladin before, so I’m sure you will forgive a poor little girl her ignorance.”

“Of course”, Ajantis said with a condescending smile on his face. “I always strive to be a Role Model to the Meek. So far, I succeed admirably, rooting out and chastising Evil wherever I go. I will be happy to instruct you both in the ways of Honor and Righteousness. We must take care though. This forest has a sense of Eeeeevil about it.”

_Did that male just call us ‘meek’? That’s it. He’s dead._

_Not necessarily ‘dead’, Softy. That would be a little harsh. But I’d say his attitude definitely deserves some ‘chastisement’._

“Uh-huh. Well, I was just wondering something. These ‘Evil’ people that you ‘purge without mercy’ – how do you pick them out among all the hordes of the ‘meek’? Must be difficult.” 

“Not at all. Anybody skulking about in the shadows, hiding from the Light of Helm is suspect, of course. Virtuous people should be up at dawn and in bed at dusk, after a day of Good and Prosperous work. Reading Unsuitable books is another sure sign of Evil.” He blushed a little. “I do not like to speak of such things in front of ladies. Why, only the other day I came across a peddler selling books where they…where they…oh it is too horrible to speak of!”

“Why not try”, Jaheira said in a deceptively calm voice.

“Where they actually described acts of…of carnality! Complete with…with instructions in…in BIRTH CONTROL! Outrageous! Where would we all be if everybody were subjected to that sort of knowledge? There ought to be a Law against it.” 

“And what did you do?” Zaerini asked. 

“Well, at first I skimmed through all the books of course. I had to know exactly what vileness I was protecting the Meek and Innocent against. And then I did it again, paying extra attention to the vilest parts, copying them down for further reference.”

“Oh, of course. I guessed as much. I bet you read them every night too, so you won’t forget a single detail.”

“How did you ever guess, my Lady?”

“I must have been granted a vision from Helm. And then what happened?”

“And then I burned all the books, reciting the Holy Tenets of Helm to purify the area. I could not allow such dangerous knowledge to be spread!” 

“You…you burned every single book?” Rini exclaimed, feeling rather horrified. “WHY?”

“To protect the Innocent, of course! After all, they are hardly capable of protecting their own souls or knowing what’s best for them, so it is a good thing that they have an upstanding member of the Order around to do it for them. And those books had a strong sense of Eeevil about them.”

“So, let me get this straight”, Zaerini said in a slow voice, made almost inaudible by the loud and threatening rumble of approaching thunder. “In a single stroke, you managed to destroy the livelihood of some poor bookseller, who’s probably starving in the streets even now, pollute the air with the sound of your droning voice, and by depriving lots of young people of useful knowledge you also increased the likelihood of unwanted pregnancies, perhaps even infant murders. Congratulations, idiot. I bet Helm is really proud of you. What next? Slaying the local Wise Woman for using herbs to cure people, rather than sending everybody to the temple of Helm?”

“I couldn’t find her…”

“Oh, too bad! So, you didn’t manage to start a plague as well? What a shame. Say, tin can! Just how much armor polish do you use anyway? It seems the fumes have melted your brains completely, assuming you had any in the first place, and quite frankly I doubt it.” 

It took Ajantis a few moments to digest this, but then his face turned purple with anger. “You mock the Righteous servant of Helm?” he cried out, drawing his sword. “Vile woman! You shall be made to pay for your insolence! No longer will you infect the world with your Evil.” He had raised his sword above his head now and was waving it about theatrically. “In the name of Helm, I shall Smite you!” 

KA-BOOOM! 

A blinding flash of lightning struck the sword, making the would-be smiter light up with a noble radiance all his own. The deafening thunder that came at the same time was loud enough that both half-elves had to cup their hands across their ears, wincing with pain. Once the spots of color faded from their eyes Jaheira bent over the prone figure on the ground, examining him. “He is dead, Zaerini”, she said in a solemn voice. 

“No kidding?” The bard looked at the sky. The clouds seemed to be withdrawing again. “Um…thanks!” she called out, waving at them. “I guess he was a bit much even for you, right Helm? Name-dropping from an idiot like that would probably annoy me if I were a god. Just let me know if I can ever do you a favor in return.” 

_Deep within the Iron Throne tower…_

It would have been such a simple thing to push the Iron Throne’s Head Butler out a window. Or stab, hang or poison him. Feeding him to a horde of hungry umberhulks would have been a little more challenging, but not impossible. Dropping an anvil on his head from a great height was the method Dekaras was currently favoring, however. Assuming he could get his hands on an anvil. And assuming he could drag it up the stairs without anybody noticing and asking awkward questions. Still, it was a pleasant mental exercise. 

_I haven’t been this bored in a very long time_ , the assassin thought. _Edwin had best hurry up and drag himself over here before I go totally out of my mind. I can’t believe I’m actually trying to entertain myself by planning an imaginary assassination of this sorry old soul._

Dekaras thought himself reasonably patient, and he was, for the most part. However, despite what he liked to tell himself, when he got bored enough his frustrated brain would eventually seek an outlet. Any outlet would do, really, but preferably something complicated and destructive. When such was the case, he also tended to unconsciously ignore certain trifling little details, such as personal safety, assuming he could make a semi-logical excuse for himself to do so. And right now, he was extremely bored. If nothing happened soon things were almost bound to get dangerous. 

After his ‘recovery’ of Sarevok’s private diary he really hadn’t been making much progress at all. This was due to the fact that the warrior had been absent a lot this past week, busying himself with attending various social functions among the nobility of Baldur’s Gate. Winski was always with him, presumably in order to prevent Sarevok from starting to chop off heads in his frustration at being forced to put up with such nonsense. Dekaras couldn’t blame either of them. But these circumstances did create a problem for him. He had a few ideas about how to get to Sarevok, but he needed to verify his theory somehow before progressing. Except with both Winski and Sarevok absent he was prevented from doing so and had to settle for spending time in his current disguise. 

It was an unfortunate fact that this disguise, named ‘Jacen Bron’ was that of a highly efficient butler. Serving drinks, fetching things and dusting was getting very old. Not to mention being forced to take orders from the Head Butler, a fussy and nervous man. Come to think of it, he seemed to get more nervous with every day. By now he twitched every time he instructed the assassin to do something. _I really can’t imagine why. It’s not as if I’ve ever been anything but courteous towards him. I just wish he wouldn’t look quite so much like a twitching rabbit when he speaks to me; it’s extremely annoying. The man looks as if he thinks I’m about to eat him. And I do wish he’d stop apologizing every time he gives me an order._

Dekaras quietly contemplated a scenario where he skewered the Head Butler on his feather duster. As he did so his lips curled into a faint smile, even as his black eyes focused on a spot right over the Head Butler’s carotid artery. The poor man started stammering even worse than before. “A-and one of the Gentlemen r-requested for some refreshments to be s-sent to his private quarters”, he squeaked, pointing at an elegant black bottle standing on a silver tray along with a pair of crystal glasses. “That is if you d-d-don’t mind?” 

The assassin raised an eyebrow in faint surprise. “Me, sir?” he said. “Not at all. I live to serve, as they say. I hope you have no objections to make regarding my performance thus far?” 

“N-no! Not at a-all!” 

“Good. I am glad to hear it. Now, sir, where did you wish me to deliver these ‘refreshments’?”

The Head Butler wiped his brow with relief. “Top floor”, he said. “There’s a h-hidden door behind the tapestry of the d-dragon. You can’t m-miss it.” 

_Then it can’t be a very expertly hidden door, now can it?_

“Very good, sir”, Dekaras said smoothly. “Anything else?”

“Just p-please try to keep him h-happy, Bron. He’s been acting very s-strange lately.” 

_Is that so?_ Dekaras thought, making sure none of the triumph he was feeling showed on his face. _Could it be that my luck has turned and that Sarevok is home at last?_ He made no comment however, but simply bowed and picked up the tray. It would be too suspicious to ask questions. 

The assassin made his way upstairs, settling into that noiseless walk so treasured by professional killers as well as by servants everywhere. Finding the tapestry was no difficult task. It depicted a large Red Dragon breathing fire on a troop of armored knights, frying them alive. _Edwin would undoubtedly love that one. Not very tasteful, but it does make a certain impression._

Behind the tapestry there was indeed a door. Dekaras carefully knocked on it, expertly balancing the tray on the fingers of his free hand. It had been tempting to pour a generous dollop of poison into the beverage, but he had decided against it. For one thing, Sarevok probably had an iron constitution, and it would be better to wait until he had a chance to augment the poison with something else, now that he had started formulating a plan. For another thing, he couldn’t be certain that it was in fact Sarevok waiting inside, and it would be extremely sloppy to kill the wrong person, not to mention distasteful. 

Then the door was slowly pulled open, and the assassin calmly regarded the person standing on the other side. Not Sarevok, unfortunately. _But it is not a complete loss, all the same. This could get very interesting_. “Your refreshments, sir”, he said. 

Winski Perorate nodded slowly, a faintly self-mocking smile on his lips. “Good”, he said. “Come inside, why don’t you? I could do with some company.” 

As he busied himself with pouring wine into one of the glasses Dekaras’ surreptitiously studied his surroundings. Briefly he considered taking the wizard out. It would certainly deprive Sarevok of a valuable ally and create a big disruption in the ranks of the Iron Throne. _I run the risk of getting interrupted though. There were two glasses on that tray, and I really don’t want Sarevok walking in on me. Besides, I don’t want to be hasty about this. He is dangerous, this one, and there may be a better way to take advantage of this situation._

The room was fairly small, but very comfortable. There was a dark green velvet couch, a small table in front of it, a writing desk and several tall bookcases overflowing with heavy tomes. _No scrolls that I can see though_ , Dekaras thought. _Now that is odd. The man is a wizard, after all. He would want to keep such tools close by, wouldn’t he? Ah, now I see. That painting – there will be a safe behind it. It would be worth a lot to get a closer look at that._

“Come, friend, why don’t you join me over a drink?” Winski said, and the slightly slurred quality of his speech told Dekaras that he’d likely had several already. “I’ve been drinking alone all afternoon. I feel the need for somebody to converse with – or at least listen to me rant.” 

“I probably shouldn’t, sir. Not on duty. But if that is truly what you wish…”

“It is. Pour yourself a drink, man, and sit down. Having to look up at you like that is making me dizzy.” 

Complying with the wizard’s wishes, the assassin served himself and then took a seat on one of the chairs on the opposite side of the table. The wary tension in his poise made a strange contrast to the weary and boneless way his companion slumped on the sofa. “What a day”, Winski said with a heavy sigh, sipping from his glass. His face was even gaunter than Dekaras remembered it, even if he’d never been this close to the wizard before. _He almost makes even me look bulky by comparison. I wonder if he is ill?_ Winski’s eyes were deeply sunken into his skull, only a sharp glitter beneath his eyebrows hinting at their presence, and there were unhealthy-looking dark circles beneath them. His skin was almost gray in color, his clothes rumpled, and his coarse black hair was an unkempt mess. It all reminded Dekaras rather uncomfortably of what he would see in a mirror if he’d been on an assignment long enough and had forgotten about details like eating and sleeping. _Though I hope I’ve never looked as if I’d drop dead if somebody poked me. No, it has to be more than an excess of work. Something is eating him from inside, I’d wager. And I have a feeling I can guess what it is. Poor devil. Edwin is one thing, but I don’t envy the one who tries to keep Sarevok in line._

“Tell me something, friend”, Winski said. “What is your name, by the way?”

“Bron, sir. Jacen Bron, at your service.”

“Right. Well then, Master Bron, a question for you. Do you by any chance have children?” 

The question was such an unexpected and emotionally charged one that it actually managed to make the assassin flinch slightly, and he came very close to squeezing the foot of the glass he was holding right off. “I…do”, he said. “A…son.” Then he cursed himself inwardly for having admitted such a thing in front of what had to be considered an enemy. _What are you doing? You can’t let anybody know that_. For an instant he considered going for the wizard’s throat, but then the logical part of his brain won out over instinct. _No. It was a stupid mistake to make, but it can do no real harm. He doesn’t know who I really am, after all. That one bit of information will do him no good._

“Ah”, Winski said, his voice a little sad as he drank from his glass. “And from your reaction just now I would venture to guess that your relationship is about as complicated as that of me and mine.” 

“Reaction, sir?” _Curse it; I must gather my thoughts better than this. He shouldn’t be able to read me that easily_. Making a conscious effort of will, Dekaras smoothed his features into the emotionless mask he sometimes would adopt on purpose in order to unnerve people. “I have no idea what you are talking about.” 

“Oh, I think you do. I hardly think you have anything to be ashamed of though. You couldn’t possibly have a more convoluted and nerve-wracking family life than I do.”

_You might be surprised there_. “Indeed, sir?” the assassin said out loud, narrowing his eyes. “What makes you say that?”

Winski didn’t answer immediately. His eyes were a little unfocused, Dekaras noticed, hinting that he was much drunker than had been apparent at first. “True”, he said, sounding rather bitter, “he may not be officially my son, but it is how you feel privately that matters, don’t you think?”

“Absolutely, sir”, the assassin agreed with great emphasis. “I couldn’t agree more.”

“He’s not really Reiltar’s either, you know”, Winski said with a whimsical smile on his face. “I dare say anybody with eyes and a brain could guess that much. That bastard would be hard pressed to father a goat, much less a wonder like Sarevok.” He paused. “In case you were thinking about blackmailing me in order to keep quiet about that remark, don’t bother. Reiltar already knows exactly how I feel about him. I stay for Sarevok’s sake, and he keeps me around because I’m powerful enough a mage to be useful to him. We’re both aware that we hate each other.” 

“I…see.”

“I always knew Sarevok had great potential”, Winski continued, pouring himself another glass. “Ever since Reiltar adopted him when he was just a boy starving on the streets. Not how great exactly, but still. Would you know, at first, I thought I might somehow gain greater power through helping him develop his own. And then…I started to care for him. Love him, even.” His face twisted briefly with pain. “I never had much use for love before. And then once…but it makes no difference and I cannot speak of it. You have a child of your own, you said, Bron. Then you must know what it is like. You want nothing but the best for him, you would tear the world apart for his sake, though sometimes you think he’ll be the death of you.”

“Of course,” Dekaras murmured in a low voice, speaking only partly to the wizard in front of him. “And rip out the throat of anybody threatening him, no matter who.” 

“Yes, exactly! And suffer just about any pain for his sake.” 

“Certainly. Die for him, even.” 

“Absolutely. And you constantly worry about his safety, particularly when he insists that he’s old enough to handle everything on his own.”

“Which of course he isn’t. And which makes you lie awake at night, dreading what new disastrous scheme he might have got himself involved in.” 

Winski nodded vigorously. “I can see you are a man after my own heart, Bron”, he said. “You obviously know how it is. Here, have another drink.” 

“I haven’t finished the first one.” 

“Makes no difference. With worries like these, we need to get drunk. I wonder if yours is as cocky and stubborn as mine?”

Dekaras thought about that for a moment. “I’d certainly say so”, he said. “More inclined towards verbal aggression than physical, perhaps.” 

Winski sighed. “And more well-balanced, I don’t doubt.” He leaned his head into his hands. “It’s all gone wrong, Bron”, he said, and now his voice was dead and leaden. “We had this plan, you see. I can’t tell you the details of course, but it was an excellent plan, or so I thought. We’ll probably succeed too. But now…the changes in him are becoming more and more rapid, and they are not what I had hoped they would be. He’s slipping away from me, Bron. I…worry that soon I won’t be able to reach him at all. That he will…discard me, not allowing me to give him the help he needs.” 

_At least I don’t have that particular problem. Which is fortunate, or I’d probably be just as miserable as he is_. “Perhaps it need not happen that way, sir.” 

“Perhaps. But I have more or less resigned myself to my fate, Bron.” Winski’s face was set and drawn. “It will all be over soon. One way or another. As long as this is really what will benefit him the most, then I won’t mind. It’s just that I have a feeling that…” He interrupted himself, as there was a loud and impatient knock at the door, the knock of a large and mailed fist. 

Sarevok strode into the room, somehow managing to fill it both bodily and vocally. “Winski”, he said. “I am sorry about what I said before, but I still order you to…” Then he broke off as he spotted the other occupant of the room. “What is _he_ doing here?”

_Not a particularly warm welcome, but of course assassins don’t usually get that. I suppose I should be grateful that he actually asked and didn’t simply attempt to behead me._

“Master Bron was good enough to bring me some refreshments and keep me company”, Winski said. “Do try to show some respect or I’ll share the story of your first dancing lessons with him.” 

Dekaras was then treated to the sight of seeing the huge armored man in front of him look acutely embarrassed. Winski’s tone of voice had sounded remarkably familiar. _So that’s how it sounds from the outside. Interesting_. “I was about to leave anyway, sir”, he said. “Duty calls. Simply allow me to say that I understand your concerns, more so than you may realize. I don’t doubt that if there is anything at all you can do to achieve your goals, then you will.” 

“Yes.” Winski raised his hand in a gesture of farewell. “Anything for the sake of the children, after all. Right, Master Bron?”

“Quite so”, the assassin said, bowing to his opposite before he deftly slipped past the large and threatening shape of Sarevok and into the shadowy corridor outside. “Anything for the sake of the children. Anything at all.”


	48. Unusually Heavy Rain

**In The Cards 48 – Unusually Heavy Rain**

_Some girls want flower and others candy or jewels. While I love all those things, my taste is a bit more specialized. Or bizarre, depending on how you want to look at it. The road to my heart is a somewhat crooked one._

_Excerpt from ‘Ruminations Of A Master Bard’_

“I can’t believe I missed that!” Edwin complained. “You killed a paladin and didn’t think to ask me to watch? That’s really inconsiderate.” 

“For the last time”, Jaheira snapped, “we did not kill him! He was struck by lightning!” 

“Oh, that’s a really believable alibi that is. (Next she’ll probably claim he was killed by a mysterious one-armed man.)” 

“Shouldn’t we bury him or something?” Imoen asked. 

Zaerini shook her head, making her red locks dance about her face. “It would take hours with this hard ground”, she said. 

“How about bringing him to a temple then?”

“What, drag a dead paladin into the city and protest our innocence? We’d be lucky if they gave us a trial before trying to hang us. And if we did manage to get him raised, he’d only blame us anyway.” The bard bent over the dead paladin, rifling through his belongings. “Better leave him here. He was trying to kill us too.” 

Edwin nodded. “Yes”, he said. “That is the most practical approach in situations like this. I thoroughly approve.”

Khalild looked a little askance at him. “D-do you have to g-get rid of dead bodies often then?”

The Red Wizard shrugged. “Once in a while”, he said. “It is a useful skill. (And I did receive a very practical education.)” 

Rini had only been paying partial attention to the conversation. “Nothing of great value here”, she said as she closed Ajantis’ pack. “Used hankies, Dummies Guide To Being A Paladin Rulebook, a really big jar of armor polish, written instructions on some religious ceremonies, a letter from somebody called ‘Sir Keldorn’ that’s mostly a long sermon on things Ajantis’ needs to improve about himself and ends with a request to search for a ‘favorite pen’…nothing interesting.” 

“Here’s something though”, Imoen said and lifted the dead man’s armored foot. “There’s something written on the underside of his boot.” 

“Let me see that”, the half-elf said. “The letters are rather clumsily written. They look almost like the scrawlings of a child. ‘If found, please return to the Most Noble Order of the Radiant Heart’. Now that is weird.” 

“I used to mark my favorite toys like that when I was a child”, Edwin said in a pensive voice. “I would never have thought of doing it to myself though. (I suppose this metal-plated monkey must probably get himself killed on a regular basis. That would account for some of his atrocious behavior. He was lucky I was not present, or I would have killed him myself for his rudeness.)” 

“Somebody might be looking for him”, Yeslick said. “We really should notify the proper authorities.” 

“Fine, fine”, Zaerini said, throwing up her hands in the air. “Once we get to the Gate we’ll leave an anonymous note at the temple of Helm or something. But I honestly have no idea why anybody would want to raise this jerk.” 

The following morning the adventurers passed through some farmland, unfortunately infested with burrowing Ankhegs. The acid-spitting monsters turned out to be really annoying, but they yielded some lovely scales, shimmering metallic green. Jaheira explained that she wanted to hang onto them and see about having them made into an armor that wouldn’t interfere with her druidic powers and would be stronger than her current leather one. An encounter with a local farmer whose son had gone missing led to a brief foray into a nest infested with even more Ankhegs, but there were some nice spell scrolls hidden inside, along with the corpse of the poor farmer’s son. 

And then there were the fishermen who approached the party, claiming that a vicious priestess of Umberlee, the Bitch Queen goddess of the sea, was harassing them. After they offered a substantial reward Zaerini promised to look into the matter, seeing that the priestess in question lived right next to the bridge leading into Baldur’s Gate anyway. The house wasn’t difficult to find, a small cottage that wasn’t very well maintained. 

“I do not like this”, Jaheira said as they approached. “This feels almost like taking part in an assassination.” 

“And?” Edwin said, shrugging. 

“And that is wrong!” 

“Don’t be a hypocrite, druid. Or weren’t you aware of the fact that the Harpers regularly employ assassins of their own?” Edwin looked rather smug as he said this. 

“That is not true.” 

“Oh yes, it is. You may not be high enough in their ranks to have access to that sort of information, but I have…contacts…of my own, and I hear things. (And most entertaining stories they can be too.) Do let me know when you come up with a good explanation on why your own assassinations are more moral than your opponents’. Oh, and ‘We’re The Good Guys’ doesn’t count, in case you were wondering.” 

“I think we’re getting a bit ahead of ourselves here”, Zaerini said as she stepped up to the door. “I only promised to talk to this priestess, not to kill her. Let’s take things one step at a time.” Then the door opened, and the bard stared at the person standing in front of her. It was just a little girl; maybe twelve or so, with dark brown hair and mistrustful eyes, gray like a stormy sea. “Stop!” the girl cried out. “You are trespassing on my land-home! None come this way armed as you are; it was those horrible fishermen what hired you wasn't it? I am Tenya, and I demand an answer! Speak!”

“Um…maybe. But…” _She’s just a little girl! I can’t possibly kill a little girl, no matter which god she serves._

“Liar!” the girl screamed. “You come from them, but I shall put an end to this now. The sea cries out for vengeance!” Then she raised her hands and started chanting a spell. 

“Stop her!” Rini cried out. “Try not to hurt her.” She threw herself at the girl, tackling her to the floor. In the end it was an uneven fight. The little priestess’ spells couldn’t possibly stand against six experienced adventurers. She was disarmed, her hands tied behind her back. 

“Why do you do this?” Tenya said, her eyes desperate. “Don't you know what they've done? Sonner and the others, THEY are the EVIL ones! They killed my mother and now you help them?! She only did her duty, collecting the offerings from those that would use the sea. They stole her elemental summoning bowl and tortured her for the words that make it work. Now they all misuse a gift from Umberlee to pillage the seas, and my mother’s spirit can't rest until it is returned. I have more power than mother had, Umberlee gave me her anger, but I can't find the bowl. All I can do is hurt them 'till they give it back or die, but I'm so tired. I don't have mother's will, and the goddess is so demanding. Help me, please.”

_I know about demanding gods, all right_. “All right”, Zaerini said. “Those fishermen lied to me and tried to trick me into killing you. I don’t like that sort of thing. I think I’m going to have to go have a word with them.”

Tenya smiled briefly. “Oh, thank you! The Sea Queen may yet be satisfied with the return of the bowl, but one way or another Sonner's group must no longer profit at her expense. It is probably being hidden in a shrine to another god. I don't know where the shrine is, and couldn't go near even if I did, but Sonner may tell you.... if you ask him with a blade. Go now, for Umberlee is seldom patient, and you are not yet on her good side.”

Once the party got back to the fishing village, they sought out Sonner directly. “You are back!” the fisherman said. “Have you…have you killed the priestess yet?” Then he gasped as he suddenly felt the business end of a sword poking his chest. 

“Would you know”, Rini said in a conversational voice, “you forgot to mention that it was a child you wanted me to kill. Call me picky if you like – but I don’t kill children, and I have no patience with those who do. I’d much rather kill you, unless you hand over a certain magical bowl, that is.” 

“Curse you!” the fisherman spat. “You’ve fallen for the lies of that traitorous little sea bitch!”

“The bowl, Sonner”, Yeslick said in a hard voice. “We do nay have all day, and me hammer is itchin’ to make contact with yer child-slayin’ skull.”

“Fools! You know nothing! The little bitch’s mother kept increasing the price for safe passage on the seas, and we had no choice but to pay. Not until we met a cleric of Talos, the Storm Lord, and arranged for another form of protection. So you see, we are all pawns in the games of the gods!”

“Perhaps”, Rini said, pushing her sword in just a little bit. “But at least I can choose which side of the board I play on, and in this case it’s not yours. The bowl, Sonner. Now.” She was smiling at the man now, and she felt the flames of her anger dancing in her blood. From the way the fisherman blanched he could probably see at least part of it.

“Here!” he spat, handing over a small golden bowl. “Take it! Let the little bitch have it and get lost!” 

Heat. Heat flaring higher, fiery rage burning in her brain. KILL HIM! Was it her sire’s voice or her own? She couldn’t tell for certain, not this time. KILL HIM NOW! Her fingers tightened painfully around the hilt of her sword. She wanted him dead, the would-be child-killer, wanted it so badly. It would be so easy. So very easy. Too easy. And it was what her sire wanted. Had he set this up somehow? Arranged this in order to tempt her to murder? “Get out of here yourself”, she hissed, her voice inhuman in its fury. “Get out now or I will kill you.” Whatever Sonner saw in her face, it was enough to make his face turn the color of an old cheese, and a wet spot rapidly spread on the front of his pants. He turned and ran, or rather stumbled away, his friends close behind him. The bard stared after him, her face murderous and her golden eyes blazing as fiercely as those of her elder brother. And then she let fly an arrow, a poisoned and biting one, and it hit the running man in the neck, his face rapidly turning black as he twisted on the ground. “Then again”, she said, “I may just kill you anyway.” _And maybe this was what Bhaal wanted me to do. But this time…this one time…I really don’t care._

“Child…” Jaheira said. 

“Don’t talk to me. Please Jaheira. Not right now. He would have killed a child. I…got upset. That’s all.” The druid said nothing, but she looked concerned. So did Khalid. Imoen looked sad, but mostly worried about her friend. Yeslick a little puzzled. And Edwin…looked at her with what she could only describe as approval. Admiration, even. “Very accurate”, he said. “Very much so. (And with great presence of mind as well. Just as it should be.)” 

Once the bowl had been retrieved the adventurers returned to Tenya. The girl was sitting on her porch, awaiting them. “You return”, she said, her gray eyes glittering eagerly. “I trust you bear good news?”

“Here is the b-bowl that was taken from your m-m-mother”, Khalid told her with a kind smile. Perhaps n-now she will rest.”

Tenya eagerly accepted the bowl, and as she rose, she seemed to grow taller. Her young face was as cold and unemotional as the sea when next she spoke. “Mother? That was then. This is now. Umberlee is mother now, and she is well pleased. She will deal with Sonner's group in time, and Talos will no doubt abandon them for their failure. If they are wise, they will never set sail again, for the sea will take their worthless lives. I have no reward for you, but the Sea Queen remembers those that serve her well. You will be paid....in time.”

As the adventurers headed towards the bridge Zaerini wondered if she could have handled things differently. _I don’t regret killing that man. Not really. But Tenya…I wonder where she will go now. Who she will become? I don’t think I could have done anything more to help her, but I wish I could have._

“I fear we may have managed to anger Talos now”, Jaheira said, shaking her head. 

“Maybe. I seem to make a habit of angering evil gods, don’t I?”

Imoen was looking sad. “That poor girl”, she said. “She didn’t even care about her mother anymore. What could have made her become like that?”

“We can’t know that she didn’t care”, the bard answered, thinking about it. “Some people try to protect themselves by pretending to be cold. It’d take a great deal to make somebody not care about his or her own mother, wouldn’t it? I think she was probably just trying to be strong and she thinks that Umberlee will help her with that. It’s a shame we couldn’t do more for her. Growing up the daughter of a priestess of the Bitch Queen can’t have been easy. I guess…she was influenced by that. Same as anybody else is by their parents.” 

“What’s done is done”, Edwin said. “We have our own worries and our own goals to attend to. And we won’t have long to wait now.” He pointed ahead, and Rini felt her heart soar at the sight before her. A large city sprawled below the hill they were currently standing on, hugging the coast and the river both, tall rooftops poking up behind the massive stonewall that surrounded it. There was a wide stone bridge leading across the river towards the nearest city gate, defended by several guard towers. 

“Wyrm’s Crossing”, Jaheira said with a pleased smile. “Though I shall miss being surrounded by nature, it will be good to get on with our business in the city.” 

_Baldur’s Gate_ , Zaerini thought, a wide grin on her face as she drank in the sight of the city. _Watch out, Big Brother. I’m coming to play on your part of the board. And despite what Sonner said, I don’t think I’ll be a pawn for much longer._

The bridge leading into Baldur’s Gate proper was large, with several guard towers overlooking it. Zaerini looked up at them with some awe. True, Durlag’s Tower had been very impressive, but that place was long dead. This was a living city, and she was determined to make the most of her stay, Sarevok or no Sarevok. _There’ll be intrigue aplenty. And gambling, and nice shops, and music, and beds that are actually comfortable. I can’t wait._

Once the party had gone approximately halfway across the bridge, they spotted a Flaming Fist soldier walking towards them, a very serious expression on his face. “Hold!” he said. “I am a member of the Flaming Fist and require that you identify yourselves.”

“We are Paladins of the Most Noble Order of the Radiant Heart”, Edwin said with a small sneer on his face. “Here to spread Honor and Righteousness, and to Smite the Wicked. If you care to make a small donation to our cause, we will make certain it is distributed to the poor and needy.” 

The guard looked hesitant. He took in the stone-faced brunette who looked like she was planning to cut him in two, the nervous looking warrior at her side, the amiably smiling dwarf, the wildly pink-haired girl, the smirking wizard and the mischievously grinning redhead standing close to him. “You…don’t look like paladins”, he hesitantly said. 

“That’s because all our armors are being washed”, Zaerini said. “And I’m afraid we left our Holy Radiance at home. Are you going to let us in or what?” 

“Um…what is your name?”

“Queenie, Princess of Power.” 

“Right. Just let me write that down. What is your quest?” 

“To out-magic Elminster, find myself a really nice inn with a soft bed, write a best-seller or two, direct a successful play, find True Love, become an all-powerful goddess and have a little chat with my brother. Not necessarily in that order of preference.” 

The guard’s eyes turned somewhat glazed. “Right…er…just one final question. What is your favorite color?” 

“What kind of stupid question is that?” Edwin scoffed. “What possible purpose could it serve?”

The guard shrugged apologetically. “Don’t know”, he said. “It’s some sort of new psi-logical ev-al-uation test. Whatever that means. It’s something trendy out of Amn. Lot of foreign muck if you ask me, but the Grand Dukes are all excited about it. So, how about an answer? I can’t let you in without it.” 

“Fine”, Rini said. “Favorite color. I rather like red, actually.” She gave Edwin a sidelong look as she said this. He looked a little embarrassed, and that made her heart beat noticeably faster. 

“Good, good”, the guard said nervously. “Red. That’s good. Nice color.” 

“That’s it?” Imoen asked. 

“Well…I lost the answer sheet. So now I don’t know what the different colors are supposed to mean anymore, but I’ve still got to keep asking the question.” 

_If he’s a typical citizen I’m not sure I want to go to Baldur’s Gate anymore_ , Rini thought. “Can we go in now?” she asked impatiently. 

“Oh, sure.” The guard laughed. “Just you behave and don’t murder any prominent citizens, all right? Ha Ha.”

“Right. Ha Ha.” 

The adventurers had hardly started walking again before another soldier approached. This one was clearly higher in command. This was evident not so much from the badge of rank on his shoulder as from his calm and authoritative eyes and his firm chin. He was in his forties or so, with brown and weather-beaten skin and a lined face. “Greetings travelers”, he said, his keen eyes sweeping over the strangers’ faces. “Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Scar, second in command of the Flaming Fist. Though it is not necessary for you to reveal your names, please answer me this: are you the group that was involved in the fiasco at the Nashkel mines? The ones known as the Heroes of Nashkel, Beregost and Gullykin.”

“We have been called that, yes”, Rini said, trying to ignore the way Edwin was grimacing painfully and muttering something about ‘Heroes’ and ‘public humiliation’. 

Scar nodded. “I’m glad to hear it”, he said. “Rumors of your exploits have raced before you. I have need of people used to dealing with strange and dangerous situations. I can't really put my finger on a single source, but there have been many strange happenings going on within the city. It's been getting harder and harder for me to put trust in someone. I need outsiders to do some investigations, people with no connections to anyone within the city; would you be interested in working for me in such a capacity?”

Rini thought about this. It would give us a valuable contact within the city. That could be helpful. “All right”, she said. “If it pays well and it’s nothing that will interfere with our interests too much, then sure. What do you want us to do?” 

Scar looked relieved. “All right then; what I'm about to tell you must be held in the strictest confidence, do you understand? I need you to begin an investigation of the Seven Suns trading coster. The Seven Suns leadership has been acting strangely of late. They've been selling off valuable assets and neglecting many of their more profitable trading ventures. Considering the importance that the trading coster holds over the economy of the city, the Grand Dukes are noticeably upset. I've gone to talk to the coster's head, Jhasso. He rudely rebuffed me, telling me to mind my own business. I've known Jhasso for many years, and this isn't his usual behavior. I can't start up an official investigation, as there is no real reason for doing so, that's why I need you.”

_Should I tell him about the Iron Throne?_ Zaerini wondered. _No. I don’t know if I can trust him yet_. “Anything else?” she simply asked. 

“I want you to break into the Seven Suns compound and find out what's wrong. Use stealth in your investigations; I don't want this operation to cause too much fuss. The most important person to watch for is Jhasso. Once you've found out as much as possible, report back to me at the Flaming Fist compound. I'll pay you 2000 gold for this favor. The estate is located on the south-west side of town, I wish all of you the best of luck. Remember, once you're done at the Seven Sun's estate, it's imperative that you meet me at the Flaming Fist barracks, which are just west of the Seven Suns.. “ He gave the party a smart salute and walked off. 

“Oh, that will be fun!” Imoen said. “A break-in! Lots of sneakiness and cunning plans! Um…Rini? D’you suppose that we could ask…”

The bard sighed loudly, guessing what her friend was about to say. “Immy, we don’t even know if Adahn is in the city and certainly not where he’s staying. We’re hardly about to simply run into him and trying to find him would be like searching for a needle in a haystack.” 

“Besides”, Edwin said haughtily, “even if we did, I’m sure he’d be preoccupied with his own affairs and unlikely to simply drop everything for your sake. (No, of course not. And I’m certain that…that horrible Picture was simply coincidental…)” 

“Sure he would”, Imoen cheerfully protested. “It’s True Love, remember?” 

“Never mind that now”, Jaheira interjected. “We should move on, and not stand about bickering in the middle of the bridge. Anybody might be watching.” 

“Really?”

“Except for Adahn, Imoen.” 

Zaerini nodded. “Jaheira is right”, she said. “We should move on, and not discuss our plans openly. Let’s go.” 

Well over on the other side on the bridge Zaerini thought that there couldn’t possibly be any more interruptions to keep her from finally getting into the city. She was wrong, however. There, at the very gate, she was accosted by a small gnome with a long white beard and a pair of wire-rimmed glasses perched precariously on his nose. He was wearing a black top-hat, that looked strangely squashed. “Walking alone on the Coastway Road?” he said in an annoyingly piping voice. “How smart is this?”

Edwin gave him a long look. “Annoying magnificently powerful wizards, capable of turning you inside-out with a single curse?” he asked. “How smart is that?” 

The gnome sniffed. “That is the sort of heinously unintelligent, uncultivated and unbelievably unaesthetic reply I would expect from your low-browed and unutterably stupid kind”, he said. 

Zaerini decided that it was probably a good idea to step in before the fireballs started flying. Not that she cared particularly about the gnome, but it wouldn’t be prudent to let Edwin kill him while they were all well in sight of the gate guards. “Who are you?” she coldly asked the gnome. “And what do you want?” 

“I am Quayle”, the gnome proudly proclaimed. “The smartest gnome you ever met or ever will meet. Feel my amazing brain! Go on, touch it!”

“Oh, I’d love to”, Edwin muttered. “Just let me fetch a saw.” 

“Ha! You are obviously envious of my devastatingly superior brain, knowing that I could humiliate you easily in any intellectual contest.” 

Edwin was actually gritting his teeth by now. “Compete with you?” he said. “I wouldn’t lower myself to do that, seeing that your mental faculties clearly would be outclassed by those of a scarecrow – before the hay is stuffed into it. “

“Good gnome”, Yeslick said, clearly anxious to defuse the situation. “Was there something we could do for you?” 

“Isn’t it obvious, you stupid dwarf?” Quayle sighed with exasperation. “I want you to serve as my loyal guards. My amazing brain, your muscles. I’ll make certain you get paid afterwards, with these lovely gems…” He held out a handful of small and glittering objects. 

“Those are all fake”, Imoen said. “They’re just glass. I can tell the difference, I’m not that stupid.” 

“Ah”, Quayle said, his eyes shifting nervously. “Oh. Oh dear. An…unfortunate accident. A traveling adventurer such as myself, wild and free of spirit, unfettered by ties to clan or kin, cannot be expected to keep track of every little thing…” 

“Your clan”, Rini said. “Do they live around these parts?” 

“Why, no! Far from it. When they encouraged me to set out on this epic journey to expand my vast intellect even more, they thought I should go far away from them, so as to really widen my horizons.” 

“I should have guessed as much”, the bard said with an ominous smile. “Then I don’t think they’ll mind when I do this.” She quickly yanked the gnome’s top-hat down over his head, ripping the top off and fettering his arms to his sides. “Oh, look!” she brightly said. “Seems your head is a little too big for your hat. What a shame.” 

As the adventurers walked off, laughing among themselves at the irritating gnome’s plight, they could hear him whining loudly behind them. “Come on, you grunts! Let me out! You can’t leave me like this!” 

“Why ever not?” Edwin asked. “With your ‘amazing brain’ you should certainly be able to think yourself out of your predicament. Think of it as a challenge… (I would have preferred one involving him, a pit of cobras and a blindfold, but one can’t have everything.)

Finally, Baldur’s Gate. Zaerini actually took a couple of dance steps as she passed through the city gate. Her feeling of euphoria quickly crashed to the ground however, at the sound of the voice that immediately greeted her. It was an old and penetrating voice, and it sounded immensely pleased with itself. “Ah, Zaerini!” it said. “Good day to thee, young one!” 

The bard turned around, dreading what she was about to see. Sure enough, there was the puffing pipe, the bobbing white beard, the self-satisfied old face and the grotesque and enormously pointy hat. _Elminster_ , she thought. _Such fun. If it didn’t sound so paranoid, I’d swear he was following me around because he gets some sort of perverted kicks out of it…_

-*-

Edwin Odesseiron had hated, reviled and despised more than one person in his life. But in this particular moment all of that collected negative feeling seemed to have focused on just one single, utterly insufferable individual. If looks could kill, then Elminster the Sage would have spontaneously combusted already. Edwin glared at the elderly wizard, taking in each detail, painstakingly committing them to memory in order to be able to better nurse his grudge.

The stupid white beard. _Is that a chicken bone sticking out of it? How disgusting. Just because a wizard is on the road, that’s no reason to neglect proper grooming._

The stupid, stupid ever-smoking pipe. _Oh, what I wouldn’t give to be able to ram that down his esophagus and give him the ulcer of a lifetime…or perhaps up his nose and into what passes for his brain._

The stupid, stupid, stupid pointy hat. _Such a ridiculous garment. I mean, honestly, I was six the last time I genuinely wanted to wear something like that. The man has no fashion sense whatsoever. And who ever gave him the right to wear red robes anyway?_

The stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid smug smile on the old face, and the eyes twinkling with amused appreciation as the old wizard watched the half-elf he was currently addressing. _Quit staring at her like that, you old letch, or I’ll poke your defiling eyes out and feed them to you on the end of a pointy stick. You have no right to look at her like that. And don’t think I haven’t heard about you and your habits where females are concerned. If not for divine intervention you’d probably long ago have succumbed to one of those diseases that make your private parts turn black and fall off, and that have ‘amusing’ names like ‘The Wobblies’ or ‘Kiss Mr Friendly Goodbye’. Urgh. Nasty mental image, that. But anyway, that old coot had better be respectful to her or that beard will go up in flames! Nobody insults her but me._

Zaerini didn’t seem to be particularly happy to see Elminster either, something that made Edwin immensely relieved. She had placed her hands on her hips and was currently giving the old wizard a rather cold stare. This didn’t seem to faze Elminster however. “A fortunate meeting this”, he was saying. “What a marvelous happenstance that we should again cross paths, especially in such a grand city as this. Ahh, I see by thine eyes that thou've no time for my wry banter. 'Tis true, our meeting was no accident, though I do honestly take pleasure in seeing thee again.” _He’s got no business smiling at her like that, as if he were somehow entitled._

“Really”, the bard said, and her voice was dangerously pleasant. “How flattering. You do seem to turn up again and again, despite the fact that I’ve told you I have no use for you or your cryptic so-called ‘advice’. What next? Will you be hiding under my bed? Peering in through my windows?”

Elminster gave a jolly good chuckle at this, and the condescending sound of it made red mist start rising in Edwin’s head. “I am not some old letch that follows thee around for the good of mine eyes, upstart”, Elminster said. “In fact, I…”

Edwin couldn’t contain himself any longer. “Oh no?” he asked, putting his best sarcastic edge into his voice. “And I suppose the reason that your eyes remain so firmly fixed anywhere but on her face must be that you’re checking to see she’s carrying no concealed weapons. (If he asks to do a full body search, I will return the favor, and that stupid pointy hat will feature heavily in my plans.) Or are you simply too senile to remember your manners?” He was dimly aware of Imoen and Khalid trying to pull him back by his arms, but he didn’t really care. 

Elminster chuckled again. “Temperamental, art thou not, young one?” he said. Then he ignored the Red Wizard and spoke to the bard again. “Perhaps it is that I have been a touch too mothering”, he said. “I think this can be excused, however, when compared to the zeal with which thy true parentage pursues thee. I trust thou dost suspect that thou art not ‘normal.’”

_She’s a damn sight more ‘normal’ than you, you pointy-hatted, ancient, meddling old freak!_

Zaerini replied before Edwin had the time to say what was on his mind, however. “I think I can see what’s coming”, she said. “This would be the point where you make some dreadfully obscure remark about how my Evil is ‘bred in the bone’ and how I must maintain constant vigilance against it. And how I will have to face it, and how I should be on guard. Never once contributing any actually useful information of course. Well, I’ve got news for you. I already know exactly who my sire was, and who my brother is, no thanks to you. And I will deal with them my own way, in my own time, and preferably without you popping by to offer commentary on my performance. Now, kindly just bugger off and leave me alone!” 

Elminster didn’t answer immediately, and Edwin found the look on his face extremely worrying. _He’s looking at her as if…as if she is somehow his property. Or a dangerous animal. Something that needs to be controlled._

“Thou art being most discourteous”, the old wizard said, his eyes no longer twinkling. “It comes as no great surprise, sad as it is. Whether thou likest to believe it or not, there is bad blood in thee. I will not let that blood get the upper hand. I owe my old friend Gorion that, and thee as well.” 

“Is that so?” Edwin snarled. “You threaten to kill her if she doesn’t conform to your wishes – as a favor to her?”

Jaheira cleared her throat, obviously worried by the increasing hostility in the air. “Perhaps we had better leave right now”, she said. Both the bard and the wizards ignored her. 

Elminster was directing the full force of an icy glare at Edwin by now. “Thou wilt not interfere with this matter further, boy”, he said. “Thou art in possession of some small measure of talent, do not make me chastise thee for thy impudence.”

Edwin was so angry by now that he was almost forgetting to breathe. “You. Dare. Call. Me. That.” He hissed out the words, trying to think of some possible way in which he could be ensured to live through a magical battle with the older wizard. He hadn’t come up with anything foolproof yet, but he was frankly too angry to care. _And besides, I’m sure I could take him with my hands tied behind my back, my mouth gagged and with me being tied naked to an anthill. Of course, I could. If only I knew the Time Stop spell…_ “You have no right to call me that, it is not for you. And neither is she. ‘Interfere’ with her again and I’ll make you wish you’d remained Mystra’s pleasure boy. (Speaking of that, unlike you I gained my ‘small measure of talent’ the hard way, not by hanging out with some sadly infatuated goddess with bad taste in men.)” 

By now Elminster’s face was turning a dark purple, creating an unsettling contrast against his white beard. “You…will…pay…”

“Shut up, Grandpa”, Zaerini said, stepping between the two wizards. “If you so much as lay a finger on him, I’ll string you up with your own unwashed beard.” 

Jaheira was quite white, and she was moaning quietly. Yeslick and Khalid looked as if they wanted to sink through the ground. Imoen was looking worried, but that didn’t stop her from tapping a dagger casually against the palm of her hand, in a manner designed to intimidate, but contradicted by her wildly pink hair. “Sorry, big E”, she said. “I can’t let you hurt my friends.” 

Elminster frowned briefly at her, and then he turned his attention to Zaerini again. Something seemed to pass briefly between them, but whatever it was it left him unsatisfied. His face grim and stony he started slowly chanting a spell. 

There was no time to lose. To be honest Edwin knew he hadn’t got a single spell memorized that could hope to harm the elderly wizard. But he did have something else. A certain scroll, the one he had found hidden in Durlag’s Tower. If his guesses about its purpose were correct, it should be just the thing. And much as he regretted having to use it up, it really couldn’t be helped. As surreptitiously as he could, Edwin pulled the scroll out, keeping it hidden from Elminster’s line of sight. Then he started casting it, as quickly as he dared, hoping to be able to outpace his opponent. _I bet he’s not as dangerous as his reputation says_ , he thought. _And even if he is, that doesn’t mean he’s invulnerable. Nobody is, that’s what Teacher Dekaras always says._

Edwin could feel sweat trickling down his face as he finished the spell, hoping for the best. For a few seconds nothing happened, and Elminster, a satisfied smile on his face, went on with the casting of something that sounded complicated and incredibly nasty. _Please let it work. Please, please, please…_ And then there was a Sound. A faint and distant Sound, from somewhere far overhead. It was the whistling Sound of some large object rapidly approaching the ground, coupled with the loud and protesting Sound of said object as it realized where it was heading. Directly towards the ground, that was.

Elminster’s casting broke off. He craned his neck backwards to see what was happening. A faintly stunned expression spread across his face. “By Mystra’s Massive Mammaries…” he whispered in an almost inaudible voice. 

WHAM! A very large and very unfortunate black-and-white cow made an ungraceful crash-landing on top of Elminster’s pointy hat, knocking him flat on the ground. The poor beast gave a last soulful and accusing ‘Mooh’ in Edwin’s direction, and then promptly expired. As for Elminster, the one thing that could be seen of him were his legs sticking out from under the cow, rather unattractively dressed in striped socks and red slippers. They weren’t moving. 

There was a moment of deep silence. 

“So that’s what a ‘Cow Kill’ spell does”, Edwin said. His voice sounded unnaturally brittle to his own ears. “How very interesting.” 

“Is…is he dead?” Imoen asked, her voice a terrified whisper. 

Jaheira carefully made her way over to the cow, her legs noticeably shaking. “He is not”, she said after having examined what could be seen of the fallen wizard. “I would not suggest lingering here for much longer. He will not be happy when he wakes up.” 

“I agree”, Zaerini said fervently. “Let’s get out of here right now.” 

Khalid moaned quietly. “We’re g-going to die”, he said in a hollow voice. “We’re a-all going to die…”

“Oh, come on”, Imoen said. “It may not be that bad. Maybe we can explain…” The legs beneath the cow twitched faintly, and she broke off in the middle of a sentence. “Holy cow. Maybe not.” 

As the party rapidly removed themselves from the scene, Edwin looked across his shoulder to see a small girl steal the slippers off Elminster’s feet. Somehow that seemed strangely appropriate. Then he forgot all about it as he found himself walking right next to Zaerini. The bard caught hold of his arm, and he could swear he felt his skin burning where her fingers touched him. She was smiling brightly at him, and it felt as if her golden eyes were staring straight into his very soul.

“That was a very generous thing you just did, Eddie”, she said, and Edwin felt the remnant of his rational thoughts scatter entirely as her smile widened a little more. She was close enough that he could smell her now, something light and spicy, and by now they were walking close enough that their hips touched briefly. _Mnrrff…_ was all the thought Edwin’s stunned mind could produce.

“Huh?” he said, still staring into the half-elf’s eyes, and then instantly wanted to hit himself over the head with a club. _Oh very smooth, Edwin. Do you want her to think you a lack-witted oaf?_

Zaerini didn’t seem to mind, however. “I know how much you treasured that scroll”, she said. “I’ve never seen anything like it, and we’ll probably never find one again. And yet you gave it up for my sake. I think that’s a beautiful thing to do.” 

“Oh”, Edwin rambled on, almost tripping over his own words. “Well. Of course I had to do it, I couldn’t very well let that old coot get away with offending you…that is…with thinking that his divine connections make him invulnerable…that is…what I mean to say is…er…I…”

“And you leapt to my defense, risking your own life for my sake.” 

“Um…yes, well…I…do have a contract to maintain after all and…” At this point Edwin’s brain entirely gave up on trying to invent excuses and he heard his mouth speaking on its own accord. “And I couldn’t bear the thought of seeing you hurt or in any way mistreated.” 

The bard looked strangely shy when next she spoke, and her voice was filled with warmth. “Likewise,” she said. “I was ready to fight him barehanded to keep him from doing something nasty to you.” She reached up towards the wizard, and when she whispered into his ear her lips lightly brushed his skin, making him feel as if his head was about to suddenly implode. “Seeing a cow pound Elminster into the ground is one of the loveliest sights I’ve ever seen, and what you did was very sweet. I’ll never forget it, ever.”

“Mmrxzzpryft…” Edwin managed. His head seemed to have disconnected from his body entirely and was floating about somewhere in the clouds, and he didn’t mind one bit. Besides, judging by the radiant way the redhead next to him kept smiling at him, she didn’t seem to have too much trouble understanding his general sentiment.


	49. Imoen Advancing

**In The Cards 49 – Imoen Advancing**

_When arriving in a new town, it nearly always pays off to check in at the local Guild, at least if you’re planning to stay a while. Such contacts can prove invaluable, as long as you manage to get a favorable reputation with the locals. Of course, it also pays off to make certain that nobody else is following you about and giving you a different reputation altogether. Particularly if said reputation involves very forthright imagery._

_Excerpt from ‘Interview With An Assassin’_

Imoen was practically bubbling with excitement. Once she had calmed herself after the Elminster incident her normally buoyant temper had reasserted itself. _I’m sure he’ll forgive us once he has the time to calm down. And until then we’ll just have to avoid him._

The party had taken rooms at a nearby inn, the Elfsong Tavern. Imoen absolutely loved the place. It was dark and mysterious, with lots of shadowy figures hiding in the corners, and a general air of intrigue. Once they’d settled into their rooms, they’d each had things to do. Zaerini and Edwin had walked off to investigate a nearby scroll shop, taking as much money as they could easily carry with them, and both of them looking very much like little children on Solstice Eve. Khalid and Yeslick had gone to get new supplies, and to see about finding a proper map of the city. Jaheira kept muttering quietly to herself about ‘assaulting Elminster’ and ‘suicidal infants’ and had expressed an urgent need to pray for the continued survival of the party. Despite her requests, nobody had been interested in joining her. 

That left Imoen, and she had promptly decided to investigate the immediate streets around the inn. So far it had been very satisfying. _All these tall buildings…they almost make me dizzy. And all these people!_ She’d amused herself with picking a few pockets, as well as snatching some apples and candy off a passing vendor’s cart. _Yep, this is the life. Rogues are made for the Big City, not for tromping around in forests or dungeons. Oh, there’s a pretty ring…got it. Aw, nuts. Just glass…you can’t trust anybody these days, not even people who look like wealthy merchants._

Imoen jumped on top of a merrily tinkling fountain and balanced along the edge, now and then standing on one leg in order to better exercise her sense of balance. She was getting slowly but steadily better, she knew that. _Now all I need is to find myself a proper Thieves Guild and I’ll really be set. And of course a Thieves Guild would also be an excellent place to start looking for a certain somebody. She blissfully patted That Picture, lovingly tucked into one of her pockets. Hm, there’s an idea…_

“’scuse me, ma’am!” Imoen cheerfully asked a matronly woman standing on her porch. The woman looked immensely tired, perhaps not surprising, since five children, all of them squabbling and runny-nosed, were tugging at her skirts while she was trying to sweep her doorstep. From inside the house one could hear a male voice calling out ‘Ellie, where’s my beer?’

“Excuse me, ma’am”, Imoen said again, holding up That Picture. “Have you seen him around here by any chance?” 

The woman stared mutely at That Picture for about a minute. “No”, she eventually said, not taking her eyes off it. “But if you do find him, would you mind sending him over this way, dear? I could do with a trade-up.”

“Sorry”, Imoen said. “He’s my boyfriend, you see. But thanks for your time!” A few more attempts yielded similarly unsatisfactory results. _Oh, poo. I’m probably asking in the wrong place. I really need to be asking around in a Thieves Guild of course. As long as I can find one._

“Pssst!” hissed a voice from out of a narrow alley. Imoen turned to see a skinny young man, a little older than her, and wearing clothes of dark gray and brown that more or less blended into the shadows. “'Ere, stop a moment”, he said. “I've got a word or two ye need to hear.”

“Hello”, Imoen said. “I’m Imoen. Who are you?” 

“Er...my name’s Niklos. But that’s not important.” The young man tried to adopt a sinister look, but merely managed to look slightly cross-eyed. “Yer one o’ those mercenaries came into town earlier today, ain’t ya? Leas’ tha’s the word on the street. And I seen ya help yerself to some easy pickin’s earlier. If yer interested, then my boss would like a word with ya. He’s in the market for an outsider for a job or two. One who ain’t afraid to get his or her fingers a little dirty if ya know what I mean. He don't ask fer free though, and here be 50 gold just to hear him out.”

_A Thieves Guild contact! This is great. And Rini would love it if I could get in there; I bet they know all sorts of things about what’s going on in the city_. “Sure”, Imoen said. “I’ll come hear what he wants.”

“Good”, Niklos said, pointing at a narrow and rather dirty house a distance down the street. “It’s over there. This week’s password is ‘Bodhi’.” He paused. “No, wait. That was last week. This week it’s ‘Killer Bunny’. 

_Gee. Whoever made that up must have been either roaring drunk or really tired_. “All right”, Imoen said. “See ya around.” She made her way to the anonymous house and walked up the stairs. There was nothing about the place that suggested anything out of the ordinary. Nothing, that is, until Imoen pulled the door open and was faced with a very large half-orc staring down at her with a perpetual snarl on his face. “Password?” he growled.

“Um…’Killer Bunny’?”

“Right. You can go in now.” 

_Yes! I’m in!_ Imoen passed through another door and then looked about herself with great interest. She was in a long low room, rather dark and grimy. Some chairs and tables stood here and there in the corners, and people were sitting talking to each other quietly, while others drifted about the room in small groups or lounged along the walls. In one corner she could spot a few young thieves taking turns practicing pick pocketing skills on a dummy weighted down with a large number of small bells. Now and then one of the thieves would be too clumsy, a bell would ring, and he would let one of the others take over. In another spot there was a dark-skinned young woman at a small stand, and some sort of commerce seemed to be going on. _Probably a fence. But now to find this ‘Ravenscar’ person_. Imoen scanned the crowd, hoping to catch sight of a familiar face. _Aw, no sign of Adahn. Too bad. Still, he’s bound to pop in here sooner or later._

Secure in this happy thought, Imoen walked over to see what items the young woman, whose name turned out to be ‘Black Lily’, was offering. Having selected a nice new set of lock picks, and a superior kit for disarming traps, she once again displayed That Picture and made her inquiry. 

“Oh my”, Black Lily said, an amused smile on her face. “How lovely. Yes, I’ve seen that one about. Not…in quite that position unfortunately, but I’ve seen him.”

“You have! Oh, that’s wonderful! Where? When? What was he up to? What did he say? Did he mention me? Does he miss me a lot?” 

“Oh, he last came by maybe ten days or so ago, that I know of. Bought a few odds and ends, but I couldn’t say what his business was. He doesn’t strike me as the type to enjoy small talk. And no, he made no mention of you.”

“Oh.” Imoen’s face fell a little. “Well, I guess he wouldn’t. Like you said, he doesn’t really do small talk.” Her face brightened again. “Thanks for your help. If you see him again, can you please let him know I’m looking for him?”

“Of course.” Black Lily smiled again. “Once you do catch him, how about splitting the winnings?” 

Imoen continued circling the room, passing by a scruffy-looking plain-faced man who was actually shorter than she was. He was apparently telling a story to a couple of fellow thieves, both of who were laughing heartily. “So I's at daggers drawing with him, an he drops the swag an runs!” the man said, chuckling. “Me stomach's in cupboard till season end, gold wise.” Then he turned his head to see Imoen, and a shrewd glint leaped into his eyes. “Ere now, I know of you. New sneaksmen ye be, though I canna see no need. Alatos need but look at home fer to find a dab at thievery. Mahaps we be testing yer talent, 'for ye rank riders bungle the score. Ye up to me task?”

Imoen had a basic understanding of what the man was trying to say, and for a moment she wondered whether she ought to answer the same way. She wasn’t sure she could pull it off without giggling though. “I could steal your back teeth without you feeling a thing”, she boasted. “Sure, I’m up to it. Er…what do you want me to do anyway?”

The man grinned, revealing that said back teeth were in a terrible state of all-out rot. “Good”, he said. “We'll spy yer talent soon enough. Ye but need to keep an eye this first night. I and Rededge will command the taking. The mark be a noble house, aside the Splurging Sturgeon. Gold to split thrice amongst, followed soon by new mark if ye please. Up to the deed?”

_Keeping watch shouldn’t be a problem,_ Imoen thought. _And it’ll get me in properly with these thieves, I’m sure_. “I’ll do it”, she said in her firmest voice. 

The thief nodded, looking pleased. “There's the larcenous fire burnin'! We meet at dusk astride the Sturgeon, and bring only yerself in darks. Yer group will naught but get the watch nervous. I’m Narlen Darkwalk, by the way. There’ll be good profit in this, to be sure.” He drifted away out the door, leaving Imoen behind. _A real burglary_ , the pink-haired girl thought with great excitement. _I can’t wait to tell Adahn about this, I’ll make sure to impress him with my stealth and cunning and the way I…er…keep watch. And after this I’m sure I’ll move on to bigger and better things._

Satisfied with this the pink-haired girl started asking around for Alatos ‘Ravenscar’, and was eventually shown into a backroom. The guild leader turned out to be a blond man in his forties, with a long face and unreadable eyes. A wizard, a quiet man who said little but listened intently to everything that was said, accompanied him. It turned out that the wizard was no less than a mage from the mysterious land of Halruua, where magic was about as common as sand or rocks, and in town on a very particular errand. Apparently, a local mage by the name of Shandalar had discovered the spell that kept the Halruuan skyships afloat in the air, and was preparing to sell it to one of the Grand Dukes of Baldur’s Gate. The Halruuans naturally wanted to keep their secret for themselves and wanted the rare spell components necessary to be removed from Shandalar’s possession. Currently the wizard’s three daughters, who were staying at the estate of a local nobleman, awaiting the transaction, were keeping them. The Halruuan was prepared to pay well for their return. Unfortunately, most of ‘Ravenscar’s’ really good burglars had been swept up by a recent wave of arrests made by the Flaming Fist. 

Now this task was a bit more challenging than Narlen’s, but it meant getting the favor of the very head of the Thieves Guild. “How long do I have to do this?” Imoen asked. 

“Ten days”, Alatos ‘Ravenscar’ said. “That’s when the buy will take place. You’ll get paid as much as you can carry, you know. Of course, I’ll get even more, having negotiated the deal, but you won’t regret it.” 

“Right”, Imoen said, trying to strike an impressive and mysterious pose, and wishing that she could look a little more intimidating. “I’ll do it.” _A break-in in the home of a powerful wizard. If that doesn’t impress Adahn I don’t know what will._

Once Imoen left the Guild, the sun was beginning to set, and once she had found the Splurging Sturgeon it was well and truly dark. Narlen Darkwalk awaited her and was pleased to see her turn up. “Now we're up to the business!” the thief said, once he had guided Imoen to a wealthy-looking house a few streets away from the inn. “Keep to the shadows and the watch will be blind to our sneak. You will spy the road while Rededge an I plunder within. Be on yer cautions and yell the warnin' if ye see the soldierman. I'd no fight 'em if I was you, just call the call and make for the dark. If they give chase, ye fade to black an keep quiet. Never known a guard to spot a thief scared to hiding. Stand from here while we two are off and in. We'll be back before the gold knows it's ours.” Not having drawn breath at all during these instructions, the thief fiddled with the lock on the door for a moment and disappeared inside. 

“Um…all right”, Imoen faintly said, feeling a little stunned. The time seemed to drag by as she watched and waited, waited and watched. She hoped the thieves hadn’t decided to fall asleep inside the house or something. _Or slip out a backdoor and leave me here. Nah, they wouldn’t do that. Would they?_

The street was very dark by now, but when the soldier turned up Imoen still had no trouble spotting him. Dressed in the armor of the Flaming Fist, he clomped noisily down the street, sounding like a whole ironworks out for a walk. Imoen had planned to keep hidden and hope that he’d bypass her and her fellow thieves entirely, but unfortunately her hood caught on an old nail sticking out of the wall, displaying her vividly pink hair. “You there!” the soldier called out. “What are you doing, sneaking about like that!” 

_Aw, nuts and nutmash. Nothing to do but to run for it_. “Eeeee!” Imoen screamed at the top of her voice. “Soldiers! I’m so badly scared of soldiers! I have to RUN!” Then she sprinted off down the street, the Flaming Fist hot on her heels. Unfortunately, her yell had alerted not only her fellow thieves, but also a whole patrol of Flaming Fist, and now all of them were coming after her. Imoen had a dreadful suspicion that they were doubling up on her and about to cut her path off. _I bet this sort of thing never happens to Adahn. What can I do?_ And then she spotted a convenient drainpipe, and a ledge above it leading onto a slanting rooftop. That could work. Not having the luxury of stopping to think, the young thief scrambled up the building, her fingers and lungs aching with the exertion as she pulled herself onto the roof. There were arrows whistling through the air around her now. _Gotta get out of here fast!_ The next rooftop wasn’t all that far off. She could make it. Probably. 

Wishing that she dared close her eyes, Imoen ran as fast as she could towards the edge of the roof, and then jumped. _I’m gonna die, I’m gonna die, I’m gonna die…_

As it happened, she didn’t die. She even reached the second rooftop. Unfortunately, this second rooftop was of a less sturdy nature than the first one. Imoen tried to grab hold of something, but it was too late. The impact of her landing made bricks and wood crack and splinter beneath her feet, and with a scream of terror she went straight through the roof. 

THUD. Imoen landed on something reasonably soft, considering herself very fortunate that she didn’t seem to have broken anything important. Well, apart from that roof, of course. But she seemed to be in one piece. Now to find out where she was. She seemed to be inside a small and rather dingy bedroom, sparsely furnished. There were a couple of chairs, a rickety table, a cracked mirror on the wall. Finally, there was a somewhat lumpy bed that she was currently lying on. And then she saw the room’s second inhabitant and her heart tried to flutter straight out of her chest with excitement and joy. 

He was standing on the other side of the room, and had apparently just been in the process of getting either dressed or undressed, treating Imoen to a mouthwatering display of bare chest, flat and hard, and with just the right amount of muscles. _Yummmmm…_ There was the tiniest look of shock on his sharp face, and his black eyes were wary, but very focused. It seemed he’d had the time to grab a weapon, for he was standing with his arm half-raised, the faint moonlight in the room glinting off the throwing dagger in his right hand. _I love that pose…well, apart from the ‘deadly threat’ part. But it makes him look extra handsome. And he’s wearing those divinely snug black leather pants! Would you just look at those hips! And that…_

Adahn blinked and seemed to recognize her. “What”, he said in a very level voice, “are you doing in my bed? And what did you do to my roof?” 

Imoen grinned, feeling herself blush brightly. “Um…hi there, Adahn!” she beamed. “I…just thought I’d drop by to see ya, that’s all.” Then she promptly fainted, still with a wide smile on her face. 

Imoen’s eyes slowly fluttered open. As soon as they did she almost fainted again. _But at least I’m already lying down, so that’s all right. On a bed. On his bed. Ooooh…_

Adahn was standing next to the bed, and he was giving her a rather disapproving look, not that Imoen noticed. _Aw, he’s got dressed again. What a shame. But he’s hunky anyway. Perhaps if I pretend to be magically asleep, he’ll try to kiss me awake? Let’s try some heavy pouting. Pout, pout, pout, pout…_

“Would you please stop that?” the older rogue coolly said. “Since I didn’t exactly invite you in, I would appreciate it if you could at least refrain from grimacing at me. I may not have been expecting company, but I hardly think I’m that disgusting a sight.”

_Pout, pout, po…what?_ “I wasn’t!” Imoen exclaimed, sitting bolt upright in the bed. “And you aren’t! In fact, I think…” 

“Never mind”, Adahn said. “Please explain to me exactly what you’re doing here. The very reason I moved out from the Elfsong and into this ratty place was so that I wouldn’t be exposed to this kind of disturbance.” 

“Oh! Right. Well, I was working on this dangerous caper, see.” Imoen thought about how she best could dress up the truth so as to impress the mysterious rogue in front of her. 

“Indeed. And what kind of ‘caper’ would this be?”

“Er…it was…er...“ _Come on, Imoen, think! Make it sound good_. “I…I…I was sneaking into the Iron Throne compound to steal Sarevok’s secret plans and leave a note with an insulting verse on behind! Yep. That’s exactly what I was doing.” 

A very skilled observer might have been able to see the black-clad man’s mouth twitch slightly with hidden amusement. “Is that so?” he asked. “How ambitious of you. Wish I had thought of it myself. And just what went wrong?” 

“Well, I’d just managed to put my hands on Sarevok’s secret evil diary, containing all his secret evil plans”, Imoen said, warming to her story. “But then he suddenly walked into the room, and I had to flee! I jumped onto the chandelier hanging from the ceiling, and swung across the room, knocking him out! Then I yelled ‘Sod off, Metalhead!’ and scampered.” 

“That does sound like a prudent course of action. Impressive. Most impressive. Perhaps you would care to show me this ‘secret evil diary’?” 

Imoen hoped she wasn’t sweating visibly. She was getting the highly uncomfortable feeling that her companion was seeing straight through her. “Um…see…as I was running across the courtyard an evil demon swooped down and swiped it right out of my hands! Can you believe that?”

Adahn raised an eyebrow. “Possibly”, he said in a very dry voice. “If I practiced diligently for a decade or so. Still, it was a very…entertaining…story.” Then he cocked his head to one side, listening intently to something. “Now stay put”, he murmured. “More company is heading this way.” 

Imoen could have sworn she’d been looking straight at her fellow rogue the whole time. He shouldn’t have been able to disappear. And yet, somehow…he wasn’t there anymore. There were just the shadows. Imoen nervously bit her lip and readied her sword. And then the door suddenly splintered before the force of a savage kick, as a patrol of five Flaming Fist burst into the room. 

No matter how large a group of armed people you are a member of, there’s a limit on how many can fit through a door at a time. That is why it’s never a good idea to be the first one through. You never know what might be waiting on the other side. In this particular case, the first soldier screamed with agonizing pain as he was sprayed in the face with a generous burst of strong acid from the trap that had been set just inside the door. Flesh ran and melted, and the screams turned bubbling and crazy before a hard blow to the man’s head finished him off for good.

The first soldier’s four companions were naturally more than a little unnerved by this, but they were too dutiful to turn and run, which would undoubtedly have been the wiser course. Number two went sprawling on his back as he was kicked hard in the chest, and number three sagged dying to the ground in a widening pool of blood after a sharp blade found its way into his left armpit and in between the chinks in his armor. 

Imoen held her sword firmly, circling around to get closer to the remaining enemies, all the while keeping an admiring eye on her companion. _Wow. He moves like…like a ghost. Or a black panther. Or a…_

“Move your feet, girl!” Adahn snapped without turning his head, and Imoen hastily complied, dodging a sword that nearly took one of her ears off. Adahn was facing off against the fourth soldier now, and the man was obviously very frustrated that he couldn’t seem to hit his more lightly armored companion. The rogue simply kept dodging out of the way with a small smirk on his face, goading the Flaming Fist into making ever more reckless moves. Finally, he dipped low to the ground, and the Flaming Fist’s sword went wide over his head. Instead it struck off the head of the last soldier, the one who had been temporarily knocked down and who had just groggily got to his feet again. Imoen didn’t doubt that her companion had planned this little’ accident’. 

_Hey!_ the pink-haired girl thought. _I’ve gotta help, it’s almost over and I haven’t had the time to do a thing!_ She eagerly snatched up one of the rickety chairs off the floor, and then proceeded to make it splinter on the last Flaming Fist’s helmet. While it wasn’t enough to kill him, it did knock him out. Adahn then calmly pulled the man’s helmet off. “You may not want to watch this”, he warned Imoen. “It won’t be pretty.” 

_No. No, I can handle this. I can. I’m not some weak little girl anymore – if I ever was. This has to be done_. “Go ahead”, Imoen croaked. “I can take it.” 

Adahn raised an eyebrow at her strained voice, but he made no comment. The last soldier died quickly and silently. 

“Wow…” Imoen whispered. “You killed them all…” 

The older rogue simply shrugged. “It was necessary”, he said. “They may have followed you home, but I didn’t think it would be prudent to let you keep them.”

“Aren’t you worried the Fist will come after you though?”

“What for? These men’s superiors don’t know about this. Still, I suppose I shall have to move – again.” Adahn sighed briefly. “And I had just got used to this place. But it cannot be helped. Not that I mind a bad reputation as such, but right now it would be too awkward.” Then he paused, and he looked as if he had suddenly thought of something. “On the other hand, maybe this meeting will do us both some good. Hold on a moment. I have something for you.” 

_A present! For me! Oh, I wonder what it is? Flowers? Candy? Jewels? Or maybe a…_ “A book?” Imoen said, sounding a little doubtful. 

“Not just any book. Go on, open it.” 

Imoen did, and then she stared at the title page in disbelief. “The…the diary of Sarevok?” she whispered. 

Adahn smirked. “Yes. As of now, the ‘Evil Demon’ is putting it back in your hands. Aren’t you a lucky girl?”

“But…but…how?”

“Never mind how. I happened to find it, which is all you need to know. Your friend Zaerini would be interested in its contents I think, and I have finished with it anyway.” The rogue took a look out the window, making certain that the street was empty. “I think we should leave now. And then perhaps you can tell me how you really ended up in here.” 

A short while later the two rogues were stealthily making their way through the dark streets. “And then I fell through the roof”, Imoen finished her story, feeling very embarrassed. Her companion didn’t laugh at her though. 

“Such things can happen”, he simply said. “You need to be prepared for it, then you’ll be more likely to be able to avoid the actual fall. But you did what you set out to do, and that is what really matters. No doubt your contact within the Guild will be pleased. You should seek him out first thing tomorrow.”

“Why not tonight?”

“Because it’s late. Your friends are certain to be worried about you.”

“Oh. Yeah. I suppose you’re right.” 

“Naturally. I tend to be. I’ll walk you back to your inn, so you won’t get into any more trouble.” It was difficult to tell in all the surrounding shadows, but Imoen thought her companion looked amused. “I don’t intend for you to break the roof of my next dwelling, thank you very much.” 

_He cares about my safety! He really does! Ooohh…_

Imoen spent most of the walk back towards the Elfsong in a sort of pink daze, absorbed in her study of her companion’s every feature. _I could just look at him for hours and hours…and listen to him talk of course. Hm, he’s not saying very much right now though. He’s probably tired or something. Oh, are we here already?_

Indeed they were standing outside the Elfsong. “This is it”, Adahn said. “I trust you can find the front door on your own. Good night.” 

_Oh no you don’t. Not without kissing me good night first._ “Wait!” Imoen almost screamed, almost throwing herself into the older rogue’s arms, incidentally backing him up against a wall. “Don’t go yet!” _Yum. Close enough to touch now. I’m not drooling, am I?_

“Now what?” Adahn said, sounding rather annoyed. “Did you forget something?”

“Um…not really. I…I think I’ve got something in my eye. Can you check?”

“Do I look like a healer to you?” He snorted quietly so himself as if at some private joke. “Rather the opposite, I should think”, he murmured in an almost inaudible voice. “You’d be better off asking that druid of yours.”

_No I wouldn’t! Come on, you must know what I’m talking about. But maybe…maybe you want me to be more bold and forthright. Yeah, that’s probably it. You don’t want fluttery maidens do you, you want somebody beautiful and dangerous. Sort of like ‘Passionata the Pirate Princess’, when she simply tears off the clothes of the noble Captain Bloodbath and turns up the heat… No. Can’t do that in the middle of the street. And then there was Shallandra the Sorceress, she simply used enchantment spells. Wonder if I could get Rini or Edwin to help me out? No, better not. I’m not sure they’d understand._

“Look”, Adahn said with an impatient sigh. “It may come as a surprise to you, but I actually have other functions to fill apart from being an escort service. So, if there was nothing else…” 

“Wait! There…there is.” _Here goes nothing, Imoen. It’s now or never. Winner takes it all_. “I…I really have to show you something. Once you see it, you’ll understand.” Her heart beating rapidly, her hands trembling with excitement, Imoen hauled out That Picture and thrust it into Adahn’s hands. 

And then, at exactly that moment, the pink-haired thief was horrified to see her best friend come walking out of the Elfsong tavern, Edwin close behind her. “Immy!” the redheaded bard exclaimed, her voice sounding very loud to Imoen’s ears. “Where have you been? We were afraid something had happened to you.” 

_Darn. Something would have happened if only I could have had a couple more minutes_. “No, I’m fine”, she said, trying to sound as cheerful as usual. “Adahn walked me home. He was just leaving, actually.”

“Oh, was he?” Edwin said. He sounded extremely disapproving. “It doesn’t look like it. (I can’t believe it. We’ve been here, what, ten hours or so? And she’s already all over him!)” 

Adahn drew himself up to his full height and gave the Red Wizard an icy look that made him shrink and wither like a flower under a winter storm. Imoen could almost feel the wind racing across the frosty tundra, howling like a pack of wolves. “How interesting”, Adahn said. “I can’t recall when I became accountable to you. It must have slipped my mind. Unfortunate, such would have been a very memorable occasion.” He frowned. “And not that it is any of your business, but I was leaving. As soon as I take a look at this and find out what all the fuss is about.” He waved That Picture, currently rolled up, about a little, a bit too nonchalantly for Imoen’s taste. 

A look of abject terror came into Zaerini’s golden eyes. “Um…Adahn?” she said. “You may want to rethink that…” 

Edwin nodded violently. “Yes”, he fervently said. “Please trust me, that is a very, very bad idea. (I still bear the mental scars.)”

“Perhaps we can go have dinner or something?” Imoen desperately tried. “Just you and me? And you can look at it in private?” 

A very ominous look crept into Adahn’s black eyes, and when next he spoke it was in a voice that reminded Imoen of the mild hiss of a dagger being unsheathed. “No”, he said. “Actually, I think I’d rather have a look at it right now. I don’t know what the three of you are trying to hide, but I will see it uncovered before I…” And then he broke off in mid-sentence. He had been unrolling That Picture as he spoke, and now he was staring at it in all its detailed and lovingly rendered ‘uncovered’ glory, with a very peculiar look on his face. Actually, it wasn’t so much a look, as an absence of a look, almost as if he had been instantly transformed into a stone likeness of himself. Imoen didn’t think he was even blinking. 

“Oh dear”, Zaerini whispered. “Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear…” Somewhere in the background Edwin was moaning quietly. 

“So…” Imoen tried. “Do you like it?” 

“What…” Adahn said, and then he had to clear his throat since his voice sounded unnaturally hoarse. “What…what in the name of all the Nine Hells were you thinking of!” Then he checked himself and suddenly looked very pale. “No, forget that. I don’t want to know what you were thinking of.” He pointed That Picture at Imoen’s nose. “You and I. Need to talk. Seriously. Tomorrow night. Don’t come looking for me. I will find you.” 

“Can’t we do it tonight?” 

“No.”

“But I…”

“NO!” Adahn shook his head emphatically before he slipped into the shadows and disappeared from sight. Imoen could hear his disembodied voice drifting back towards her. “Definitely not tonight. For some reason, I suddenly have a very severe headache…”


	50. Presents

**In The Cards 50 – Presents**

_Cats tend towards the philosophy that dead prey shouldn’t be wasted. Whether it’s eaten, played with until it’s smeared all over the floor, or simply lovingly left on your pillow, you can always trust a cat to come up with a creative use for a dead body. Also, a personally crafted present may just take a relationship to another level, if not necessarily the one you were looking for._

_Excerpt from ‘Ruminations Of A Master Bard’_

Zaerini woke up to a beam of bright sunlight tickling her nose. Yawning widely, she turned over in bed, luxuriating in the feeling of soft pillows and fluffy bolsters. _Mmmm…Finally a proper bed after all that time on the road. And with all the loot we got from Durlag’s Tower we can certainly afford it. Sure, the Elfsong isn’t the prettiest place in town, but it’s a great improvement over sleeping on the ground_. The bard yawned once again and stretched lazily as she tried to sort out her thoughts. _Let’s see now…what did we do yesterday? We arrived in Baldur’s Gate…and we dropped a cow on Elminster the Annoying. Hee hee. Wish I could see that all over again. And then…oh no. Immy…and Adahn…and That Picture. That is not good._

Now that she had started thinking about it, she could remember more and more. Imoen had been almost frantic as the two girls went to bed, desperate to be reassured that the object of her adoration would forgive her little indiscretion. _Poor Immy. It had to happen sooner or later, but she’s going to be so disappointed. He’d just better be gentle with her, that’s all I say. Not that I exactly can blame him for being upset either. Not where That Picture is concerned. I probably would be too._

Sighing softly the bard got out of bed and went in search of her best friend. She eventually found Imoen in the common room. The pink-haired girl was nervously pushing the sad remnants of a boiled egg about on her plate as she listened to Yeslick trying to cheer her up. 

“Now don’t ye fret”, the dwarf was saying. “The lad may have been a mite upset yesterday, but I’m sure he’ll forgive it all today.” 

“I hope so”, Imoen said, but she didn’t sound very certain. “But suppose he doesn’t? Suppose I’ve mucked it all up? Suppose he’ll hate me now?” 

“Hey”, Rini said, sitting down next to her friend and giving her hand an encouraging squeeze. “I’m sure he doesn’t hate you. He may not be exactly pleased, but that’s a different story. And you just tell him that if he goes over the top, he’ll have to deal with me. It’ll be all right, I’m sure.” 

Imoen sighed deeply. “I hope so”, she said. “Well, there’s nothing to be done about it right now. I’ll have to wait until tonight and that’s that. What are we going to do today?”

“We’ll start exploring the city a little, get a feel for what it’s like. I thought we’d start down by the docks. The Iron Throne building is there.” 

“We’re not going inside yet, are we?”

“No, no. I just want to check it out a little, that’s all. We need to find out more about what’s going on in the city before we move against Sarevok.”

“Oh!” Imoen suddenly exclaimed. “Sarevok! What with all the rest I forgot all about that.” She took out a book from her pack and handed it to her friend. “See, Adahn gave this to me. He thought you’d want it.” 

“Me? What is…” And then the bard broke off as she stared at the book’s title page. “This…this is…Immy, do you know what this is?”

“Yup.”

“But…but why did Adahn have this? And why would he give it to me?” 

Imoen shrugged a little. “He didn’t say. I think he was just trying to be helpful.”

“Hm. Maybe. And that makes me just a little nervous.” 

Imoen’s eyes went suspiciously large and shiny. “Oh, come on Rini. He was trying to help, really he was. Don’t be like that. You like him, don’t you?”

“Yes”, the half-elf said, pulling a hand through her red hair with an exasperated gesture. “Yes, I like him. But that doesn’t mean I entirely trust him.” She shook her head. “Still, no matter his motives, this should be a very interesting read. I’ll start with it this evening when we get home.” Softpaws chose this particular moment to leap onto the table and stroll about between the plates and glasses, watching them critically in a disgusted manner that strongly reminded Rini of the way Adahn had looked at That Picture. 

_What is this?_ the cat complained. _No fish? No cream? No jellied unborn mice for your beloved familiar to feast upon?_

_Mggllp…_

_What? What did I say?_

_Softy, never ever mention unborn mice to me when I’m about to have breakfast. Particularly jellied ones. Now you’ve made me lose my appetite._

_Tsk, tsk. So sensitive, kitten? Next you’ll probably be telling me that you think I should leave the ‘pretty little birds’ alone. Mmmrrrr…wait a moment. I almost forgot…_ The cat jumped off the table and disappeared for a moment, before seemingly popping out of thin air to deposit a very large and very dead rat on Zaerini’s plate. _You really need to practice your hunting skills you know, and since I don’t trust you to handle a live one properly, I thought you could start with this. Don’t worry, I’ll tell you exactly what you’re doing wrong._

“I…think I’ll go and brush my hair”, Imoen said in a faint voice. 

“Aye”, Yeslick agreed, nodding vigorously. “Me…me beard needs some grooming too…” 

_Sissies._

_Softy, you know I love you._

_Yes?_

_And I don’t mind the killing one bit. But could you at least quit leaving corpses on my plate?_

_What ever for? And it’s a present!_

_It’s…a two-legs thing. Most of us think that corpses should at least be left on the floor. Oh, and I have killed more challenging things than rats, in case you didn’t notice._

_Not in cat-form, you haven’t_. There was the definite feeling of a smirk in the cat’s mental voice. _You need to learn that. And like I said, I plan to teach you everything you need to know._

Rini sighed. She had a feeling it was going to be a long day. 

A few hours later the half-elf’s suspicions had been mostly confirmed. The party had started out by investigating the streets to the southeast of the Elfsong, encountering nothing more entertaining than an old seer named Gaxir, who had taken up residence at the Blade and Stars Inn. After carefully telling her that her future was ‘stemmed in darkness’ he asked her to bring him a Sphene Gem from a nearby warehouse. What he neglected to mention was that an angry basilisk that had been illegally imported into the city by some foolhardy adventurers currently guarded the gem in question. The animal was not at all pleased at being disturbed. Fortunately, Zaerini’s party still had a Stone to Flesh scroll or two to spare, and they were able to turn Jaheira back. Edwin naturally couldn’t pass up the opportunity to say that he thought Jaheira was pretty much stone-faced in the first place, and that they might have spared themselves the trouble. It had taken half an hour to calm Khalid down. 

Once the gem was brought back to the seer, his maddeningly cryptic response was to speak vaguely about …cities below cities, dreams beneath dreams, the past laying buried beneath the crushing weight of the present...

_Whatever that means_ , Rini thought. _I should try to do a Reading of my own in any case. Tonight, once I’ve had the time to look through Sarevok’s diary._

She found herself thinking more and more about that diary. _Finally, a chance to learn some more about my brother. To better understand what drives him. What…what led him to our meeting outside Candlekeep. Yes. Tonight._

There were screeching seagulls overhead now, and the strong smell of the sea was invading her nostrils. The streets were winding towards the docks, and the warehouses were everywhere around. Empty crates and barrels stood next to the houses, and in once place there was even a small rail-track for carting about heavy goods. It’s good to be close to the sea again. I’ve missed that. There were several ships anchored here, she noticed. One of them stood out particularly with its gaudy red lanterns. She guessed it to be a tavern or something. 

Close by there was a large stone building, rather impressive looking, and with a sign outside proclaiming it to be the Harbor Master’s office. “We should go inside”, Jaheira said. “The Harbor Master will know much about the merchant consortiums operating in the Gate. Perhaps he can tell us something about the Iron Throne.” 

The Harbor Master, a portly and pompous looking halfling, turned out to hold at least one important piece of information. The Iron Throne had been very successful as of late, and contrary to what one might expect their various rivals didn’t seem to be interested in countering their schemes. “Interesting”, Edwin said once the party came outside. “I wonder if this has something to do with what Scar told us. Perhaps we really ought to take a closer look at those merchants at the Seven Suns.” 

“We will”, Rini assured him. “But right now, I want to see what the Iron Throne itself looks like. Not to go inside of course. I just want to see the place.” 

“Is that wise?” Jaheira asked. “Suppose Sarevok spots us? Then he will know for certain that you have reached the city.” 

“He…he already knows that.” Zaerini hadn’t known she was going to say that until she did, but as soon as she spoke the words, she knew they were true. “He…knows that I am close, though not exactly where.”

“H-how can you b-b-be so certain?” Khalid asked. 

“I’m not sure. But there is something between us, I don’t know what exactly. A bond of sorts. Perhaps it is because we’re both children of You-know-who. Perhaps it’s something else. But whatever it is…I think it’s getting stronger. And I don’t think it’s going to get broken except by the death of one of us. Perhaps not even that.” 

“In that case”, Edwin grimly stated, “we will make sure that it will be his death, not yours.”

It was at this moment that Yeslick suddenly cried out with indignation. “Hold it, thief! Give me back my money!” 

Rini turned her had to see a man rapidly brush past the angry dwarf and disappear into the crowd. He was a very ordinary-looking man. Middle-aged, middle-sized, with a pale face and mousy hair. There wasn’t a single remarkable thing about him. Nothing, apart from his strange ability to keep just ahead of the group of adventurers sprinting after him, seemingly without even breaking a sweat. Then he disappeared into a large and elegant mansion with a blue-tiled roof, and the door closed behind him. “Nobody steals from me and gets away with it”, Yeslick growled, and hurried up the path towards the door. 

“Yeslick, wait!” Zaerini called out. “It could be a…trap…” But the dwarf was already gone. The mansion was as elegant on the inside as on the outside, but there was no sign of the pickpocket. 

“Nice place”, Imoen said appreciatively. “Wish I could own something like this.”

“This is nothing”, Edwin said with a dismissive shake of his head. “Compared to the Odesseiron Family Mansion, this is nothing more than an insignificant hovel.” For once Rini got a sense that his boasts actually had some solid foundation in truth. 

“You must be very wealthy then”, she whispered, trying to look in all directions at once after the missing thief. 

“Certainly. We’re one of the wealthiest Families, and also one of the more powerful ones. Not to mention noble.” The Red Wizard looked extremely pleased with himself. “Why, I know my every single ancestor, several generations back, on both sides.” 

“Oh. That’s nice. And to think I only know of one ‘ancestor’. Still, that’s plenty.” _Not just wealthy, but nobility as well. That’s not good._

_Why not, kitten?_ Softpaws asked. _I thought people appreciated that sort of thing._

_I don’t mind it as such, or care about it either. I…I like Edwin, you see. Not his family fortune. But his family may not see things that way. They might think I’m just an opportunist. A gold-digger. And suppose he thinks that too?_

_Don’t be silly. Of course he doesn’t. And if he did, then he wouldn’t deserve you in the first place. Don’t fret about it._

_All right. I’ll try not to. But I do still wish he wasn’t a noble. I can’t help being afraid his parentage may complicate things._

_That’s a bit rich coming from you, isn’t it?_

_Oh. Yes. I suppose so. But I…_

It was then that Rini’s thoughts were rudely interrupted by a deep and booming voice, speaking out of thin air. “Little pink ones, you shall all die. The son of Murder offers 10000 gold for the head of Zaerini, and we shall have it.” Four Ogre Mages suddenly appeared on the other side of the room, all of them looking very pleased. Right. A trap. I suppose that pickpocket must have been either an accomplice or some sort of summoned construct. The bard wasted no more time. A large fireball flew from her fingers, at the same time as Edwin launched one of his own. Three of the ogres died instantly. Jaheira used a wand she had found in Durlag’s Tower, calling down a roaring pillar of flame that incinerated the one survivor on the spot. 

“Hm”, Rini said once the corpses had mostly stopped smoking. “It looks like Big Brother is taking me more and more seriously. 10000 now, is it? I’m flattered. And I think that such a considerate gesture deserves one in turn.” 

“W-what exactly are you p-p-planning?” Khalid asked. 

The half-elf smiled ominously, her golden eyes glittering. “I’m just going to send Sarevok a little gift, that’s all. Seeing that he’s so generous in supplying me with all these assassins, I think he should get one back. I just need some proper supplies…” _Sarevok deserves it. I’m really tired of all these assassins._

An hour later the soldier standing guard outside the Iron Throne compound saw a redheaded halfelf walking towards him with a pleasant smile on her face. “Hello there”, she said. “I wonder if you can help me with something. I’ve got a special delivery for Sarevok Anchev. Could you see that he gets it, please?” She smiled again, and held out a neat box, wrapped in paper and tied up with a big red bow. For some strange reason it also smelled faintly of smoke, as well as of something else. Bacon, perhaps? 

“I don’t know”, the man said. “I’m not sure I can trust you.”

“Look, it’s perfectly safe. You can even tell him that you don’t trust me if you want to be on the safe side. But he does want to see this.” 

“Very well. I shall inform him, and he can decide on his own. Just leave the thing here. Who shall I say sent it?”

The girl winked briefly. “Just describe me, would you? He knows who I am.” She paused. “Oh, and tell him that when next he’s out hiring goons, he should try to find one who can keep his head under any circumstances. Meanwhile, I’m following the example of my cat and leaving him a little…present.” 

_Later that day…_

It wouldn’t go away. While he’d made certain to hide That Picture away, the image still seemed to be permanently burnt into his retinas. _I probably ought to have torn it up_ , Dekaras thought. _But somehow I doubt that would be enough. It would show up again, one way or another, and the fewer people see it, the better_. Then a dreadful thought struck him. _She didn’t show it around, did she? Wait. Zaerini did say something about my seeing it being a bad idea. And then there was Edwin. Oh no. This…is bad. Very bad. How am I ever supposed to look him in the eyes again? And what if somebody else has seen the terrible thing?_

The assassin was walking through the streets of Baldur’s Gate, a dark scowl fixed firmly on his face. He wasn’t certain exactly what he intended to do once he found Imoen, but he fully intended that she wouldn’t forget it easily. _I can’t believe she did such a thing. After all I’ve done for her, I really wouldn’t have expected her to start distributing nasty caricatures of me, particularly ones…that…that…frank. That’s gratitude for you. Actually, I don’t know why I’m surprised. I certainly ought to know better than to place even a fragment of trust in strangers. I must have been temporarily insane to do so in the first place._

There wasn’t the shadow of a doubt in his mind that he’d find Imoen eventually. After all, he was very good at finding people, and she hadn’t been long enough in the Gate that there’d be very many places she could go. The Thieves Guild seemed a good place to start looking. Imoen would want to go there to meet with her contact, and even if she had already left somebody would have seen her. 

Normally, Dekaras rather enjoyed the Baldur’s Gate Thieves Guild. But tonight, there was something…different…in the atmosphere. A subtle undercurrent. He couldn’t identify it, but it made him extremely uneasy. He could almost feel people watching him, and he didn’t like it one bit. Rapidly he scanned the room. The usual activities seemed to be going on. Nothing out of the ordinary. Well…almost nothing. Black Lily the fence was doing business as usual, and there seemed to be an unusually large number of mostly female rogues clustered around her. Once they noticed him looking at them a frenzied flurry of whispers broke out, as well as some muffled laughter. _I don’t like the looks of that. But unless I do something about it I’ll only encourage them._

Carefully molding his face into an emotionless mask, the assassin stalked over to Black Lily’s table, inwardly snarling at this new annoyance. “Good evening, ladies”, he told the small gathering. 

“Hello there, stranger”, Black Lily told him with a sultry smile. “Anything I can do for you? Anything at all?” 

_Why did that make them all start smiling like that? And why are three of them winking like crazy and two of them nudging her?_

“Perhaps you can help me at that. I’m looking for a girl.” 

“Well”, the dark-skinned woman purred. “That I don’t sell. But it might be that I can oblige you, anyway, provided you ask nicely enough.” More looks and smiles from the surrounding women. One feral-looking redhead in particular was giving him some very sly sidelong looks and moving her lips silently. _I honestly don’t want to know what she’s saying._

“A particular girl, that is”, Dekaras added, trying not to visibly grind his teeth. He didn’t want to show it, but these women were really starting to get to him. “A very pink-headed one.” 

“Ah”, Black Lily said with a small sigh. “Such a shame. You sure she’s who you want, stranger?”

“Want doesn’t have anything to do with it. She’s whom I need to speak with. Have you seen her or not?” 

“All right. She’s here; she went to speak with Narlen. You’ll find them in the backroom. But you can do better I’m sure, what with your obvious talents.” Black Lily’s dark eyes were alight with mischief. “I should know.” There were even more winks and disturbingly knowing smiles. 

“I’m not sure why you would think that”, Dekaras said, rather curtly. “It’s not as if you’ve ever seen me at work. But I thank you for your assistance all the same.” 

As he moved off he could swear he heard the female rogue whisper ‘Love, I’ve seen plenty, and I like it.’ The giggles that followed that particular statement made him feel a very strong urge to kill something. Anything, really. Preferably in a painful manner. But first he needed to find Imoen, of course. 

Imoen was indeed to be found in the Guild’s backroom. She was standing in one corner, speaking quietly with Narlen Darkwalk, a reasonably competent burglar from what Dekaras knew about him. The girl was trying to watch the entire room at once, obviously nervous. It wasn’t particularly difficult to quietly approach her out of her line of sight. “Sure”, Imoen was telling her companion. “I can do that. But it’ll have to be a little later, I’m supposed to meet somebody…” 

“Ah, but couldn’t ye simply tell’em that…”

“No”, Dekaras smoothly interrupted. “She couldn’t. Now if you'll excuse us, I believe she is previously engaged.” Both the girl and Narlen startled at this. Imoen turned a bright pink, Narlen a sickly yellow. _I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of doing that._

“I’ll…I’ll just leave ye to it then”, Narlen said and backed away, trying to avoid looking at the assassin’s face. Possibly he read something disturbing there. “Later then, girlie?”

“Um…yeah”, Imoen agreed, still blushing. “Whatever. So…um…hi Adahn. Everything all right?"

"No", the assassin coolly told her. "Everything is most certainly not 'all right', as you should well know. Which is exactly what we need to talk about. Come with me. This needs to be done privately and with no disturbances." Fortunately, the Guild was well equipped for situations like this one. Rogues often needed to hold private meetings in order to make plans with each other and the private meetings rooms that could be rented by the hour on the second floor had very thick walls. Not only that, but for an extra sum the Guild's consulting wizard would put a silencing ward around the entire room. Dekaras did think it prudent to do so in this case. This wasn't something he wanted anybody to hear. What did disturb him deeply, however, was the fact that Black Lily and her gang of friends giggled even more than before as he led Imoen upstairs. Something was very, very wrong with those women. They seemed mentally disturbed, the whole lot of them. 

The meeting room wasn't much to look at. There were no windows that intruders could peer through, only a narrow arrowhole, and not much in the way of furniture. Just a table and a few chairs, and some candles for lighting. The assassin lounged by the door, leaning against it and effectively blocking it. Imoen looked more than a little nervous, and that was exactly what he meant her to be. She sat on one of the chairs, her arms resting against its back, restlessly twiddling her thumbs. "So", Dekaras said, once he judged that the silence had grown deep and uncomfortable enough. "Here we are, alone at last. And now I believe you owe me an explanation. Care to tell me what the reason for this was?" He took out That Picture and held it up between his thumb and forefinger, giving it a disgusted look. 

Imoen's cheeks had gone from pink to bright red by now and she refused to meet his eyes. "Well I…you see…I thought that…and that you'd maybe…and…it's sort of complicated."

"Complicated? I don't think so. To me, it seems perfectly straightforward." Though the assassin tried to keep his voice calmly ominous, a certain edge of raw anger crept into it. "Nothing forced me to ever help you out against that ridiculous Abduh character, you know. Or to give you any private instruction for that matter. I only did that because you seemed like a bright girl, and because you reminded me of a dear friend of mine. I was actually stupid enough to think that I could place some small rudiment of trust in you, so I suppose this is partially my own fault." 

Imoen was staring fixedly at the floor by now. "I…I didn't mean…" she said in a very small voice. "I…I guess that maybe I should have kept the picture between the two of us. Or at least not used it to show to people in order to find you. But I didn't mean any harm, honestly, I didn't! It's such a lovely picture, and so accurate, I guess I just wanted to share it. Sorry."

Dekaras, meanwhile, was trying to keep his mouth from dropping open. This required some effort, since he felt as if he had just been smacked about the head by an ogre with a spiked club. _She…showed it around…to…to ask for directions? I…suppose that explains Black Lily. And those very odd looks I got from that one woman I passed in the street earlier. And from the baker. And that waitress. And…and…_ "Just how many people did you show that…that thing to anyway?" he asked, fighting a powerful urge to strangle the girl in front of him. About the only reason why he kept from doing so was that he wanted to get some more answers out of her. 

"Er…I'm not sure. Maybe…maybe a dozen or so. Maybe two." 

_Two dozen? I won't be able to show my face in the street for weeks!_ "I don't know why you would want to make me a public laughing-stock", he said. "I'm sure I won't like the answer, but I still feel I have the right to know why, after the rather pleasant relationship we had had thus far, you would want to mock me like that. Like I said, I actually thought I could trust you." He knew that the slightest tinge of hurt was creeping into his voice and hated himself for it. With any luck, Imoen wouldn't notice. 

Unfortunately, it seemed that she did. Imoen was staring straight at him now, her eyes wide with shock. "But…but it wasn't like that!" she protested. "I wasn't trying to make fun of you!"

The assassin snorted contemptuously. "No? Then why did you do it?"

"Because…because…" Imoen suddenly scrunched up her face with violent determination. "BECAUSE I LOVE YOU, STUPID!" she screamed, making Dekaras very happy that the silencing wards were in place. He only wished his ears had been protected by some as well. Then the meaning of the words came crashing home. 

"You what?!" 

"I love you", Imoen whispered. "I've loved you since we first met." 

"But…but…you can't possibly mean that!"

"Why not?"

"Well…for one thing I'm old enough to be your father." 

Imoen sniffed. "Who cares?" she said. "Not me." 

"But…you don't know anything about me." 

"I don't care. I have lots of time to learn more."

"But…I'm…not exactly the traditional type for young girls to be…well…enamoured with."

"Who cares? And what do you know about that anyway, it's not as if you ever were a girl, were you? And I'm not young. I'm a grown woman, really, I am. I…er…guess that's part of the reason why I drew the Picture that way. So you'd see me for a grownup." She gave him a hopeful look, her heart in her eyes. 

Dekaras usually took great pride in being able to handle himself in just about any situation. Right now, though, he wanted nothing more than to sink through the floor and disappear from sight, and he honestly had no idea what to say. _She…she really does mean it, doesn't she? She really does see me that way, and she really…is…in love with…oh no. What have I done? What do I say?_

Something of what he was feeling must have shown on his face, despite his best efforts to keep his composure. Imoen's smile slowly faltered, and her eyes turned suspiciously shiny. "It's…it's not going to happen, is it?" she said, and though she was obviously trying to be brave about it, there was an obvious tremor to her voice. 

Dekaras shook his head. "I'm…very sorry", he said, struggling to find the right words. "I… truly had no idea you felt this way, or I…I would have done something about it sooner. If I have somehow led you to believe…" He couldn't quite bring himself to say it. "That is…I am honoured, of course. And under other circumstances…and if I had met you at another time…who knows? But as it is…" 

"Y-Yes?" 

_I have to tell her the truth. At least part of it. I owe her that much_. "You see…there is somebody else." 

Imoen's lower lip was trembling violently by now. "I…see", she said. "And…and do you love her? Really, really love her?"

"Yes. I really, really love her. I'm sorry." 

Imoen sniffed a couple of times. "No, don't be", she said. "It's not your fault. You didn't know. I…I just hope she knows that she's an incredibly lucky woman." Then she let out a low wail of despair and sagged across the table, her shoulders shaking with muffled sobs. 

The assassin hesitated for a couple of moments. _What do I do? What can I do? But I have to try something_. Then he pulled out a chair next to the weeping girl and sat down by her side, putting one hand on her shoulder in what he hoped would be taken as a comforting gesture. He didn't say anything, mostly since any words seemed woefully inadequate in this particular situation, but it seemed to work anyway. Imoen cried herself out, and once the storm of weeping subsided into random sobs and hiccups, he wordlessly handed her a handkerchief. 

Imoen blew her nose loudly. "Thanks", she whispered. "You're…you're a really nice guy, you know that? I'm so sorry about all the mess I caused." 

Dekaras shrugged a little. "No, I'm not", he said. "And there's no need for further apologies. It'll all blow over eventually, I'm sure." He frowned slightly as he noticed Imoen's red and puffy face, and then took out a small box from one of his numerous pockets. "Try rubbing some of this on your eyelids. I would guess that you don't want the girls downstairs to know you've been crying."

"Thanks." Imoen held out the handkerchief towards him. "Here's your hanky, by the way." 

Dekaras just managed to suppress a small shudder at the sight of the soggy mess. "Keep it", he said. "I'll manage. And…good luck. With everything. You do have the makings of a skilled thief." He moved towards the door, not knowing exactly why he felt so drained and exhausted, or why he felt such an acute sense of loss. 

"Adahn, wait!" Imoen's eyes were clearer already, and she sounded much more like her old self. "I just thought…it's not as if we can't ever see each other again, is it? I mean…if you have some time to spare…I could still use a few pointers." 

"I'm…not certain that would be appropriate."

"Aw, come on! I'll promise to behave, really, I will. Please? I could sure need some tips about that burglary tomorrow. Not to mention the breaking I've been hired for at the Oberon estate. I'd really like to hear your opinion about that. Please? Pretty please? With sugar and a cherry on top?"

_I probably shouldn't do this. But…she is truly clever, and has plenty of natural talent. She might make it to the very top. And it would be a shame not to pass some of my skills on when I have the chance. There's always Edwin of course, but that's different. That's magecraft. This…is what I really do._

"Very well", Dekaras said with a small smile. "I will probably regret this, but you shall have your wish. Tomorrow after sunset I will meet you by the Sorcerous Sundries shop, and we will see how your skills have improved. In the meantime, I suggest you go home and get some rest." 

"Oh, thank you! Thank you so much! I'll be good, I promise. Can't we do it at once?"

"No. I have another thing to do tonight. Tomorrow will be fine." _And I just hope that my meeting with Edwin will be less stressful than this. Whatever he's been up to since I last saw him, it can't be this bad._


	51. Reading, Reunion and Revelry

**In The Cards 51 – Reading, Reunion and Revelry**

_Done properly, your Reading will provide you with knowledge of the future. Of course, the problem always lies in interpreting that future. Your answers will always depend on what questions you ask, and the terrible fate you foretell may not come to pass in exactly the manner you expect it to. Then again, it may, and in such a case it is always good to have your will prepared in advance._

_Excerpt from 'The Chaltar Deck of Cards - An Introduction'_

She didn’t want to think about it. She diligently tried to push it away from her conscious thoughts. But now that she had acquired the knowledge, it wouldn’t go away. Zaerini stared at the book lying next to her on her bed as if it were a poisonous snake. Sarevok’s diary. If she’d been told a few weeks ago that she’d hold it in her hands before long she would have laughed out loud. And if somebody had told her that the things she learnt from it would make her want to weep for the one who had tried to kill her more than once, the one who had killed Gorion… Why then she would no doubt have wanted to claw out the eyes of whoever implied that she would insult her foster father’s memory that way. But now…she felt differently. 

The red-haired half-elf shuddered silently and gave the book a long look. The images evoked by the paragraphs within weren’t pleasant ones. _My brother – I wish things could have been different for you_. She closed her eyes so as not to have to see the book any longer, but the images from within the pages still kept rolling by behind her closed eyelids. Nobody – especially no child – should have to live like that. _As much as I always loved Gorion, I don’t think I ever fully understood just how lucky I was to have him. But now…I do._

There had been other information in the diary as well, very important information. Mentions made of plots to incite a war, to eliminate Grand Dukes, to gain power. _And not just the power to rule a city either. He hears our sire’s voice, same as I do. I’d already guessed that much, and that he was listening to it, being controlled by it. But to see it spelled out so plainly…mass murder in order to achieve divinity…it hardly bears to think about. But how can he believe this will work? How can he possibly believe that Bhaal will allow him to take his place?_ Then she groaned quietly as the answer came to her. _Because he wants to believe of course. And our sire knows exactly which words to use, which false promises to make. It’s been so close for me, so many times. If not for Gorion – and my friends – it might as well be me wearing that spiky armor._

_And your trusty familiar. Let’s not forget that_. Softpaws was curled up in her Mistress’ lap, enjoying being petted. 

_Of course not. That goes without saying._

_What will you do with what you have learnt, kitten? Will you tell the man called Scar?_

Zaerini thought about this for a moment. _No. I don’t dare, at least not yet. First of all, we don’t know if he can be trusted. Second, he’d probably want more proof. He has no reason to believe that this diary is the real thing. But the most important reason is personal. Sarevok calls me by name in this book. He calls me his sister. Anybody who reads this will know who…what…I am. Remember that Flaming Fist soldier who wanted to kill Viconia because she was a Drow? That is how they will see me as well. A monster. A threat. Somebody who must be destroyed so that the ‘forces of Good’ can sleep easily at night. No, I won’t show this to Scar unless I really have to. It’s bad enough that Adahn knows._

_What do you think he intends to do with that knowledge, kitten?_

_I have no idea! For the life of me I can’t figure out the motives of that one. He hasn’t tried to blackmail me yet, but I don’t dare be complacent. And there’s something about him…_

_Such as?_

_I don’t know, and it’s extremely annoying. He…he reminds me of something. Or somebody. But I can’t think who or what, and I have a feeling that I should know, and that it’s really obvious. It’s driving me out of my mind, and I don’t know if I should confront him with it or not._

_Leave it for now. He’s not here anyway, so you can’t do anything about it right now. I’m sure you’ll figure it out eventually._

_I suppose you’re right. But there might be something I can do, actually. I’ll do another Reading of my cards. It may not solve that particular puzzle, but at least I should learn something from it._

The bard carefully shuffled her deck of cards and spread a number of them out on her bed, faces down. _Give me knowledge_ , she asked the cards. _Show me secrets. Show me what dangers I should keep watch against, what threats there are in my future_. Then she slowly started turning the cards over. 

The Two of Swords and the Fool came up first, coupled with the Knight of Swords. Then came the Bard and the Rogue. Next the Lovers, inverted. After them came the Serpent. Then the Emperor, crossed by the Devil. Finally – there was Death.

The cards swirled and danced before the half-elf's inner eye, and gradually the room around her darkened until the cards were all she could see. They filled her eyes and her mind, and she strained her ears, listening for what they had to say. And then the material world around her slipped away, and she found herself somewhere else entirely. 

Zaerini was standing on a dark and deserted plain, dead and desolated. No grass grew there, nor any flowers. The sky above was black and empty without a single star, and there wasn't even a faint breath of wind. _This place feels dead. Or maybe not dead exactly. More like it has never truly been alive._

And then there was a movement from within the surrounding shadows, and the first of the Cards sprang to life before her. The Two of Swords came first. A woman in rich clothing, such as a wealthy merchant might wear, wielding a large sword. She was facing an ugly grey humanoid, with wrinkled skin and shining silvery eyes, and it was armed with a sword as well. _A doppelganger. The Two of Swords means deceit and trickery. That certainly fits_. Woman and monster circled each other warily, swords clashing now and then in a slow dance of thrust and parry. At first, they seemed evenly matched. But the woman was tiring, and now the doppelganger was growing stronger, moving faster. With a triumphant hiss it drove its sword straight through the woman's heart, catching her sword as it was about to fall to the ground. 

The creature turned towards Rini, its eyes like empty mirrors that saw everything and betrayed nothing. "Foolish fleshlingssss", it hissed contemptuously. "You cannot hope to fight ussss. Even now, our numbersss are growing." It rippled and changed, and within seconds it had assumed the exact shape of the dead woman. Only the silver eyes remained for a moment, before they turned a normal brown. "You see?" the doppelganger asked. "We are many, and we are everywhere." It smiled an unpleasant smile. "Who can you trust when even your closest friends may be one of us? The little thief? The druid? The wizard? Or maybe we'll strike closer to home than that even…" 

"No! You're lying! None of my friends belong to you, and if you so much as try touching them I'll tie you in knots and rearrange your face with my fist!" 

"But is my servant lying, little sister?" The half-elf turned around at the sound of the deep and powerful voice. Sarevok stood there, smiling triumphantly, wearing the familiar armour and helmet. The shadows cast by the atrocious spikes fell across his face in a way that reminded Rini of the bars of a cage, but Sarevok didn't seem to notice. His golden eyes were glowing with power and confidence. _The power of our shared blood. If he ever tried to hold it back it hasn't been for a long time now_ "My plan is working perfectly", her brother gloated. "You will see for yourself soon enough, assuming you live that long." 

"Are you trying to impress me, big brother? I'd have appreciated it if you'd settled for doing it the way elder brothers normally do. Like climbing the tallest tree in the neighbourhood or stealing apples for me."

Sarevok frowned, seemingly annoyed by this remark. "Mortal foolishness", he said. "I have left all such things behind now. Once my plans come into fruition, I will fully ascend to our Father's throne." Slowly his form faded away into nothing, his words still hanging in the air. And there, where he had recently stood, Rini glimpsed the pale outline of a ghostly figure dressed in jester's motley. _No, my brother. I am not the Fool here. But how will I ever make you understand that? I hope I can. But if not…then I will do what I have to do._

Hardly had the first few cards disappeared before two more came to take their places. The Rogue she recognised well enough, a shadowy figure cloaked and hooded, watching her with a sort of lazy arrogance that made it itch violently between her shoulderblades for some reason. The Bard was even more familiar. Her own golden eyes were looking back at her out of her own face, solemn and a little sad. They were pulling at her, drawing her closer, making her head spin. She approached her twin, and as she reached out to touch her Zaerini felt herself melt into the other, becoming one with her. In an instant, she had taken the place of the Bard within the Reading. 

"What's happening?" she asked. "Did you do this?"

The Rogue snorted quietly. "Hardly", he said in a dry voice. "I didn't exactly ask to be here, you know. You are the one who arranged this cosy little get-together, in case you'd forgotten. I certainly have better things to do."

"Yet you do seem to show up everywhere", the half-elf slowly said. "Just who are you anyway?"

There was an infuriating smirk, hauntingly familiar. _What is it about him?! There's something I'm not seeing here_. "Come now", the man in front of her said. "You don't expect me to give away my secrets for free, now do you? I've grown rather attached to them over time. But as for me turning up, let me warn you in advance that my absence will do you no good. Rather the opposite, in fact." He paused, and when next he spoke his voice was deathly serious. "Allow me to demonstrate." He waved his hand briefly, and the scenery shifted around them. 

The first thing Rini noticed was how cold she was. Then she felt the pain, terrible burning pain all along her body, and there were dark streaks of blood here and there in her red fur. She was in her cat form, but something was very wrong. Searing wounds seemed to be covering her, hurting terribly, and she was cold and hungry. She was lying on dirty straw, and the first thing she saw as she raised her aching head was the metal bars that surrounded her. _A…cage? No! I have to get out!_ Wild with panic she staggered to her feat, her ears flat against her head. Then she noticed the other occupant of the cage and she felt the fur rise all along her back. 

The large black wolf was standing at the other end of the cage, watching her cautiously. She had a terrible feeling that those powerful jaws could probably snap her in two like a dry twig. But the wolf was making no openly hostile move for now it seemed. And then she noticed that whatever had happened to make her feel like she'd been run over by a cart had affected him too. There was blood dripping slowly from that thick black pelt as well, and she thought she could spot the same shallow but painful wounds that marred her own skin. When he took a step towards her, he did it slowly, painfully, and she could see ribs showing as if he'd been starved for a very long time. 

_You see?_ The eyes of the black wolf were burning with pain and anger. _This is what will be, and soon._

_But I don't understand! Where are we? Who has done this to us? If you know, then tell me. Please._

_We are in the same place, and in two different ones. A cage of pain wrought by betrayal. It will take time for us to free ourselves. And the one who inflicted those wounds is the one who never wanted to do so, but will, nevertheless._

_Who? WHO!_

The wolf took a limping step towards her, and then halted, snarling silently in an obvious effort to keep the pain at bay. _The pup, of course_. His mental voice was raw with agony, and Rini didn't think it was all physical. _You…you must find him and keep him close. You will find him before I do but remember this. I will come to check on you._

The pain was gone. Zaerini, once again back in her half-elven form, shivered briefly. The cage was gone as well, as was the wolf. Other cards passed by her briefly. The Lovers, normally a young couple entwined happily with each other. But the card was inverted; she could see the man and woman turning their backs to each other. _Lovers means duality. But inverted…that can't be good. Somebody is more than they seem to be, and it's going to cause a lot of trouble._

Then there was pain again, a brief sting at her ankle, and she cried out, startled. The Serpent hissed at her feet, a small brown snake this time, nearly invisible. She could already feel her flesh bloat and swell as the poison burned in her blood. "Sssso…" the snake said. "One of ussss has finally caught up with you. He will be pleasssed…" 

"W-who? Sarevok?" 

"Hssst! No. Him." 

The snake slithered away across the ground and was gone in a heartbeat. Rini felt her mouth go dry with fear as she saw what now approached. The Devil. A dangerous card under all circumstances, evil and unpredictable, taking pleasure in the pain of others. He was truly monstrous, a vast and bulky shape, with jutting fangs and scales, and a hideously misshapen and clumsy head. "Hello, Zaerini", the Devil said, in an incongruously pleasant male voice. "I have been waiting to meet you for a long time." 

When he touched her for the first time, she couldn't keep herself from screaming, and as he went on about his business she continued doing so. And through her own screams she could hear Death laughing in the voice of her sire. 

_Meanwhile…_

Sneaking was much harder than it looked, Edwin decided. He’d certainly seen his mentor do it often enough. Or rather he hadn’t seen him doing it, which was, after all, the whole point. It seemed so easy. Simply melt into the shadows and disappear from sight. It had seemed like a good idea to try to do the same thing in order to get out of the Elfsong without any of the rest of the party noticing. Of course, what he hadn’t counted on was the inherent difficulty in trying to sneak while wearing ankle-length wizard robes. Particularly bright red ones. It is not a challenge to recommend to a beginner in the art of thievery. 

Edwin’s first attempt at adopting a suitably roguish stealthy walk made him trip over those very robes, and as he crashed down the stairs, he was very lucky not to break his neck. As it was, he only acquired an interesting set of matching bruises. To make matters worse, he landed right at Jaheira’s feet, just as she and Khalid were coming up from dinner in order to retire. 

“E-Edwin?” Khalid asked, his face twitching violently. The Red Wizard hoped that it was with fear, but he suspected differently. “What in the w-world are you doing?”

“Yes, please tell us”, Jaheira added, arching an elegant eyebrow. “Is this some new sort of magical spell perhaps, one involving smashing every bone in your body?” 

Edwin gritted his teeth as he staggered to his feet, trying to look unconcerned. “You would not understand the complex experiments involved in shaping arcane energies”, he said. “Why…er…should I succeed, then I will have acquired the power of…of…”

“Of flight?”

“Yes, exact…no! No! The power of devastating destruction! (And guess who will be first in line.)” 

Then, to his utter humiliation, Jaheira patted him briefly on the cheek. “I quite understand”, she said. “Nature is a powerful mistress, and her commands are not easily ignored. It is only natural that you should be a little flustered at a time like this. Khalid was much the same when we started courting, were you not, Khalid?” She smiled warmly at her husband. 

“Oh y-yes”, the half-elven warrior readily agreed, putting an arm about his wife’s shoulder. “Why, I remember f-falling into a river trying to p-pick you an apple from a t-t-tree overhanging the riverbank…” 

“Lovely”, Edwin muttered. 

“It is all a matter of natural urges”, Jaheira went on in a lecturing voice. “What matters is how you go about dealing with those urges. And you will be careful, will you not? I would be most upset otherwise.”

_What in the name of Szass Tam’s Ancient Underwear is the woman blithering about now? What urges?_ “Naturally”, Edwin huffily said, trying to look as if he knew what the druid was talking about. “I am always careful.” 

”So I hope. Still, I think it would be a good idea if Khalid were to have a little Talk with you later.” The two Harpers moved off, leaving a very puzzled Edwin behind. _That woman is deranged. She has to be. Talk about what? With Khalid of all people?_

Still, he didn’t have the time to stand around wondering about the possible insanity of Jaheira. His teacher would be waiting for him, and Edwin did not intend to be late. He knew better than that, from painful experience. But now he had to brave the Elfsong’s common room, and he could see Yeslick sitting at a table near the door, having dinner by himself as he listened with obvious pleasure to the performing group of halfling minstrels singing a song about a flying cow. Edwin was more than a little startled when he recognized himself as the apparent hero of the song, a war wizard giving a cow the power of flight in order to use her as a secret weapon. Even more strangely, for some reason the song had transformed Elminster into a monstrous giant monkey bent on scaling the tallest tower in Baldur’s Gate (The Iron Throne building), clutching a screaming girl in his hand. Edwin suspected that Zaerini wouldn’t have been flattered by the way she was portrayed, no more so than Elminster. 

_Hm, news certainly travels fast in this city. They made up a song about it already? Impressive. But never mind that now. I need to get past the dwarf and out the door without him spotting me. Now let me see. What would Teacher Dekaras do in this situation? Keep to the shadows, I’d say. I can do that. It can’t be that hard, not if Imoen can manage it. I’ll show them both. I can be just as good as she is. No, better, I’m certain. Really, really good. Right. Shadows._

Edwin hesitated. The first possible shadow seemed very far away. And reaching it meant crossing a vast expanse of open floor. Then he had what he thought was a really brilliant idea. Quickly muttering a brief spell, he conjured a Globe of Darkness around himself, cloaking his form in a sort of swirling black cloud. Unfortunately, what he hadn’t counted on in his eagerness was that it also kept him from seeing anything whatsoever, including which way he was going. This had the unfortunate side effect of him stumbling blindly across the floor of a tavern crowded with nasty roughnecks and troublemakers, most of them roaring drunk. It was only half a minute or so before he felt himself colliding with something hard and large, something that felt a little bit like a wall. Assuming walls could be wearing spiky belts and animal furs, that was. There was a crashing sound of tinkling glass, and then he heard a low growl far above his head and felt something wet and unpleasant drip onto his scalp. He hoped it was beer, and not drool.

“You spill BEER!” a thick and brutish voice accused him. “That make Gronk MAD!” All the other voices in the bar suddenly went very, very silent. 

_Ogre_ , Edwin thought, feeling extremely panicky now. _Or half-orc. Possibly a troll, the pronunciation does sound a little trollish_. He thought desperately, trying to come up with something to defuse the situation. Unfortunately, his mouth seemed to have other ideas. “You don’t need any more beer”, it said. “You’ve obviously already drunk too much if you can’t even speak properly. (What you really need is a new brain, one that that is able to string together sentences of more than three or four words.)”

The growl came back, louder this time, and Edwin felt a large hand pick him up by the front of his robe. He was still blind, and the cloud of stinking breath that hit him full in the face made him almost grateful for the fact. He didn’t think he wanted to see anything that smelled like that. It suddenly occurred to him that maybe insulting large creatures in his current state, unable to target them with spells, was not a very good idea. 

“Maybe Gronk take your brain”, the unseen being holding him snarled. “But first Gronk play ball.”

“Play ball? Ah, I don’t think I’m all that interested in sports, so if you’d just put me down gently…” 

There was an anticipatory hiss of indrawn breath, and then Edwin suddenly was flying across the room. “PLAY BALL!” the hideous unseen antagonist roared, and then guffawed heartily. 

_I’m going to die, I’m going to die, I’m going to die…it’s not fair! I’m too young, too dashing, too brilliant, too…OUCH!_

The landing wasn’t a gentle one, particularly since the cobblestones out in the street were slick with rain. Edwin spent a few seconds simply trying to draw breath, immensely grateful that his enemy didn’t seem to be coming after him. Probably he had been detained. The sounds of a vast bar fight could be heard from inside the Elfsong. Gradually he felt his sight returning and pulled himself into a sitting position, wincing with pain. _Oooh…that hurts. I don’t think Teacher Dekaras needs to know all the details about this, really. No reason to bother him. No, no reason at all. I bet this sort of thing never happened to him._

And then he winced with mental rather than physical pain as he heard his mentor’s familiar smooth voice directly behind him. “My, that was an interesting way of exiting a building”, it said. “Very dramatic. You will have to forgive me if I don’t compose a song about it, I couldn’t possibly do it justice.” 

Edwin felt like groaning. _This is so unfair. How does he always manage to show up at exactly the wrong moment? You’d think he was clairvoyant_. “It…it was an accident”, he managed. At least his sight was returning now. “I was only trying to be discreet.”

Dekaras turned his head towards the tavern. The barroom brawl was getting noisier by the minute, and the sounds of screams, shouts and breaking furniture filled the air. “Discreet”, he said, sounding immensely weary. “Of course, you were, boy. I should have guessed. Please warn me in advance the next time you attempt discretion. At least then I can make certain to apply some earplugs first.” He took the Red Wizard by the arm and pulled him along into a dark alley. “Well, at least I’m happy to see you managed to avoid killing yourself, despite your ‘discretion’. Now come with me. We have important matters to discuss.” 

A while later they were sitting in what Edwin thought was a rather squalid room, in a small and extremely anonymous inn down in the docks. The wizard wouldn’t even have seen the building if he hadn’t been guided to it, hidden as it was behind other, more visible houses, inside a maze of narrow alleys. “If you need to get hold of me for some reason”, Dekaras said, “leave a message here. I won’t be in every night, but I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.” 

Edwin couldn’t keep silent any longer. “You won’t be…where will you be? Please tell me you won’t be with Imoen, you can’t possibly mean that you and she…that she…that you…” His voice trailed off uncertainly as he noticed the ominous look in the assassin’s black eyes. 

“That I what?” Dekaras said in a voice that was entirely too calm for Edwin’s taste. That was always a bad sign. 

“Um…that you…that is…that…” Edwin closed his eyes. He’d come this far; he had to go on, whatever the consequences. “Thatyou’remadlyinlovewithhernandmeantomarryherandmoveawayandstartafamilyofawfulpinkandcutechildren”, he said, not pausing to breathe. “Please, please, please say you’re not about to let that horrible Picture influence you into…into moving into some disgusting love nest with pink lacy curtains and matching furniture.”

There were a few moments of deep silence. “You will never mention That Picture in my presence again”, Dekaras said, still using that calm, reasonable voice that set off hundreds of warning bells inside Edwin’s head. “Am I making myself perfectly clear?” There was no threat, but then there didn’t really need to be. 

“Er…yes Teacher Dekaras.” 

“Good. I would hate to think that you’d gone slowwitted as well as delusional.” The assassin briefly cleared his throat. “Now listen to me. I. Am. Not. In. Love. With. Imoen. And whatever my future may hold, I assure you that pink curtains are very unlikely to be a part of it. I hope that satisfies your curiosity.” 

Edwin could have sung out loud. “You…you aren’t in love with her?”

“No.” 

“You aren’t about to marry her?”

“No.”

“Or get lots of bratty little children with her?”

“No!” The assassin murmured something very quietly, that sounded suspiciously like ‘looking after one bratty child is quite enough’. 

“Wonderful! I can’t wait to tell her that!”

“That you will not do. I’ve had words with her already, and no, I will not tell you anything more. It’s between her and me.” Dekaras moved a little closer to his pupil, smiling faintly in a manner that Edwin knew meant his patience was almost exhausted. “If it were to come to my attention that you’ve been teasing her about this unfortunate affair, then I would be most displeased. You don’t want that, do you?”

Edwin gulped. “No, sir”, he hastily said. 

“I thought not.” The assassin was smirking a little, but there was a new sense of warmth in his voice by now. “Now, let us move onto more pleasant subjects. It is very good to see you again, and I am eager to hear what you have been doing all this time.” 

“Right!” Edwin eagerly said, before launching into a frenzied and somewhat condensed version of recent events, once again speaking very quickly. “You won’t believe all the things that happened. I’ve got this new Archmagi robe, see? See? Isn’t it beautiful? I found that one down in the Cloakwood mines, where we fought this very powerful wizard named Davaeorn, and I’ve learnt lots of new spells, I’ll have to show you some later. I’ll do you proud, you’ll see! See how the spells are sewn into the very cloth of my new robe? See? See? And look at this staff I found, that’s new too, and it’s much better than my old one. I bet I could kill a dragon with one blow, using this staff. Oh, and we saw a real dragon! Well, only the skeleton, but it was still very exciting. You should have seen it! That was in Durlag’s Tower, did I tell you about Durlag’s Tower? Awful place, especially that Death Knight, but we beat him too, and there were spell scrolls lying around all over the place, so it wasn’t a total loss. I know how to cast a Cloudkill spell now, did I say that yet? Want to see? Well, not indoors maybe, but I could show you later, I’d love that. I think maybe the words could be modified a little, so the cloud turns another color than that ugly orange, what do you think? Maybe we could do some experimenting on that when we get home? Did I tell you about my new robe yet?”

“Yes”, Dekaras fondly said. “But feel free to do it again if you like. It has been a long time after all.”

Some convoluted explaining later, Edwin had told most of the details about recent events. Well, he’d left out the bit about Elminster. He had a feeling his teacher wouldn’t approve of him making himself a likely target for the elderly wizard’s wrath. And he’d tried to avoid mentioning his party leader as much as possible. He was confused enough himself about how he felt about her, he wasn’t about to attempt an explanation. _Besides, he wouldn’t understand. He’d never let a girl get to him like this._

If Dekaras noticed that his student was withholding something, he made no mention of it, but he did look rather thoughtful. And as the conversation moved onto Sarevok and the Iron Throne, he became even more interested than before. “This confirms what I have learnt myself, from within the Throne”, he said. “I believe I shall have to make a move very soon, within the next few days. We need to get this business out of the way so that we can move on to our own affairs. You do remember our own assignment, don’t you?”

“Er…certainly.” 

“Good. I wouldn’t like to think that you’d been neglecting your duties. Now, I have a couple of alternative plans, and hopefully they will prove beneficial. If everything goes as planned, Sarevok will soon be significantly weakened.”

“But what are you going to do?”

“I think it’s better that you don’t know for now. That way you will better be able to feign surprise after the fact.”

“All right”, Edwin said. Then he bit his lip and looked his mentor straight in the face, his voice strained with worry. “You…you will be careful, won’t you?” 

The assassin gave him an indulgent look. “Naturally I will, boy”, he said. “I am always careful.” Then he suddenly seemed to think of something. “By the way…when you were attempting ‘discretion’ earlier…why didn’t you simply cast a spell of invisibility?”

Edwin felt himself blushing to the tips of his ears. “I didn’t think about that”, he admitted. “I…um…was trying to do it your way to impress you. So you wouldn’t run out on me with Imoen.” 

“You shouldn’t worry about things like that”, his teacher said, his voice very kind. “Certainly, I want you to be the best wizard you can be, but for your own sake. I don’t want you to get yourself killed trying to impress me with doing something you aren’t trained to do. You are a wizard, not a rogue. I have never wished differently; you should know that. And I am never abandoning you either. Trust me, I’m not about to go anywhere.” 

Edwin smiled feebly, feeling a little better. But at the back of his mind the memory of a bad dream kept trying to get his attention, and the complete sense of security he so missed and craved wouldn’t quite appear. He wondered if it ever would again. 

_Deep within the Iron Throne tower…_

Sarevok was starting to wonder if perhaps he had been cursed at birth. Well, apart from the entire ‘Spawn of God of Murder’ thing, and that was a blessing more than a curse wasn’t it? Of course it was. Except for the fact that it also involved having siblings. Especially one particular, annoying, constantly-in-the-way, mess-up-my-best-plans, redheaded half-elf of a younger sister. She had to be part of some kind of curse. She couldn’t possibly cause that much aggravation otherwise, could she? Sarevok was starting to see his irritating sister everywhere now. Grinning from behind his reflection in the mirror. Waving at him from strange windows. Dancing around the rim of his plate as he was trying to eat, something that did not benefit his appetite. Why, only a short while ago he could have sworn he glimpsed her across the street from the Iron Throne building, laughing at him.

_If I don’t manage to kill her soon I’ll probably go insane, and then what kind of God of Murder will I be? That won’t do at all. She’s near. I can sense it, vague as the impression is. I must find her and kill her soon. Only then will I be free to pursue my grand destiny. At least those really expensive ogre assassins I hired should pay off._

The warrior’s broodings were interrupted by a knock on the door, and one of the servants entered, carefully carrying a large box, wrapped around with an elegant red bow. “Pardon me, sir”, he said. “Didn’t want to interrupt, but this just came for you.”

“What foolishness is this?” Sarevok asked suspiciously. 

“Don’t know sir”, the man nervously assured him. “This girl came up and delivered it. She said you’d know her.”

“Oh, did she? What did she look like?”

“Er…really red hair. Half-elven, not bad looking. Really strange yellow eyes sir, very weird, almost like…like…” The poor man trailed off, staring into Sarevok’s unblinking golden orbs as rivers of cold sweat started running down his brow and neck. 

“Yes?”

“Like…like…like…”

“I’m waiting.”

“like…like…like…like…”

“Oh, just get out of here”, Sarevok growled, shoving the man out the door. As he shut it, he could still hear the stunned servant repeating ‘like…like…like…like…’ as he staggered away. 

There was a faint smoky smell rising from the box, reminding Sarevok vaguely of bacon. _But why would my sister be sending me…_ Then the lid came off. Sarevok stared at his best ogre mage assassin, the one that had cost him 500 gold in advance. The dead, glazed-over eyes of the ogre mage’s severed and badly burnt head stared back at him, reminding him a little of fried eggs. There were a few seconds of absolute stillness. Then there was a great roar of rage, and the still smoking head hit the wall, making a disgustingly greasy stain. “SHE KILLED MY OGRE MAGE?!” Sarevok roared. “WILL THERE NEVER BE AN END TO THESE INDIGNITIES?” _And as if it isn’t enough that she’s completely destroyed my new ogre mage, the one I’d hardly ever used, she tops it off by making fun of me!_

YOU SHOULD NOT ALLOW THAT, MY SON. His Father’s voice sounded accusatory and even disappointed. It seared him to the bone. THE GIRL MUST BE PUT IN HER PLACE. UNLESS…

_Unless what?_

UNLESS HER PLACE SHOULD HAPPEN TO BE ABOVE YOURS. UNLESS SHE SHOULD HAPPEN TO BE MY TRUE HEIR. 

_NO! She isn’t! I’ll you show you my worth, Father! You know that. I will slay anybody to prove myself to you. Anybody. You know that._

ANYBODY? AN INTERESTING OFFER, MY HEIR. I MAY JUST TAKE YOU UP ON IT LATER. BUT FOR NOW, I WILL BE SATISFIED WITH THE DEATH OF YOUR SISTER. ASSUMING YOU CAN HANDLE THAT.

_I can. I can. You’ll see_. Sarevok’s mouth set in a grim line. He had worked too hard for this, for far too long. And nobody would be allowed to stand in his way, not now when he was so close to reaching his goal. _Come to me then, little sister. And we shall see who laughs last. Yes, when you face the new Lord of Murder we shall certainly see…_

Unfortunately, Sarevok’s ordeals this day were far from over. Yet another one of those accursed parties with the most prominent nobles of Baldur’s Gate was coming up. Sarevok knew it was necessary, in order to gather the political power, he needed. He still didn’t like it though, and he wished that he could simply have let Winski go in his stead. That would not do however, the mage assured him. It was Sarevok the masses wanted, and Sarevok they had to get. He was becoming very popular with the commoners as well by now, and facts mixed with carefully planted lies and exaggeration had made his reputation soar sky-high. Sadly, this meant the added complication of being forced to fend off droves of tittering girls, eager for a powerful and wealthy husband, particularly a big and strong one. No doubt this party of Duke Entar Silvershield’s would be swamped with them, the same as the others had been. The duke even had a daughter of his own, a young, unmarried one at that. What was her name? Sky? Something like that. 

_The only woman I want is Tamoko. I wish those nobles would get that through their thick skulls_. He had wanted to bring his lover with him to this affair tonight and let Silvershield be damned if he didn’t like it. The warrior woman had refused however, calmly stating that she would get no pleasure out of it and that her presence there would be of no use to him, might even cause him inconvenience. _I don’t care. I would suffer anything for her sake. Surely, she must know that? At least once I ascend, I won’t have to concern myself with these kinds of petty matters…_

And so now Sarevok’s grim figure towered over the brightly dressed nobles at Duke Entar Silvershield’s estate. He looked much like a man-eating bear sitting sourly in a cloud of fluttering butterflies, and his temper matched that of the bear very closely. The Duke’s daughter had turned out to be just as silly as he had suspected, a naïve little girl obsessed with the state of her hair, nails or dress. Fortunately, she didn’t seem hell-bent on becoming Mrs Sarevok Anchev. There were far too many girls who had that same idea, simpering all around him. And Sarevok had to speak to them all…and be polite to them…and dance with as many as he possibly could. 

A ball was simply not his kind of place, Sarevok decided. Give him a battlefield any day. He would much rather cleave his enemies in two with a single strike of his sword than be forced to make conversation with girls who kept agreeing with every word he uttered in order to please him, and who didn’t seem to have a single original thought in whatever they kept beneath their elegantly styled hair. It certainly couldn’t be brains. 

If only he could have worn his favorite armor. At least then he wouldn’t have had to bother with keeping the boredom and annoyance he felt from showing on his face. Sarevok slowly passed along the long line of giggling girls, feeling his mind go gradually numb. Then he suddenly frowned. Something was…odd. There seemed to be a gap in the horde of females, an empty space. No. Not entirely empty, but the cluster wasn’t quite as thick there. He quickened his step a little. Whatever was going…on? 

There were some very strange women standing near the buffet tables, all of them heavily veiled as if to protect their modesty. The first one, a stout figure in a frilly red dress, was rapidly shoveling food into her mouth. At least Sarevok presumed that it went into her mouth, but since the veil obscured her face he really couldn’t tell for certain. She was extremely short and didn’t quite reach his knees. 

The second woman was slim of form, skinny even. She wore a hideous sheath of golden brocade and a lot of heavy gold chains, and a wide hat from which a glittering veil hung down to obscure her face. As she noticed Sarevok looking in her direction she raised a hand covered in rings to her mouth and let out a high-pitched giggle. Nothing unusual about that this evening, but that giggle sounded very strange to Sarevok’s ears, and more than a little deranged. 

Finally, there was the third girl, and it was around her that the crowd really thinned out. This girl was built like a gladiator gone to seed, tall and broad, and also very flat. Somebody had apparently been insane enough to suggest that she wear a shockingly pink dress, covered with lace. It wasn’t a flattering outfit, since it made her look like a walking wedding cake. And not even a particularly tasty wedding cake. An enormous head of flowing golden locks obscured her face, and Sarevok was willing to bet that it was a wig. Worst of all, there was an overwhelmingly strong smell of perfume surrounding her, as if somebody had poured an entire bottle over her head. Despite that, there was the faint smell of something else beneath, and not something pleasant either. 

Sarevok’s eyes narrowed. He thought he could recognize that smell, and for a second, he started reaching for his sword. Then he remembered that he was at the damned ball, and that the Sword of Chaos was not the sort of accessory well-dressed gentlemen of Baldur’s Gate wore to balls, as Winski had previously put it. He did have a small knife, but that was it. Still, it would have to do. Quickening his stride, he set course for the woman in pink, his blood suddenly burning hot with murderous fury. 

_I’ll KILL them! This is all I needed to top off an already disastrous day._ The woman must have noticed his intentions from the look on his face. She grunted with fear and surprise, yanking at the sleeve of her giggling companion. And then, before Sarevok could react, the slim woman darted forward and grasped his hand. The short one kept eating noisily. 

“Oh, how lovely to meet you at last!” the ‘woman’ cooed in a shrill voice. “We’ve been waiting for ages! Right girls?” Beneath the veil Sarevok glimpsed a grotesquely tattooed face, but before he had the time to stab the disguised wizard in the guts the man flicked a lacy handkerchief in his face, more or less wiping his mouth. “Oh, you’ve got a little itty bit of food…right there! Can’t leave it there, it might live on and multiply. Before you know it it’ll have developed a language and planning to launch a vessel for a ride to the MOON!” The strange figure giggled again. “To the MOON! And the moon is made from baatezu-cheese, and the cheese is what will conquer the WORLD when the Great Old Ones come again. Remember that, always be on guard against the cheese. The whispering voices in the walls told me that.” 

Then the ‘woman’ grasped the hands of her companions and disappeared in a sudden flash of lightning, leaving a confused and angry Sarevok with a lot of pent up frustration and nobody to take it out on. In the end, he had to settle for stomping his foot, something that definitely lacked the forcefulness of chopping somebody’s head off. 

_Meanwhile, in the Secret Headquarters of Xzar the Necromancer, Montaron the Thief and their trusty sidekick Abduh the Zombie, the mood was elated._

“We did it!” Montaron chortled, dancing about the room in the ‘Gutted Avariel’ where they had taken up residence. As should be evident from the name, this inn was not a place where nice and righteous people stayed. At least not for very long. “We bloody well did it!” Montaron yelled again, almost cracking his head open as he cavorted by under a table. “Wizard, I take back every bad word I ever said about yer smarts.” 

Xzar preened, creating a very odd impression since he was still wearing his golden dress. He’d insisted on adding heavy makeup as well, claiming that it helped him ‘get into the part’. “Oh, thank you so much, Monty”, he said. “But I never would have done it if not for Abduh.”

“Urrrgh?” the zombie said, looking up from where he was sitting on the floor, investigating the intricacies of his new set of underwear, quite as pink and as lacy as the dress was. 

“Yes, yes, it’s true. Without spotting him picking his nose I never would have thought of infecting Sarevok with my own, homegrown version of the ‘Chortling Death’, the dreaded pestilence that makes you choke on your own laughter, strong enough to affect even supernatural creatures and undead. If you don’t get a cure within fifteen minutes, you’re dead. He is doomed, Monty! DOOMED! Isn’t it GLORIOUS? And if the rest of Baldur’s Gate should croak as well, that is certainly worth it. After all, you can’t make an omelet without cracking a few skulls. That’s what Granny always said, and her omelets were famous.” 

“Urrrgh?”

“Yes, Abduh, of course I’ll make you some. Such a good boy you are, yes you are…” The wizard tickled the zombie beneath his jowls, making him pant with eager excitement.

“Right”, Montaron said. “Good thing ye did some practice runs first too. Why, that extra strong breed of common cold was bad enough to put a man in bed fer days!” 

Xzar suddenly turned a pasty white beneath his makeup, staring at the table. There were two glass test tubes standing on it. And there was also a handkerchief, very similar to the one he had previously employed. “Er…Monty? You know when I prepared the test sample? Well, I planned to put it away afterwards, but then Abduh was feeling frisky and I had to deworm him, and what with one thing and another…I…think I might have…been a little confused.”

“What? You…you mean you don’t know if what we’ve got sitting on that table, out in the open, what we’ve been breathing in without the protection of those enspelled veils and wig is common cold or…or…Chortling Dea…”

“Ur…ur…urghehehehhehe!” Abduh suddenly chortled. 

Xzar and Montaron looked at each other for a long moment, their eyes brimming over with horror. “Arrrrgh!” Xzar screamed, his voice reaching a trilling falsetto. “To the temple Monty! To the…hihihi…TEMPLE!” 

As they stormed down the stairs, dragging Abduh after them, Montaron’s voice drifted back. “You know, wizard? What I said…heheheh…about taking back what I said about yer…hahahah…smarts? Well, guess what? I take it back.” 

On the other side of the city, deep within the Iron Throne compound Sarevok sneezed for the first time. Sadly for him, it wasn’t the last.


	52. Two Of Swords

**In The Cards 52 – Two Of Swords**

_The Two of Swords often implies deceit, falsehood and people living a lie. When it crosses your path, somebody is usually trying to deceive you. Of course, given the very nature of the card, the person you think is doing that may not be the one who in fact is, or at least not the only one._

_Excerpt from ‘The Chaltar Deck of Cards – An Introduction’_

There had been bad Readings before, but none of them had left her feeling like this. Once she came out of her trance, Zaerini huddled on the bed in her room, hugging her cat, trying in vain to make the memory of the pain go away. _The Devil…_ She sobbed quietly, trying not to think about it, but in vain. _If that happens for real, I don't know…I don't know how I'll go on. It can't be real! It mustn't!_ Shivering, she cradled her familiar closer, trying to draw comfort from the cat's presence. It helped, at least a little bit. 

_Kitten_ , Softpaws said, sounding very worried. _I think you need to talk to somebody about this._

_I can't! He…he hurt me, he made me…he made me…I can't even think about it. How can I take the words in my mouth when I can't even think about it?_

_You have to! They're your friends, they'll want to help you. You know that._

_But what can they do? I don't even know who the Devil is supposed to be. Only what…what he wants. Softy, it pleased him. What he did to me. Sarevok wants me dead, but this…this is so much worse. He wanted me to suffer, and be afraid, and humiliated._

There was the equivalent of a sigh in the cat's mental voice. _Oh kitten. There are some people like that, you know. I'll do anything to keep him from harming you, you know that. But remember, it may not be literal. It may mean something else._

_I suppose you're right. I hope so._

It was at this moment that Imoen entered the room, with a bright smile on her lips that probably would have fooled most people. Not Rini though. She knew her best friend, and she could tell when Imoen was trying to be brave about something. "Immy?" she cautiously said, hastily wiping the traces of tears away from her own eyes. "How…how did your talk with Adahn go?"

"Oh", Imoen said as she bent down to pull off her boots. "He was very…nice." Her pink hair fell forward to obscure her face, but there was a definite catch in her voice. "Very…very nice about everything." 

Rini's heart instantly went out to her friend, and she temporarily forgot about her own worries. "Oh Immy…" she said, as she got off the bed and gave her friend a big hug. "I'm so sorry. Do you want to tell me what happened?"

"He…he…he told me that he was sorry. And that there was somebody else." The young thief sniffed loudly. "I guess I should have known better than to think somebody that cute and clever wouldn't be taken. Rini, I feel so stupid!"

"Of course you're not stupid. I don't think you're stupid. Nobody thinks you're stupid. And if they did, I'd smack them till they were very sorry. There's nothing stupid about falling in love."

"I…I guess." Imoen sighed. "Well, at least he isn't mad at me about That Picture anymore, and we can still be friends. That's something." Then she looked up, only to notice her friend's red and puffy eyes. "Rini? What's wrong?"

Now it was the bard's turn to look away. "It…was my Reading", she said. "Sarevok's diary too, but the Reading most of all. It was bad, Immy. Real bad. I'm sorry, but I just can't talk about it. Not right now." 

"I'm sorry, sis", Imoen said, gently touching her friend's cheek. "You know…when you do want to talk about it, I'll always be ready to listen." 

Zaerini smiled faintly. "Thanks, Immy", she said. "That means more than you'll ever know." Then she paused. "Immy? I know this is a great big room, with great big beds…but I just thought…how about if we do what we used to do in Candlekeep, when one of us had a nightmare or something? I don't think either of us really wants to be alone right now."

"Sure", Imoen said, smiling back. "I think that's a great idea." That settled, both girls undressed and settled into one of the two beds, where they curled up tightly against each other. Nestled against her best friend and with Softpaws purring contentedly right next to her, it wasn't all that long before Zaerini fell asleep. And despite everything, she didn't even have any nightmares that she could remember afterwards.

The next morning the adventurers set out for the Seven Suns trading house, in the south-western part of the city. Rini had given her friends a brief summary of the contents of Sarevok's diary, concentrating on his plans for divinity and leaving out most of the personal details. Maybe her brother was her enemy, but that didn't mean she wanted to let everybody in on all his secrets. Before they could reach the Seven Suns though, a loud and insistent voice sounded behind them. 

"Why, as I live and breathe! So good to see you, my friends!" It was Aldeth Sashenstar, the noble they had encountered in the Cloakwood forest and assisted against some Shadow Druids. He was just coming out of a wealthy-looking house across the street and was beaming brightly at them. "I am so glad to have met you, especially at a time like this. I need to speak with you privately; will you listen to what I have to say?"

"How odd", Edwin remarked. "For some strange reason I get the feeling this little chat will involve a request for us to perform some dangerous task for you, getting little or no payment in return. (And in case that's not what you wanted to ask, then the answer is that I do write autographs, but you'll have to pay for one.)" 

"Let's give the man a chance, why don't we?" Zaerini said. Then she turned to Aldeth. "All right, I suppose there's no harm in listening to what you have to say. As long as you understand that we've promised nothing else yet."

"Certainly, certainly", the nobleman said. "Please, follow me. This building behind me is the Merchant's League, I'll show you inside to my office. Thank you so much." 

The Merchant's League was certainly richly decorated, Zaerini thought, in mostly various dark shades of red, and with spotless marble floors. Aldeth led them inside his office, offering some refreshments, and then chatting nervously about the weather, the recent rumours of war, and those pesky Shadow Druids.

"We have done as you asked", Jaheira eventually said. "Now I suggest you get to the point."

Aldeth cleared his throat, looking a little embarrassed. "To tell the truth, I don't know exactly what my problem is", he said. "I only know that there is one, and that it's getting worse and worse. You know that I am one of the principal shareholders of the Merchant's Consortium. Well, I share ownership of the company with two others: Irlentree and Zorl Miyar, two very distinguished gentlemen. When I returned from my hunting trip -thanks to you, I might add- I found that my two partners had gone under some profound changes, nothing physical or overt, but something far more sinister."

"Like what?" Imoen asked. 

"It's...as if my partners had become wholly different people while I was gone. They almost take an active interest in squandering our company's resources on frivolous and stupid ideas. If they continue on this course the company will be in shambles in but a few weeks. I know you have already helped me once, but I ask for your assistance again. I have no other recourse."

"Different people, eh?" Zaerini said. The images of her Reading were coming back to her. _The Two of Swords. That merchant and the doppelganger. And Sarevok's diary spoke of the same thing. Doing this would not only help out Aldeth, it would help muck up my brother's plans as well_. "I think I can guess what we may be dealing with here", she said. "Sure, we'll see what we can do."

"Thank you", Aldeth fervently said. "Thank you so much. I'll tell everybody that you're childhood friends of mine, come to visit. That should allay all suspicions." 

Rini gave her friends a long look. Two heavily armed half-elves. One friendly looking old dwarf. A pink-haired girl, very much the nobleman's junior. A Red Wizard. And then herself. "I think perhaps", she said, "That it would be better if you were to tell them that we're business associates than childhood friends. No offence meant." 

There was something eerie about the Merchant’s Consortium, Rini thought. Something heavy and oppressive in the air, just out of reach. Nothing was out in the open, but she could sense it all the same. A few of the merchants she passed in the halls seemed apprehensive, as if they too knew that something was wrong. Others smiled at her, their faces frank and guileless, and those she didn’t trust at all. _I wonder if Durlag sensed something was amiss before the attack, or if it came as a complete surprise._

The adventurers had decided to start at the top floor and work their way down, and there they found a large banquet hall. Several long tables were being set for a grand feast, and an old merchant with a silvery beard was walking along them, overseeing the work of the servants. Once he noticed Zaerini and her friends, he gave them a kindly smile. “Greetings, guests”, he said. “I must assume that you are the friends that have had Aldeth so excited. I must introduce myself: I am Irlentree, one of Aldeth's partners in business.”

“Hello”, Imoen said. “What’s the occasion?”

The old man smiled again. “The company is celebrating the anniversary of Aldeth’s stay with us. We’re planning a few interesting little surprises. And I’m certain everybody would be happy to have you join in the festivities.” 

“Oh, I’m certain you would”, Edwin said. “Would that be as starters or as the main course?”

Irlentree blinked, but there was no trace of surprise on his face. “I’m not sure what you mean to imply, my friend.” 

“Really?” Rini said. “Then I’m sure you won’t mind if me and my friend here cast some extra strong divination spells on you, will you? Just to make certain your surprises are nice ones.” 

Irlentree’s face twisted with fury, and then it rippled and changed. “You will pay for your interferenssssse!” he hissed. “Brotherssss! Attack!” Then the apparent merchant shifted form completely, into that of a hideous gray-skinned doppelganger, and so did the servants setting the tables. They were neither as strong nor as swift as the ones in Durlag’s Tower however, and they fell relatively easy. 

“So, it is as we thought”, Jaheira said. “Doppelgangers have been planted here, and Sarevok is certain to be behind this.” 

“Sh-should we tell Aldeth r-right now?” Khalid asked. 

Zaerini shook her head. “Let’s check out Zorl first and see if we can find any evidence pointing at Sarevok. Anything we can present against him will be bound to be helpful.” 

“Lass?” Yeslick said, sounding a little confused. “I be wonderin’ about something.”

“Yes?”

“Well, neither ye nor the wizard are really diviners, are ye?”

The bard grinned. “Nope. But the doppelganger didn’t know that. And if he’d accepted, then we’d have known he was innocent.” 

There was a private bar on the second floor, where several merchants sat quietly discussing business. Zorl was among them, middle-aged and somewhat rotund man, with sharp and intelligent eyes. “He used to come here all the time”, the bartender complained. “But now he hardly ever drinks anything. You’d think he didn’t trust my wares anymore.” Rini gave the merchant a long look. He was sitting deeply sunk into an armchair, seemingly deep in thought. Behind him was a passage leading deeper into the building. “What’s back there?” she asked the bartender, giving him her best smile. “Extra beer?”

“No, no”, the man said, smiling back. “Just master Zorl’s private office, that’s all.”

“Oh dear. How disappointing.” 

Once the friends had acquired this information it was decided that their best course of action would be for Imoen to try to get into Zorl’s office unnoticed and search it. The thief readily agreed to this, and sometime later she returned, grinning triumphantly. “He’d hidden them in a secret compartment in his desk”; she said and held up three letters. “Check them out. Looks like somebody has been keeping busy.” 

Rini read the letters through, not particularly surprised by their contents. 

_Shalak,  
I am glad to hear that you were successful in disposing of Zorl. With his identity you should be able to infiltrate more of your kindred into the Merchant's League. Kill Irlentree as soon as possible and then that fop Aldeth._

_Your Friend_

_Shalak,  
As long as Aldeth lives he is a great threat to all of us. He is friends with the mercenaries who have been stirring up so much trouble in the south. If he were to confide his fears with them, it could be disastrous. Kill him, soon!_

_Your Friend_

_Shalak,  
It pleases me that you now count Irlentree among your number, but you must kill Aldeth Sashenstar. He is a foppish dilettante, with no skill and little intellect. It confuses me that you have not killed him yet; have your skills withered? Write back soon - when you have killed Aldeth._

_Your Friend._

“So that’s the way of it”, Edwin said. “Aldeth ought to be interested in hearing this.”

Rini nodded. “Oh yes”, she said. “And Big Brother appears to be getting impatient. I vote we try our best to really annoy him now.” 

“We should bring this letter to Aldeth immediately”, Jaheira said. “Once he gets a few loyal guards here this matter should be easily dealt with.” 

The bard smiled, her eyes glittering with mischief. “Sure it would”, she said. “But that wouldn’t be nearly as much fun.” She walked up to ‘Zorl’. “Hello there”, she said. “May I ask you a question, in the name of science?”

“What?”

“Well, I was just wondering…if a doppelganger should die while in another form, will it turn back to its own shape after death or not?”

The pretend-merchant started rising from his chair. “Who are…” And that was as far as he got before a Flame Arrow hit him in the throat, instantly killing him. _What do you know_ , Zaerini thought as she watched the gray creature slumped at her feet. _Looks like they do shift back after all. Just as I thought I remembered it from Gorion’s stories._ Then she got very busy as the rest of the merchants in the room dropped their pretense of humanity as well and attacked. 

“Are you insane?” Jaheira said once it was all over. “What was the point of that?”

Rini shrugged. “We knew what he was, didn’t we? Why waste a lot of time dragging guards into this when we could handle it ourselves?”

“But you did not even pause before slaying him!”

“So? We needed him dead, and we needed to find out how many other merchants were fake ones. And we did. Mission accomplished and Aldeth will be as pleased as Sarevok will be aggravated. Why would I give ‘Zorl’ a chance to retaliate? I would have tried to get him from across the room if I hadn’t wanted him to get up so I could aim better.” 

Edwin nodded. “You have the right of that”, he said, giving her an approving look. “If you have an advantage, you should always use it. Chivalry is a fairly useless trait when it comes to survival, but a very valuable one in an enemy. (Before he has finished presenting you with a formal challenge you will already have killed him, plundered him of his valuables and chopped his bleeding heart up for spell components.)” 

Rini sighed. “This was the easy part though. This is only a minor trading house, and the doppelgangers here won’t be the most powerful ones my brother has at his disposal. I have a feeling there’ll be many more false faces in our immediate future, and not all of them as easily seen through as these ones.” 

The Seven Suns trading house was a large, sober-looking building close by the Merchant’s League. Zaerini gave it a long look, pondering the best way to get inside. She’d be greatly surprised if the place didn’t turn out to be stuffed to the roof with doppelgangers, and she felt the need to formulate some sort of strategy. There was a pretty fountain close by, but away from the main street, surrounded by white marble benches and sweet-smelling flowers, and she sat down, hoping that the sound of the tinkling water would help soothe her and make her think better. The doppelgangers in the Merchant’s League had been dealt with, and Aldeth Sashenstar had been very grateful and offered a magical sword in return. She had a feeling this next job would be more difficult though.

“So”, she said to her friends. “Anybody got an idea about how to handle this?” 

“Whatever we do, we should do it quickly”, Jaheira said. “Soon enough Sarevok will learned about the events at the Merchant’s League, and then he will put a stronger guard here.” 

“We could always arrange for some sort of disguise”, Edwin suggested. “Some sort of false identities. As merchants, perhaps.” 

Rini thought about this for a moment. “That would take time to do properly though, and as Jaheira says we don’t know how much time we have.” Then her eyes lit up, sparkling with mischief. “But I have another idea. I can always use my cat form to sneak inside. That way the doppelgangers won’t suspect a thing, and I can find out exactly what’s going on inside, and even let you guys in. It should be easy.” 

Zaerini hadn’t known exactly what she expected her friends’ reaction to be. But what she hadn’t expected was for Edwin to practically leap to his feet, his face quite pale. “WHAT?” he practically screamed. “Are you insane? You can’t do that! Suppose they catch you? Suppose they hurt you? Suppose they…they kill you?” He had grasped her hand by now and was clutching it so hard that it was starting to hurt a little, and his dark eyes were wide with fear and anger. 

“Edwin, calm down!” the bard said, more than a little taken aback. “I’ll be perfectly fine.” 

“Ha! Yes, that’s what you would say, isn’t it? Seems I’ve heard that one before. And then you’ll probably climb into the lap of Sarevok himself to…to steal food from his plate or something equally suicidal. (One is quite bad enough. I’m not having her stick her head in a noose too.) No. You’re not going anywhere without me, I will not allow it.” 

Rini had got to her feet now as well. She was practically nose-to-nose with the Red Wizard, and she felt her mouth twisting into a snarl. “What was that you said about not allowing me something? Have I become your slave all of a sudden? Or your pet? Do you see a leash and collar around my throat?” 

“Don’t be ridiculous!”

“Oh, now I’m ridiculous, am I? And how were you planning to stop me from doing what I want? Tying me up? Putting a spell on me, maybe?”

“Well, I might. Assuming there was a spell to keep people from acting as if they have a latent death wish.”

“Oh, you’re a fine one to talk! And if you ever tried such a thing, I’d smack you straight into next week, just so you know.” 

“Oh really?”

“Yes, you red-robed, interfering, aggravating idiot!” 

“Why you…you ungrateful, pig-headed, willful vixen!” 

“Posturing puff-fish!” 

“Hapless hazard-seeker!”

“Meddler!” 

“Brat!”

It was at this moment that Imoen cleared her throat loudly. “Um…guys?” she said. “You may want to continue this later.” 

The bard and the Red Wizard broke off in mid argument; tearing themselves away from the intense and smoldering mutual glare they were sharing in order to give Imoen a confused look. Then, to their chagrin, they noticed that they had attracted a certain audience. A large crowd had formed around the fountain and was watching them intently, and there was even a disreputable man selling pieces of anonymous meat in hot buns, as well as several probable pickpockets working the crowd. 

A small child of indeterminate age and gender was at the front of the crowd, watching them owlishly out of a grubby face. “Are you gonna kill each other?” it solemnly asked, sounding very expectant. 

“Of course they aren’t!” said a larger child who was probably an older sister. “They’re gonna kiss and make up, you’ll see. That is so romantic…” 

“Eeeeewwwww!” 

Rini felt herself flushing furiously, and she could see that Edwin was in a similar state, too stunned to produce more than small and half-strangled noises. _Please, oh please just let me sink through the ground right now. Or get struck by lightning. Anything but this._

_What’s the problem?_ Softpaws asked. _Everybody knows that courting is supposed to be noisy, public and involve some hissing and spitting before getting down to business_. 

“Go on dearies!” cried a friendly-looking matron a little further into the crowd, her eager voice echoing the candid images sent by the amused familiar. “Don’t keep us waiting!” 

Jaheira shot the mass of people an annoyed look. “That will be quite enough”, she said. “The show is over. Go on, everybody. There is nothing to see here. Move along.” Thankfully enough, there was something about her voice and the look in her eyes that made the crowd disperse, despite a certain amount of grumbling. “There you go, children”, she told Zaerini and Edwin. “They will not bother you again. But please try to keep your voices down a little. We do not want the guards arresting you for disturbing the peace.” 

Rini gave Edwin a look. He was still looking highly embarrassed, but he no longer seemed angry. “I…may have overreacted just a little bit”, he grudgingly admitted. “Though you should not ignore the analyses offered by my massively developed intellect, one might argue that I could have presented my arguments more effectively if I hadn’t attempted to issue direct orders.”

_And that’s likely as much of an apology as I’m going to get_. “I don’t mind you worrying”, the half-elf quietly told the wizard. “Quite…quite the opposite. But I won’t allow you to order me about. You can come with me you know, as long as you can stay out of sight. All you really had to do was to ask.” 

Something about the simultaneously relieved and befuddled look in the wizard’s eyes made her feel as if her heart was melting inside her chest. _That is so…so…so absolutely adorable._

“I…I can?” Edwin asked. “Oh. Well. It…it just so happens that I have a spell of invisibility handy, actually…” 

“Can I come too?” Imoen asked. “You’ll need me you know; in case you need to open any locks.”

“Sure”, Rini said. “But the rest of you better wait here.”

“I do not like this”, Jaheira protested. “We should be there to protect you.” 

“We’ll manage. And if something should go wrong, we’ll make certain to be noisy enough to alert you…”

Getting inside the Seven Suns proved relatively simple. The guard in the entry hall looked up when he heard a faint noise at his feet, and then snorted with annoyance at the sight of a bright red cat watching him. Cursing he kicked out at the animal, but the cat swiftly darted out of the way and deeper into the building. For a moment the guard considered following. But that would mean leaving the door unguarded, and it wasn’t as if the beast could do any serious harm. Then he frowned a little. The door was just a little bit ajar. Probably it had been the wind. 

Rini’s initial general impression of the Seven Suns was one of marble. Vast and cold marble floors, and wide marble pillars. Merchants could be glimpsed here and there, going about their business, and their quiet voices turned into whispering echoes beneath the tall roof. She quietly slipped along the walls, keeping out of sight, following Softpaws’ lead. She was getting more acquainted with being a cat, but her familiar was after all born as one and knew how to move about unseen. Imoen was doing a fine job of keeping to the shadows as well, and as for Edwin he was of course completely invisible. Zaerini constantly worried that he wasn’t keeping up and he’d almost tripped over her twice since she kept going back to check. Eventually they found a staircase leading down, and they followed it into deeper darkness. What they found below was a small prison, traditionally dark and damp, with a few cramped cells. The guards were a bit more unconventional though. Doppelgangers, two of them. They were standing in front of one of the cells, and inside Rini could glimpse a human shape. 

_If he’s a prisoner of the doppelgangers, then he’s a potential ally_ , she thought. _We should try to get him out. Besides, I don’t like prisons._

Softpaws’ green eyes shone eagerly in the darkness. _Come then, kitten. Now we hunt._

Both cats crept along the walls, and then got onto one of the tall chests standing near the wall. Then, once they were close enough, they leapt. Rini hadn’t really fought that much in cat form, but it seemed her body instinctively knew what to do. Sharp claws buried themselves in the doppelgangers silver eyes and raked deep furrows in its gray face amidst a frenzy of hissing and spitting, and her familiar was doing the same. The doppelganger flailed its arms up, trying to tear her off, but it was already half blind, and she easily leapt out of reach. Then one of the two shapechangers sagged to the floor, its throat cut cleanly through by Imoen’s blade, even as an Acid Arrow cast by the suddenly visible Edwin took out the other one. 

The bard changed back into her own shape in time to see Imoen picking the lock of the dungeon cell. The man inside was thin and looked rather ill, and he had clearly been abused recently. Still, he hadn’t been broken, for there was still a look of defiance in his eyes. “More of you?” he spat. “Fighting among yourselves now, are you? No matter. Kill me if you must and be done with it.” 

“We aren’t doppelgangers!” Imoen hastily assured him. “We’re going to let you out.” 

“Ha! And why should I believe you? I saw what you just did. You are shapeshifters, same as they.” 

“Look”, Rini said. “It would be way too complicated to explain everything. But I’m really not a doppelganger, honestly. Scar sent us here, to search for somebody named Jhasso.” 

The man’s eyes lit up eagerly. “Scar sent you? Could it be? Is my torment really ending? I am Jhasso, and I am the leader of the Seven Suns. Those creatures, the shape shifters, started infiltrating the Seven Suns some months ago. They must have started with some of the less important members of my coster. Eventually they captured me, and their leader took my face. They've been keeping me alive in order to gain information that they need through torture. I don't know what their purpose is, but they have been running my business very badly. All of you will be well rewarded for rescuing me. When you meet Scar again, he will give you my reward. I must be off now, as there is much of the monsters work to be undone. I assume you've dealt with the other monsters upstairs; if you haven’t, I'll get the Flaming Fist to clear out the rest. It'll probably be weeks before we can clean out their stench.”

“Actually, we came straight down here”, Imoen said. “Are you sure you’ll be able to get out all right?”

“Oh, certainly.” Jhasso moved to one of the chests, unlocking it. “A potion of invisibility should help with that. I thank you again, friends.” He waved at them and disappeared from sight. 

It was then that Zaerini spotted the inherent flaw of their plan. “Edwin?” she said. “Do you have any more invisibility spells memorized?”

“No”, the wizard said. “Why do you…” He turned his head and noticed the two dead doppelgangers on the floor. “…ask? Oh.” His face fell as he realized the implications.

_Blast! There are likely tons of doppelgangers upstairs, and he’ll stand out like a Red Dragon at a dancing lesson. They can’t help but notice him_. Her mouth set into a very determined expression that Gorion would have known spelt trouble for anyone obstructing her way. _Well, I won’t let them hurt him. Not them, not anybody. And whoever tries is going to be very sorry, be it doppelgangers or Elminster himself._

Edwin had frequently wondered what it would be like to have a familiar of his own. An intelligent and loyal creature, deeply devoted to him, committed to assisting him with his magic. Not that he needed any assistance as such of course, not the brightest wizard of his generation, no of all generations. But it would be nice, all the same. Still, that extremely unfortunate incident with the monkey when he was a child had rather turned him off animals, at least when it came to having one of his own. You never knew what the ‘Find Familiar’ spell might saddle you with. Suppose he got a…a snail for a familiar? Or a toad? No wizard worth the name would have a toad. A cat might be nice, however, like Zaerini had. 

Edwin turned his head slightly, to watch the animal perched on his shoulder. The black cat gave him a calm look and adjusted her balance a little. Certainly, she was a beautiful creature. But it was the cat sitting on his other shoulder that really occupied his thoughts. The flame-red cat with the burning golden eyes and the mischievous expression on her face. For some reason his skin felt very hot wherever her dainty paws touched him, and when her soft fur accidentally brushed against his cheek, he found it very difficult to concentrate. He suddenly recalled that time when she had just achieved her cat form for the first time, and he had come across her accidentally and…well…petted her. _Don’t think about it. Just don’t think about it. And especially don’t think about if her skin would be as soft as her fur and if she’d…_

“You ready?” Imoen whispered out of the shadows. 

“What?” Edwin said. “Oh. Yes. Let’s go then.” The plan they had formulated might not be perfect, but it was the best they had been able to come up with. There was obviously no way that Edwin could sneak out beneath the noses of the doppelgangers upstairs, even if Imoen and the cats could. Instead it had been decided that they should try a bluff. _I can do this_ , Edwin thought as he strode up the stairs. _I can._ The red cat gave him an encouraging nudge with her nose, and he opened the dungeon door to emerge into the central hall of the Seven Suns. 

The marble-clad grand hall seemed to be crawling with merchants, far more than had been present when the three adventurers descended into the dungeon. Edwin had the uncomfortable feeling that if they were investigated closely these ‘merchants’ would turn out to be anything but human. They were far too quiet for one thing, only the occasional whisper could be heard from the tightly packed groups of people, and he got the distinct impression that they were communicating on some other level entirely. Still, he had no choice but to go on, doppelgangers or not. 

Edwin drew himself up to his full height and fixed the assembled crowd with his most arrogant stare, remembering something his mentor had told him about situations like this one. _If you cannot be inconspicuous, it sometimes helps to act as if you own the place. Often people will be too intimidated to dare ask any questions_. “Well?” Edwin sneered. “Why are you all standing around like brain-damaged sheep? I’m certain your Master must have set you some other task than staring at me, captivating as the sight of a Great Wizard no doubt is. Now close your mouths and try acting as if you actually are capable of independent thought.”

The merchants all turned as one, an eerily simultaneous movement as if they were all puppets guided by a single hand. “Who are you?” one of them asked, a creature whose face looked like that of a fat and balding man with a freckled scalp. Edwin had a strong feeling that face was as false as the ‘gold’ chain around his neck though. 

“You dare question the Great Wizard?” he went on, sounding as haughty as he could. “Impudent louse! You are unworthy of even breathing the same air that I exhale, and most certainly of tainting it with your uncouth words. Our Master has commanded me to oversee the work you are doing here, and so far, I am not pleased.” He started walking the length of the hall, passing through the ranks of the assembled doppelgangers, an ominous scowl on his face. _Wish I had a spell to make my robes billow impressively behind me, but so far it seems to be working anyway_. “Slackness!” he said. “Disorder! Appalling disregard of common procedure! Well, there will be a change around here, and soon. The Master will soon be coming here personally to check on you, and he’s given me full authority to whip you into shape.” _Now let’s just hope they have a Master. But of course they do. Their kind always does._

“But I don’t understand…” one of the ‘merchants’ tried.

“And that is exactly your problem”, Edwin snapped. “You don’t understand much of anything, do you? I’d say that a simple recitation of the alphabet would be quite beyond you as well, and here’s a hint: The alphabet is not something you can eat. (Nor is it a rude practice performed by perverted people and involving lard, three small sticks and a dead monkey).” Keeping up a steady string of insults to numb the minds of his audience, the Red Wizard carefully edged his way towards the front door, trying not to be too obvious about it. Just a little bit further now…The black cat and the red cat were clinging to his shoulders, their eyes sweeping the crowd for hostile moves. Imoen presumably was somewhere behind and out of sight. 

It was then that Edwin felt the Presence. A cold brush against his mind, clinical and detached, without open malice. Unable to help himself, he turned around. There was a woman standing at the top of the stairs. A very unremarkable woman, her age indeterminate, she had mousy hair and pale eyes set in a plain face. Nobody would have picked her out of a crowd. Nobody would even have looked at her twice. That was exactly the point. Edwin had never really received practice with divination spells, but all the same he could tell that there was obviously something very wrong about this woman. That sensation, that Presence, that had been her work. 

_Hold, wizard_ , spoke a cold voice within his mind. _Hold and speak respectfully when addressing your betters_. The Red Wizard froze in his tracks, helpless to resist that soft commanding voice. And then the face of the woman melted away, and he knew just what was happening. A terrible face took the place of the plain one, a pale face dominated by a mass of writhing tentacles where the nose and mouth had been, and with a pair of large and glistening black eyes. _Mindflayer!_ His mind was screaming the word, even as he tried to free himself from the psionic command, but his muscles wouldn’t obey him. And now the creature was drifting closer, through the ranks of the doppelgangers, getting close enough to touch him. 

_A very interesting mind_ , the mindflayer said. _I must dissect it later, at my leisure. But for now, what is on the surface is enough. You oppose Sarevok, my employer. You seek his destruction, and for that you will be punished, but not until after giving up every secret you treasure._

It was telling the truth too, Edwin could tell that much. The creature fully intended to plunder his mind, and he didn’t know how to prevent it. The mindflayer was coming closer, close enough that he could almost feel the cool brush of its tentacles, and now the doppelgangers were stirring as well, shedding all pretense of humanity. _Open up to me now_ , the mindflayer said. _Or do you want me to remove your brain first?_

SCRRREEEAAAOOOWWWW! The bloodcurdling sound actually stopped the mindflayer in its track for a second. Then it became very occupied with a face full of red cat, trying to tear its tentacles out. The added presence of a second cat clinging to its hand with its fangs buried deeply in its flesh did nothing for its presence of mind, and Edwin could feel himself slowly returning to normal. Unfortunately, the doppelgangers were also charging by now, rushing to the aid of their leader. Edwin just about managed to free himself in time to send a Fireball into their ranks, scattering many and killing some. 

Zaerini was still in cat form, and this seemed to be confusing the mindflayer since it couldn’t get a good grip on her mind. She was still making those hideous screeching and spitting noises, and there were tiny bits of tentacle flying in the air. But now the mindflayer, weakened though it was, managed to get a grip on her and tore her off, flinging her against the wall. The red cat shuddered briefly and then was still. 

Edwin wasn’t quite clear on what happened after that. There was the vague impression of heat, within and without, and of somebody screaming. Imoen? And the heat was rushing through him, he could feel the magic raging like a storm in his blood, and the world seemed to narrow until there was just the one thing in front of him. The mindflayer. Blocking his way, preventing him from getting to the cat. That couldn’t be allowed. The red haze was rising again, and now magic was the furthest thing from his mind imaginable. _Kill. Destroy. Now._

He was past the mindflayer, and he couldn’t say how, though he could see that his staff had been broken clear through, and the jagged end was covered with black blood. It didn’t matter. Only one thing in the world mattered. He knelt on the floor by the red cat, as the black one frantically tried to rouse her companion, and he picked the animal up, clutching her to his chest. He absentmindedly noted that the fur still felt as silky soft as he remembered it, despite being stained with blood here and there. “No…” he heard somebody saying in a hollow voice. “No…” Is that I? It can’t be.

There were still sounds of battle around, muted to a dim roar. Screams of dying doppelgangers. The crunch of a dwarven battle-hammer meeting a skull. Jaheira shouted something. _So, they did come. But they came too late_. He was stroking the red fur by now, again and again, as if by doing so he could make her wake up. And still there was that annoying moaning in the background. _Can’t they make whoever that is shut up? She needs her rest. I’ll kill them if they don’t leave her alone._

“Edwin?” Was that Imoen’s voice? “What happened?”

_I killed her. That’s what happened. All my fault_. “She…she was trying to help me”, he whispered, hardly recognizing his own voice. “That mindflayer…she was trying to aid me. She wouldn’t even have been in danger in the first place if not for…and now she…she is dead.” 

And then Edwin started with surprise as the cat in his arms shuddered and twisted, and then grew. Within a few seconds he was holding a bruised, battered, bleeding, but very much alive half-elf in his arms, her head buried against his shoulder and his chin resting in her red hair. “Eddie…” the bard whispered. “You’re the world’s best wizard you know…but you’re a lousy physician.”

“What…but…how…?” The Red Wizard knew that he was stammering like an idiot, and quite frankly he did not care. He was far too busy clinging to the girl he was holding, trying to reassure himself that he wasn’t dreaming, and she seemed equally reluctant to let go. 

“Was just…stunned. Not…quite dead.” Zaerini twisted around to spit out a small piece of tentacle. “Phew. That…tastes awful! Never did like…squid.” 

Jaheira was rapidly approaching now, a very determined look on her face, and Yeslick looked equally frantic as he was pushing aside dead doppelgangers in order to get to his patient. Edwin estimated that they would only have a few moments more of peace before having to answer awkward questions. “Well, you _looked_ dead”, he said. “Could you please try not to die anytime soon? I…I would hate that. Um…that is…if there was a funeral, I’d have to wear black, and I’d feel really strange doing that, not that I wouldn’t look stunning in it of course, but it’s a matter of habit you see and…” 

At this point Edwin felt all his conscious thoughts immediately shut down as the half-elf briefly reached up to brush her lips against his. It wasn’t a particularly long kiss, and he couldn’t really blame her for it, since she seemed about to become unconscious again, and there was a faint aftertaste of squid, but he hardly noticed. All he could think of was the way her touch seemed to make tiny tongues of flame shoot down his spine, and that led him to the subject of tongues in general, and that…

“Shut up, Eddie”, Zaerini said with a faint smile. And he did.


	53. The Enemies Unseen

**In The Cards 53 – The Enemies Unseen**

_No matter how dangerous the enemy confronting you may be, the greatest enemy will always be the unknown one. The poison in your midst, the blade out of the darkness, the trap set in your path. Pray for your enemy to cross your path, for it is the ones striking at your back that you truly need to fear. Beware the faces hiding behind masks and the secret grudge._

_Excerpt from ‘Ruminations Of A Master Bard’_

“Are you occupied, my brother?” The woman asking this question would be called beautiful by anybody’s terms, but hardly in the common sense. Her short black hair formed a wild cloud around her proud face, and she moved with the effortless grace of a born predator. So pale her skin was, as pale as newly fallen snow, but her lips were the pure red of fresh blood. She smiled faintly, and white teeth shone against those lips, teeth that were just a little bit too long and too sharp. The woman cocked her head to one side, leaning against the door as she watched the scene taking place before her with the faintest hint of amusement in her black eyes. _Yes. I can still feel that…if I make the effort. A pale ghost of what it was, and yet…it is better than nothing._

There was a bitter smell in the air, almost electrical, with the faint undercurrent of pain. Yes. Sweet, sweet pain. And blood, but all wrong. Not the real thing. The smell came from the woman-creature tied to the table in the center of the room. In large glass containers along the walls replicas of that same woman shimmered and twisted, as they grew with exaggerated speed from infancy into full size. Some of them were still immature, others were fully formed. Some watched mutely with large and glittering eyes through the green liquid that nurtured them and kept them alive. Others merely floated, staring blankly ahead of them. One seemed to be screaming, a thin trail of bubbles streaming from between her shapely lips, and that the pale woman at the door liked best of all. _Pity it is not the real one. What I would not give to hear that one scream. My very soul even_. She laughed quietly to herself, enjoying the low and throaty sound, as well as the pleasant tingle in her teeth as she envisioned such a scene. 

It seemed the sound disturbed her brother, for he looked up from his work. The woman-creature on the table shuddered silently. She had once been beautiful. If one squinted a little and tried to look past the blood and the mutilations it was almost possible to see it still. The sounds she made resembled those of a dying animal. 

“You are late,” her brother said, his modulated voice betraying but the faintest hint of annoyance. Behind the exquisite mask he always wore his eyes were a deep blue, like icy pools. She had always loved the color of his eyes. Like the little spring beneath the waterfall in the Queen’s garden. Of course, she did not love them any longer, or anything else. She could not. But she was still able to take a small amount of pleasure in seeing them, as well as his regal and muscular form, or the absorption with which he approached his work. He had always been exceptionally good at focusing on what needed to be done. 

“I stopped to dine on the way,” the woman flippantly said, wiping at her mouth. “A young Cowled Wizard. They are always exquisite; I think the magic in their blood adds something to the taste. I may make a habit of it.” She nodded towards the creature on the table. “Still trying, I see?”

Her brother shrugged and put down the long knife he was holding. “I had thought that seeing her in agony might be enough to stir some emotion within me,” he said, his voice as icy calm as was the mask he wore. “It seems I have failed. I must seek another avenue of experimentation, and soon.” 

“Fortunate that we have another prey in sight,” the woman said. She picked the knife up and her pink tongue darted out to delicately lick the blood off. “Phaugh! It tastes nothing like the real thing.” 

“I have told you that before.”

“I know. I just pretend that it is her blood, you know that.” The black-haired woman touched her brother’s arm. “Do you ever regret not following my path?”

Her brother simply looked at her. “You should know, my sister, that I cannot feel true regret. How goes your work?”

“Excellently. My agents’ numbers increase day by day, eating into the heart of the Shadow Thieves like a worm burrowing into a ripe apple.”

“And the other one? Your…special project?”

The woman laughed again. “The sweet man…he is utterly enchanted by me. Soon, very soon, he will be ready to meet you.” 

Her brother nodded. “That is well. I have been scrying more intensively as of late. Events are progressing up north. Soon, within the next few weeks, the two Children will be at each other’s throats. And as the victor steps away from the other’s bloody corpse, we will be there.”

“Which one do you think will win? The man or the woman?”

Keen interest flared in those cold blue eyes. “It is difficult to say for certain, contrary to what I would previously have believed. But either one will do.” He smiled briefly. “They both burn brightly. Very brightly.” 

The creature on the table moaned again, a terrible keening sound. 

“Can you not get rid of her?” the pale woman said with a frown and put her hands across her ears. “She is annoying me.” 

“Certainly,” her brother calmly said. “As I said, this experiment was a failure. It is well past time to prepare for another one.” And the knife stabbed down. 

_Elsewhere…_

The woman knelt in her quarters, thinking. The day’s tasks were done, and it was time for her to commune with her Mistress. _Again. And again. For centuries, millennia, if that is what it will take to regain her favor._ Slowly she shrugged the soft white dress off of her delicate shoulders, flexing them. The scars hurt, and that was as it should be. It was a tribute to her Mistress. Then the whip was in her hand, and she began with her devotions, one methodical lash at a time. Not hard enough to draw blood. That was for later, for when her prayers were almost ended. For now, the pain was enough. Sharp and searing, it made her feel truly alive. 

Whip.

_My Mistress of Pain, I know I have failed You. I allowed myself to be outwitted, overpowered, and humiliated. It is just that You have punished me by turning Your face from me. I am a lowly worm, an insect, fit only to grovel on the ground at Your feet._

Whip.

_But I beg of You, My Mistress, allow me to serve You once more. I am devoted to You, as always, You must know that. Take me back into Your favor and I will bring pain and vengeance to those who would stand in Your way. Allow me my vengeance upon those who brought me low and You will see that my skills have not withered, though You have withheld the powers that only You can grant._

Whip.

_When my people, the Avariel, turned from me, denied me the opportunity to prove myself in their service, You were there for me, and I have served You faithfully since. You are my true Mother, unlike the bitch that bore me and judged me as ‘too ambitious’, that never approved of me. You do not value the meekness that I never had and never wanted, You gave me power instead. I made the greatest sacrifice possible for You, all for you._

Whip. 

_When I gave up my beautiful white wings, when I severed them with my own hands in Your name, it was the greatest pain imaginable, and I rejoiced in it, for I knew that it pleased You and would grant me Your favor. Yet now my pain is greater still, as I am truly crippled without Your powers. If You take pleasure in that pain, it gladdens my heart, but I could serve You far better were I restored to my full ability._

Whip. 

Now there was the first feeling of hot blood running down her back. She should stop now, the woman knew. Yet this time she did not. Instead she lashed out again, and again, until the pain became a white spear through her mind, a red cloud of blood. “Loviatar…” she whispered, her large blue eyes dim with pain, and her golden locks sticky with swear and blood. “My Mistress…hear me.” 

The air of the dwelling seemed to turn hotter, to solidify, and then there was something else present, a second womanly form, one of flickering shadows and running blood. **I hear you, my servant** , this second woman said, and in her voice were thousands of tortured screams and moans. **I have need of you, and I have decided that I will grant you what you ask, despite the delicious pleasure that your suffering has brought me. You are too valuable to waste any longer.**

“Whatever You wish of me, my Mistress,” the blonde elf-woman said, bowing deeply before her goddess, her soft voice breathy with excitement. “How may I serve You?”

**As you have ever served me, my priestess. By spreading pain and suffering. Great events are coming to pass. Tell me, my priestess. Do you know of the prophecies of Alaundo?**

“The Bhaalspawn prophecies? Yes, my Mistress. I am familiar with them. “

**I have been able to divine some of the future regarding one of those spawn, a powerful one. That Spawn will be coming south soon, to the city of Athkatla. Much pain awaits that one, and that is why my powers made be able to see this. You must travel there as well and be prepared to follow my further orders. Leave this place…and find somebody to convey you safely to where you need to be. You can do that, can you not?**

The blonde woman smiled radiantly. “Of course, my Mistress. I am as skilled as I ever was, and you know I was always good at making people trust me. I shall find some sorry fool to carry out my bidding. “ She laughed, a silver tinkling laugh as of falling ice crystals. “So gullible, these short-lived ones. Particularly the human males. It seems to be an inborn weakness in them. My wide and innocent eyes, my fine hair, my soft skin, my soft voice, my timid demeanor…it makes them want to protect me, as if I was some weak little girl. Hardly any of them stop to consider that I am an elf and was old when their grandmothers were still unborn. Why, I am past 300 already, and yet they make the same mistake over and over again, thinking me some naïve little girl to be protected from the brutal world. Fools, all of them! They see what they want to see, not what is truly there.” Then her face darkened. “That is… most of them.” 

**Yes…not quite all of them, isn’t that so, my priestess? There was one rather notable exception about two decades ago, wasn’t there?**

There was a swirling motion in the shadows surrounding the image of the goddess, and an unmistakable human shape strode out of them, facing the priestess with a condescending sneer. 

The elf’s nails were digging deeply into her palms now and her pink rosebud of a mouth was twisted into a feral snarl. “That…that bastard! He humiliated me, he destroyed my plans, and I will have the vengeance I swore then. One way or another.” 

**And soon the time for that will come, my priestess. Hear my words. The power of Bhaal will be a great asset to whoever can claim it, but it remains locked within these Children, these Bhaalspawn. Ao the Overfather has forbidden us gods to act directly against the Spawn, so the prophecies will not be disturbed. But he cannot forbid me to grant my loyal priestess information, information to aid her in her own personal scheme of vengeance. I am the Goddess of Vengeance as well as of Pain, after all. And if the vengeance you crave should also indirectly cause devastation and death to one certain powerful Bhaalspawn, allowing me to harness her powers…then that is merely a fortunate side-effect**. The goddess smiled, a beautiful and terrible smile, and the image she had conjured dissolved into the shadows again with a scream. **I promise you this, Cirindaeriella my priestess. You will get your chance at vengeance against the one you hate so much.**

“Thank you, My Mistress,” the elf said, an ecstatic smile on her face. “And the little whelp too?” 

**Yes, my priestess. Though the whelp has grown somewhat since last you saw him.**

“So much the better,” Aerie said, still smiling at her goddess. “Then he will be able to withstand all that much more pain…” 

_And yet elsewhere…_

There were two women having tea, sitting together in an elegant room. This wouldn’t have been strange in itself, if not for the fact that the tea service floated serenely in midair, and that enchanted gems hung in the air as well, spreading rainbow-colored light. Invisible harps played a soft tune, sweet and haunting, but with an ever-present note of sorrow. 

“I must say, my dear,” said one of the women. “Your slaves really have outdone themselves this season.” 

“They are not slaves,” the second woman said, and though her voice was calm there was steel beneath. “They are my devoted subjects, as well you know. And you will address me with the respect I am due.” She was a fairly young woman, but the absolute conviction with which she spoke made her sound older than her years, as did her regal manners, those of one born to rule. An intricate gathering of brown braids framed her alabaster face, and her eyes were serene. Though her dark blue dress was beautiful and rich, she paid it little attention. It was her due and her duty, and that was all. 

“Of course,” the other woman said, seemingly respectful. “My apologies, great lady. I forgot myself.”

“Did you, Melissan? I wonder.” The woman with the braids took another sip from her teacup. “As I wonder at your motives.” 

“I wish you only the best, great lady. You should know that. The threats against you are great, there are so many evil ones that would bring your benevolent reign to an end.” 

“There, at least, we are in agreement,” the brown-haired woman said in a dry voice. “Very well. I will listen to your suggestions. But I warn you now, I fully intend for order, righteousness and goodness to rule my people, now and forever, under my gentle guidance. And I am the _Oluanna_ , the Chosen One. I have the power to do as I say, and I will not stand for the corruptions of evil to pollute the world much longer. Soon, very soon, there must be a cleansing.” 

The woman called Melissan smiled. “That, great lady, is precisely what I am counting on.” 

_Meanwhile, in Baldur’s Gate…_

Despite the healing supplied by Jaheira and Yeslick, Zaerini still felt pretty much exhausted after the run-in with the Mindflayer and all the doppelgangers. She decided that once she had reported back to Scar it would probably be a good idea to rest a little while and get some lunch. Besides, she needed some time to think about a certain Red Wizard. 

_I kissed him! And it was…well…Wow! Just…wow!_

_Eloquently put, kitten_ , Softpaws said as she silently padded at the side of her mistress. _So what does that tell you?_

_Softy…I think I may be in love with him._

_Oh well done! And…?_

_And I hope he feels the same way. I really, really, really do. I mean, he likes me, I can tell that much. But loving is a different story, and he hasn’t said as much yet._

_Well, neither have you._

_I know, I know. But I will, I promise. I’ll just try to figure it all out first, and then…once we’re done with Sarevok and I can think about the future again…I’ll tell him then. I promise. I really will. Oh Softy! I think…I think it’s all going to work out after all. He’s clever, and funny, and really very attractive. And there’s something about his voice that makes me go all squishy inside. And we have a lot in common too. It just feels so…right._

_I still think you should skip straight to the mating part_ , the cat said. 

_Softy, you really don’t understand these things. It has to take some time. Besides, he’s not going anywhere. He promised to stay with me for a year, remember? We have plenty of time._

The Flaming Fist compound was a large stone building, reminiscent of a small castle and just as heavily guarded. Still, it wasn’t the armed guards outside that attracted Rini’s attention as she stepped up to the door. Rather it was the small gnome who was standing on a barrel at the street-corner, apparently preaching. He was waving his clay pipe about animatedly and speaking in a very loud and very shrill voice, to the great amusement of the jeering crowd surrounding him. 

“Tiax speaks, insignificant insects!” the little man shouted. “Hear his mighty words ROLLING over his lips like thunder! He waves his hand and cities fall! He blinks, and the fire from his eyes sets forests ablaze! He breaks wind, and storms ravage the land and the sea! Tiax will soon rule ALL, and the all-powerful Cyric will make it so!” 

“I say we move on,” Edwin said. “The rotten turnips and apple-cores will start flying any moment now, and I’m not certain all these monkeys know how to aim properly. Some of them might hit us. (Though one can only hope that they manage to fill the mouth of that blithering idiot on the barrel.)”

“That is a very harsh thing to say,” Yeslick admonished. “That poor gnome is only trying to spread his faith, surely there is nothing wrong with that?”

“Nothing wrong? Weren’t you paying attention? That ‘poor gnome’ is a Cyricist, he’s bound to be raving mad. When he gets home, he probably puts his underwear on his head and hops around singing ‘I’m Percy the Perfect Paladin’, while building strange shapes with mashed potatoes.” 

“Ewwww!” Imoen exclaimed. “I really could have done without that image.” 

“Let’s just go”, Zaerini said. “We should go meet with Scar and I want to get out of here before the gnome…” 

“You!” the gnome suddenly shouted, pointing straight at the redheaded half-elf with an imperious hand. “Tiax would speak at you, for it is destined to be so!” 

“…notices us,” the bard went on, wincing. 

The gnome had jumped off his barrel by now and was pushing his way through the amused mass of people. “Tiax moves! Make way!” he shouted. “Or he will certainly smite thee!” Once he got close enough, he gave Rini a very disquieting stare. “Glorious Cyric has foretold of our meeting when thou wouldst join with me. 'Tis thy duty...nay, DESTINY to stand by Tiax as the world kneels before him!....er...us. To this end I would travel with thee and do thy bidding. Later, however, your power shall add to mine and great Tiax will ascend to the highest office in the land. What say you? Yea or nay to the grand scheme?”

The adventurers looked at each other. “The world will kneel before you?” Jaheira asked. “You set your sights high, do you not? Perhaps you should first concentrate on trying to rebalance your mind.” 

“Ascend?” Yeslick said, sounding shocked. “You think to become a god?”

“Of course Tiax will ascend!” Tiax said, spittle flying. “Tiax knows what will surely come to be, for glorious Cyric has spoken to him. Tiax will trample everybody like ants beneath his pretty feet, but if you serve him well, he will let you be his anteaters.” 

Everybody looked at the gnome’s bare feet. The dirt beneath what were probably his toes was so ancient that it was beginning to sprout weeds. “Pretty feet?” Edwin said. “You really are delusional, aren’t you? Wait, let me guess. You probably also consider yourself tall, handsome, intelligent and charming. (Of course, my feet are perfect in shape and form. I could probably win contests with them, assuming there were beauty contests for feet. As it is, I’ll have to settle for being magnificent throughout.)” 

“Tiax is charming! Tiax is handsome! Tiax has lady gnomes chasing after him wherever he goes!”

“I can imagine,” the Red Wizard said. “They probably want to make sure you don’t molest their pigs. Incidentally, I think there may be a new civilization forming between your second and third toe on your left foot. I’m pretty sure I could see the vermin building a large wall to keep the neighboring tribes out. Oh, and look, there’s writing on top. It says ‘Tiax Is A Prat’. Isn’t that wonderfully clever?” 

For a second Tiax actually looked down, and when he raised his head again, he was faced with Edwin’s triumphant smirk. Things might have got very ugly at that point, but just as Rini prepared herself for the inevitable fight something very strange happened. Tiax’ eyes rolled back in his head until only the whites showed, and when he spoke again his voice sounded…different. No longer pompous or whiny, but somehow slick, and very much in control. “How…interesting”, he said. “So, you are the one causing all the upheaval, are you? I must say I had expected somebody taller.” 

“That’s a bit rich, coming from a gnome,” Zaerini said, feeling a disturbing crawling sensation along her skin as if something filthy was touching her. 

The thing speaking through Tiax’ mouth laughed. “Oh, that. I must admit I’m not at my most impressive at the moment, but I don’t really think you’d want me to be that. No need to make a scene. I really only wanted to take a look at you – and offer you a warning.” 

“Sh-she has no n-n-need of warnings from you!” Khalid said. “Leave h-her alone!” 

“I will, weak one. For the moment. All I want is for her to remember this – there are quite enough gods already, and there really is no need for another one. Anybody trying to muscle in on the action would do very well to remember that. Have a nice day now…” Tiax sagged against the wall to the Flaming Fist building, looking quite dazed. 

“That was seriously spooky,” Imoen said with an apprehensive look at him. “Do you suppose that the one who was talking was…”

“Cyric?” Rini said. “Don’t know. But the way my life is shaping up lately I really wouldn’t be surprised. At any rate, I don’t see why he bothered with threatening me. I’m about as likely to become a god as Tiax is. Come on now, forget him. Let’s go see Scar and tell him about those doppelgangers.” _Edwin really seemed worried about me back there. I guess he really does care. But how much does he care? He sure seemed to enjoy that kiss though…_

Scar turned out to be very grateful for the news of the doppelgangers, pleased enough that he not only paid the promised rewards but also immediately offered another job. “There are people disappearing off the streets,” he said, “and it happens every night. And I’m not simply talking about the regular crimes of the city either. This is something more. Would you be interested in looking into it?”

“We might be,” Zaerini said, “if we have the time.” 

“Excellent. Your job is really simple; all I want you to do is patrol the east of the city and find an entrance to the sewers. Perhaps you'll get lucky and find out what's been happening.”

“Hold on!” Edwin protested. “Sewers? You didn’t mention any sewers before?”

“That’s where the clues lead,” Scar said. “We found strange tracks near one sewer entrance. Is there a problem?”

“Well, yes! As in filth. Sewers are disgusting. I’ve never felt any particular desire to tromp about in them.” 

“M-maybe it won’t be that bad,” Khalid tried. “They could be n-nice sewers.”

“Excuse me? Nice sewers? Which dimension do you come from? There is no such thing as nice sewers. They’re all disgusting, and a surprising number of them has monsters living in them as well, and magical traps, and…”

“And magical treasure?” Rini innocently suggested, winking at the wizard.

“…and…magical…treasure…” A slow smile spread across Edwin’s face. “Now that I think about it, who cares about a little dirt anyway?” 

“Then it is decided,” Scar said. “I wish you all luck.” 

Lunch was taken at a small inn not far from the Flaming Fist compound, and the food wasn’t bad at all. At least Zaerini thought so, but for some reason she didn’t feel hungry at all anymore. She was far too preoccupied with trying to watch Edwin without him noticing it. Ironically enough, he was doing the same thing, which led to neither of them eating very much and both of them almost turning cross-eyed. 

“Are you going to have that?” Jaheira asked and pointed at a piece of bread. 

“Huh?” Rini said, tearing herself away from her painstaking scrutiny of the wizard’s face. _I wonder what he thinks about me? He does seem to care…but suppose he just sees me as some sort of diversion? A brief fling? Not that we’ve actually flung anything yet, but boy would I like to! And he has the sweetest eyes…and that voice…_

“I said, ‘are you going to have that’?” the druid repeated, looking highly impatient. 

“Have what?” _I wonder if perhaps I could nudge him a little beneath the table…_

“The bread!”

“What bread?” _Yes, I probably could, if I stretched my leg a little further…I wonder what his legs look like beneath that robe? They’re probably really nice…_

Jaheira practically had steam coming out of her nostrils by now. Mutely she grabbed the bread and tore into it as if it were a living creature. On the other side of the table Khalid was having problems of his own. 

“E-excuse me Edwin,” he timidly said, “but your e-elbow is on my plate.”

“Hmmm?” the wizard replied, staring across the table with a rather silly smile on his face. 

“Y-your elbow. In my f-f-food. Could you p-please…”

“Elbow…” Edwin said in an entranced voice. “Such perfect elbows…(followed by perfect arms, and perfect shoulders, and perfectly formed…)”

“Edwin! That is m-m-my hot bun!” Khalid was a bright red by now. “And why are you f-fondling it like that?”

“What?”

“My h-hot bun!”

“Nonsense. I was doing no such thing. (Yesss…so hot. So beautiful. So perfect…)”

“Look! Now you’re l-licking it! That is d-disgusting!” 

“No, I wasn’t!” Edwin said, sounding very much insulted. “I was…kissing…it…” Then he looked at the soggy piece of bread in his hand and looked highly confused. “Er…that is…is that a piece of bread? (For a minute there I could have sworn…)” 

“That d-does it!” Khalid said in a stern voice that Zaerini had never heard him use before. “As soon as we s-settle tonight you and I n-need to have a little Talk, before an accident h-happens.”

CRASH! 

Rini had managed to stretch her leg just enough to make close contact with her target. Unfortunately, her chair overbalanced and brought her toppling to the ground, and since her leg had managed to get tangled up in Edwin’s robe, he suffered a similar fate. 

Jaheira sighed loudly and put her head in her hands. “What I would not give to be able to let Gorion handle this whole madness,” she said. “Tiax was sane by comparison to you two children. Suddenly Sarevok seems the least of our problems.” 

-*-

“I wonder what it would be like to become a god,” Zaerini mused as the adventurers started walking back towards the eastern parts of the city. “What do you guys think? Think you’d manage?”

“Oh, I c-couldn’t possibly be a god,” Khalid modestly said. “I w-would certainly t-t-trip things up, and can you imagine what k-kind of damage that could cause?”

Yeslick nodded. “I serve Clangeddin,” he said, “it would be very wrong of me to attempt to join him.” 

“Oh, I think it would be lots of fun to be a goddess!” Imoen bubbled. “I could make up lots of new animals, and travel everywhere, and make the stars spell out funny jokes and…” Her face suddenly turned solemn. “…and…and make people fall in love with me forever and ever. Though I…I guess that would be wrong of me.” 

Rini surreptitiously squeezed her friend’s hand. “Jaheira?” she asked, trying to draw attention away from Imoen. “How about you?”

The druid thought about this for a second. “I suppose I could achieve many worthy things were I a goddess,” she said. Then she smiled at Khalid. “Though it would mean nothing to me in the end, were I to be forced to leave everything behind.” 

“I see. Edwin? What do you think?”

The Red Wizard looked dreamy at the prospect of divinity. “I would make a marvelous god of course,” he said. “Powerful, sublime and magnificent.” Then he frowned slightly. “I can see only one drawback, really.”

“And that is?”

“Well, I would be forced to depart my unparalleled mortal body, wouldn’t I? And it would be such a shame to deprive the adoring masses of females of it, criminal almost.” He gave the bard a hopeful look. “Really, it is the very image of perfection, I assure you. I should know, what with all the mirrors I have at home…er…that is…”

Rini grinned at him. “Glad to hear it,” she said. “I certainly wouldn’t want to die from Edwin-deprivation. Sounds like a nasty way to go, and probably really painful.” 

The wizard’s eyes lit up. “Well,” he said, “I shouldn’t think there’s any immediate risk of it, but for safety’s sake I’d better supply you with a regular dosage…” 

“Thanks, Eddie. You’re all heart…” 

The party was passing through the docks district by now, and as they drew nearer to the water, they certainly heard a desperate female voice. “Excuse me? Will you help me, please? You look like powerful people, and I am in desperate need.” The person speaking was a rather pretty blonde human woman, but fear and worry made her look older than she probably was. She was carrying a small child, a girl with soft and downy white hair. But what really drew Rini’s attention was that the baby was obviously a half-elf. There were the lightly pointed ears, the eyes that were larger than they would have been in a human child. There was something wrong though. The baby looked ill. Her skin was slightly gray, not rosy as it should have been, she was far too still and quiet, and her breath was quick and superficial. “Please,” the strange woman said again, tears rising in her eyes. “It is my baby’s life on the line. Please, help me?”

“Of course, we will,” Jaheira said. “The child is ill; I can see that much. I will be happy to heal her.”

The woman sobbed quietly. “No…no you don’t understand. Normal healing spells won’t work, I’ve already tried. The temples can do nothing. This is no simple ailment; this is a magical curse.” 

“A curse?” Zaerini asked, feeling deep revulsion. “That’s disgusting! Who would put a curse on a poor baby?” 

The woman’s face twisted in bitterness. “My husband, that’s who. The wizard Yago. My name is Brielbara, by the way.” She sobbed again and the child whimpered quietly. “You see…I made a terrible mistake. My husband was never the most attentive of men. He is hard, even cruel. So, when a charming elf started courting me I…I was weak.”

_Ouch_ , Rini thought as she watched the half-elven features of the baby. _I can see where this is leading._

“Yago was furious when the child was born a half-elf,” the woman said. “He…he left me, but not before he swore that my baby wouldn’t live past her first birthday. He put a curse on her, a terrible curse. My poor, innocent little Namara…” 

“And the child’s t-true father?” Khalid asked. “Where is h-he?”

“I don’t know! He’d left long before; I have no idea where he is. To him I was just a…a brief entertainment.”

“Where is Yago now?” Zaerini said.

“Since he left me, he has been spending all his time at the Low Lantern. It’s a whorehouse, anchored here at the docks. It’s in an old ship, you see. I was going there right now, to try to talk with him again. Please…I have some magical skill myself. Yago told me that the reversal for the curse is in his spellbook. If you can get that for me, I’m sure I could cure my Namara. Will you try?” 

The bard looked at the sleeping child. “Of course, we will,” she said, her voice tight with anger. “Only a major creep would even think of cursing a baby.” Then she thought of something. “By the way…would you grieve if Yago were to meet with an accident?”

Brielbara’s eyes turned flinty. “Nothing would please me more,” she said, “except to see my daughter well again. I will be happy to reward you for the task as well.”

“We can talk about that later,” Zaerini said. She could feel the hot flames of rage dancing inside her heart again and had to make a real effort to keep her voice calm. “Right now, I think I want to have a word with this Yago person.” 

The Low Lantern was indeed situated in an old ship, a rather entertaining disguise that Rini would probably otherwise have enjoyed. As it was, she was far too angry to pay close attention to her surroundings. She scanned the first floor rapidly, searching for a man to match the description given to her by Brielbara. There was a bar, tables, several drunken customers and a few gamblers. But no Yago. On the second floor below deck she found herself attacked by a pair of vicious madwomen, shouting something about entropy and destruction. They died fairly quickly, slain by steel and magic, and she tapped her foot impatiently while her friends quickly searched the bodies. The pair of enchanted gloves they found should prove very useful at least, as they had the power to gift the wearer with the strength of an angry ogre. Khalid put them on gratefully. 

Then the third floor, and now she was inside the brothel proper. Courtesans were sitting about here and there, chatting with their customers, and from the small enclosed booths along the walls she could hear the unmistakable sounds of others hard at work. _Gorion would likely faint if he knew I was visiting a place like this_. Some brief asking around later she was heading for the cabin Yago was renting. She didn’t know it herself, but her eyes were shining more brightly than usual, and her hair was almost standing on edge as she bared her teeth in a silent snarl. _Yago…_

Yago turned out to be rather older than his estranged wife, skinny and with white hair that practically reached his waist, as well as a long beard. He was wearing purple mage robes, very expensive-looking ones. “What in the Nine Hells are you doing in my room?” he snarled. “Get out!” 

“We’re here for the cure for the curse you placed on Brielbara’s daughter,” Zaerini said in a just barely controlled voice. “Are you going to give it to us?” 

“Ha! After the shame my slut of a wife put me through by sleeping with some elvish rogue, and even bearing his mongrel child? I hope the little brat drowns in its own vomit. The answer is an emphatic NO!” 

“Good,” the half-elf simply said, and then she wasted no more time with words. The Magic Missiles that flew from her outstretched hand should have stunned the mage into near insensibility. Should…but did not. Yago’s skin crackled and hardened, turning the lifeless gray of a living statue, and the spell didn’t even make him flinch. Khalid’s sword, the sword of the Black King, did no better, but the warrior grimly kept striking at the mage, trying to get past his defenses. By now Yago was launching an attack of his own, and a zombie, green-black and rotting, suddenly lurched towards the adventurers. Seconds later it turned around and lurched back again, repelled by the power Yeslick drew from his god. Edwin tried another Magic Missile, and this time the stone covering cracked slightly. Eventually it could no longer withstand the onslaught, and soon Yago fell, his face still holding a rather surprised look.

The dead wizard had hardly hit the floor before Zaerini was digging through his belongings, putting gold and other assorted valuables aside until she found the spellbook she was searching for. She was still breathing quickly; the fire was still rushing through her veins. She rose, the book in her hand, and she was smiling. “I liked that,” she simply said. And she meant every word. 

When Brielbara received the spellbook she was so happy that she was weeping with joy. “I can never thank you enough,” she said. “My Namara is safe, thanks to you. You have certainly earned a reward.”

Rini looked at the woman, taking notice of how threadbare her robe was, and how thin she seemed. “Never mind,” she said. “You don’t have to pay us.” She handed the mage a jingling bag of coins. “In fact, I’d like for you to have this.”

“But I couldn’t…”

“Take it for Namara then.” The half-elf shrugged. “There’s 200 gold in that bag, and it all came from Yago, so I suppose we could call it an inheritance.”

“But,” Edwin began, “Yago only had…” Then he fell silent as the bard gave him a meaningful look. “Oh. Right.” 

“Take it”, Zaerini repeated. “I’m sure you’ll find a use for it.”

Brielbara smiled and nodded hesitantly. “I’m sure I will,” she said. “Especially since Namara’s no-good father, Coran, likely won’t ever give her so much as a crust of stale bread, even if he should learn of her existence.” 

Rini could practically feel her ears prickling at that. “Coran?” she asked. “Did you say Coran?”

“Yes. Do you know him?”

The half-elf exchanged a long look with Edwin. “Ah…sort of.” _If you can count tying somebody up against a tree and smearing them with honey ‘knowing’. Not that he didn’t deserve it._

“Well, if you meet him, let him know he has a daughter. Not that he’s likely to care.” Brielbara then proceeded to give the adventurers her address, though Zaerini privately suspected that she was probably right. Coran likely wouldn’t care, even if he were to find out. 

By a strange coincidence, Coran himself was walking into the city of Baldur’s Gate at that very moment. Of course, some people claim not to believe in coincidence, but if they were to stop and consider more closely, they would realize that coincidence is in fact very logical. After all, the gods are able to influence the actions of mortals from time to time, and many gods are known to have fairly nasty senses of humor. This would certainly explain why Coran, who had traveled to Baldur’s Gate at the worst possible time, also was only a few hours away from making the mistake of his life by visiting the worst possible place for him, and saying the worst possible thing to the worst possible person. One might almost be tempted to guess that some god disliked him. Or perhaps more likely, some goddess. 

It was twilight when Imoen walked into the Thieves’ Guild, feeling rather nervous. Adahn had promised to meet her there, to give her a few pointers during the burglary she had promised Narlen Darkwalk to perform, not to mention the more important one at Oberon’s Estate. She didn’t doubt that he would keep his promise, and she was certainly looking forward to seeing him again. But all the same she was worried. _I messed up the last time I saw him. I just hope this won’t be embarrassing_. 

Then she spotted the tall and black-clad form of the other rogue walking through the door, and she felt her heart make a little leap within her chest. _He still looks just as handsome as ever. But I have to try to forget about that. But…I can’t simply stop feeling the way I feel, can I? Well, no. But it…it won’t ever happen. I just have to go on anyway. At least he’s still my friend. That’s one good thing_. “Hi!” she called out, trying to make her voice sound natural. “I’m all ready to go!” 

“Good evening”, Adahn said, and the concerned look he gave her told her that he hadn’t been fooled for one instance. “Are you quite sure you feel well enough to do this?”

Imoen nodded vigorously. “Uh-huh. Sure. I’ll…I’ll be fine. I promise.” 

“If you say so. Just remember, the things we do can be quite dangerous. I wouldn’t want you to make a fatal mistake because you were…preoccupied with something.” 

“No, it’s all right,” Imoen said, smiling. “Honestly. Thanks for asking though.” 

The older rogue shrugged his shoulders briefly. “Think nothing of it,” he said. “I cannot help feeling responsible for the whole awkwardness.” 

“It wasn’t your fault. I guess…it’s just the sort of thing that happens.” Imoen looked around, eager to change the subject. “So…shall we go then? I’m sure Narlen Darkwalk is waiting by now?”

Adahn smiled briefly, clearly as relieved as she was to be able to speak of something else. “Certainly. Lead on then.” The two rogues moved towards the door. Imoen couldn’t help but notice that by now there were a large number of mostly female thieves paying very close attention to her companion, most of them people she had happened to show That Picture to. He didn’t say anything about it, but he did look slightly hunted and she felt very guilty about that, particularly when she heard some of the eager whispered comments. There was no obvious emotion apparent on his face, but the subtly increased tension in his posture reminded her of a trapped animal prepared to bite. 

“Here,” Imoen whispered. “Take my arm! They’ll pull off if they think we’re…you know…a couple. At least most of them.” 

The older rogue looked at her as if she’d suddenly sprouted an extra head, but after a second or two he did extend his arm. Imoen took it eagerly, and as they moved on through the crowd, she felt a great surge of triumph at the envious looks many of the onlookers were giving her. _All right, so maybe he won’t be mine. But pretending a little never hurt anybody, and this is so much fun!_

When they were almost at the door it opened, and a person came walking in. A brown-haired elf, with a ready smile and a cocky swagger to his walk. An elf she had never expected to see again. “You!” she cried out at the same time that Coran did. He sounded equal parts angry and disgusted. 

Imoen didn’t often get angry, but there were certain notable exceptions, and this was one of them. “You…you nasty old poopyhead!” she cried out, waving her finger beneath Coran’s nose. “How could you act like that!” 

“What?” the elf said, sounding very insulted. “It was your little half-breed friend who abused _me_! Do you know what she did to me?”

“Don’t you dare call her that! And she told me how you treated her, and as far as I’m concerned you deserved it all, even the honey. If it’d been me, I’d have done worse for you hurting Rini’s feelings like you did. And what about Brielbara?”

Coran looked as if he was trying to recall something. “Er…who?”

“You don’t even remember her name? OOOH! You…you are such a…and after she bore your baby too, all alone, and then was abandoned by her husband when it was born a half-elf, and then he cursed it to try to kill it, and we had to help her out, and you don’t even remember her name?”

By now Coran looked as if he had been hit between the eyes with a club. “Baby? What baby?”

“Oh,” Imoen said, suddenly feeling a little embarrassed. “I guess you didn’t know about that. Yeah, she had your baby, and her name is Namara, and she’s the cutest little girl you’ll ever see. I expect you’ll want to go see her now?”

Coran’s mouth worked silently for a few moments, but then he seemed to come to a decision. “No,” he said. “I won’t.”

“What? But…why?”

“Look, even if I knew for certain that the child was mine…”

“She’s a half-elf! How many elves do you suppose that Brielbara has been spending time with? And she’s all alone, I’m sure she’d like you to come back to visit the baby.”

“As I said, even if she is mine I still want nothing to do with her.” Coran shook his head with an air of mild disgust. “I just don’t have the time or the inclination to care for a child. I’m sure Briel will manage somehow.” 

Imoen could only stare at the elf, too revolted to be able to get a single word out. _How…how can he say such a thing? That poor little girl…I hope she never finds out what her father’s like._

At that moment the pink-haired thief heard somebody clearing their throat next to her and started violently as she realized that she’d forgotten all about Adahn. “Excuse me,” he said in a very polite voice as he addressed Coran. “But could I perhaps ask you to clarify a thing or two?” He was smiling, Imoen noticed, but not actually smiling. Somehow, she got the impression of bared fangs. Coran must have noticed as well, for he took an involuntary step backwards. “I’m sure I must have misunderstood something here,” Adahn said, still sounding altogether too polite. “You have fathered a child…you have been given the privilege of being able to actually be a father to her rather than just some peripheral influence…and you cannot be bothered to do so, or indeed even to lay eyes upon her or contribute to her upbringing because you haven’t ‘got the time or the inclination’?” 

“Uh…” Coran said, “well…yes?”

“Thank you,” Adahn said, and that not-quite-a-smile widened just a little bit. “I just wanted to make certain.” Then his arm shot out. Imoen wasn’t able to see exactly what he did, but there was a loud and hollow sound, and then Coran was lying in an unconscious heap on the floor, while Adahn was sliding a black object into a pocket. “Blackjack,” he laconically told Imoen. “Very useful in certain situations, you should think about getting one.” 

“Are…are you going to kill him?” For a moment Imoen almost hoped that he’d say yes. 

“Tempting, but I think I’d better not. Dead he’d be no use whatsoever to that child, remember? I have a better idea, if you happen to know where to get in touch with this Brielbara.” 

Imoen nodded, beaming brightly. “I sure do!” 

“Then, I’d say it’s time this elf underwent a change of attitude.” Adahn picked Coran up, being none too gentle about it. “And they say elves are light…” he muttered. Then he looked a little surprised at the wild smattering of applause that suddenly came from the still watching throng of admiring mostly female thieves, along with a few appreciative suggestions about what to do with Coran. There were some other appreciative suggestions as well, ones that made Imoen blush brightly. Her companion didn’t, but from the slightly stunned look on his face she got the impression that it was only because he willed himself not to. He nodded briefly at the onlookers and then walked out the door, Coran slung across his shoulder. “Let’s go,” he told Imoen. “I think it’s high time we took out the trash.” 

When Coran woke up, he had a splitting headache. He also found himself blindfolded, gagged, and tied up. “I wouldn’t thrash about if I were you,” a chillingly polite male voice spoke into his left ear. “You’ll only risk injuring yourself.” 

“Mmmf!”

“Oh, you’re wondering what’s about to happen to you?” the voice said. “Well, that all depends on you, actually. Right now, you have probably already noticed that you are quite helpless and unable to move. What you won’t have noticed is that you happen to be lying on madam Brielbara’s doorstep, where she’ll likely find you first thing in the morning.”

“Mmmf?”

“There’s a letter pinned to your clothes, a letter explaining that you’re fully prepared to take responsibility for your child and do everything within your power to provide her with a good life. Whether that will involve a simple monetary arrangement or the added privilege of being allowed to openly be a father to her will depend entirely on Brielbara.” 

“Mmmf.”

“Ah, now you’re wondering what’s preventing you from simply skipping town as soon as you’re untied. Please let me explain.” Coran flinched as he felt something cold and very, very sharp briefly tickling his throat. “If that were to happen, I would find out. Perhaps not the next day, perhaps not the next week. But I would find out. And then I would find _you_. Are you feeling the urge to be a model father yet?”

“Mmmf! MMMF!!”

“That’s what I thought. Best of luck to you then.” 

A second voice, female, giggled loudly. “Aw, I think he looks really sweet like that.”

“If you say so,” the first voice dryly said. “Though I must say I wish you hadn’t insisted on the pink ribbon. But now I think we have better things to do than to waste our time with already delivered mail.” 

There was no sound of footsteps moving off, but Coran’s instincts eventually told him that he was alone. He thought about the women, all the lovely women waiting for him out in the world, about the freedom of being totally irresponsible and all the cities he had planned to travel to. He thought about running away. Then he thought about that sincere voice next to his ear, one night when he wouldn’t expect it. And then Coran wept.


	54. Talk and Thievery

**In The Cards 54 –Talk and Thievery**

_Always learn as much as you can about your target before going in. If you find yourself in a situation where that is not possible, remember to proceed with extreme caution. Otherwise you may suddenly find yourself unexpectedly transported into some unpleasant alternate dimension populated entirely with characters out of a soppy romance novel, or else savaged by flesh-eating demons. Of those two, the demons are the preferred option, since at least they will not make you choke to death on your own vomit._

_Excerpt from ‘Interview With An Assassin’_

He was the King of the World. Edwin felt as if he were floating along a goodly distance above the ground, head firmly lodged in the clouds. The day had been an eventful one, but there was really only one event that mattered to him at the moment. _She kissed me! Strange…I never thought it could be a pleasant experience to feel as if the top of your head has been blown off, but there you have it. She kissed me! And it felt like…like magic._

Edwin was totally unaware of the fact that his eyes were coming unfocused and that a big smile was slowly spreading across his face, and he probably wouldn’t have cared anyway. _Ah, my Hellkitten. She is so aggravating, so frustrating, so mentally annihilating and so…so utterly, utterly perfect. Clever, amusing, dangerous, witty…what more could anybody ask for?_ He managed to sneak a glance at the bard walking ahead of him. _Oh, and beautiful. Mustn’t forget that. She kissed me! Granted she was almost unconscious at the time, but it certainly felt as if she meant it. I’m sure she did. I am, after all, the one man in the world worthy of such attention from her, she cannot help but know that. By now she must have been impressed by the dazzling power of my magnificent intellect and my razor-sharp wit and snappy repartee. Not to mention by my devastating good looks. Everything will work out._

The wizard suddenly stopped in his tracks, hardly noticing Jaheira prodding him in the back to make him start moving again. _Except…there was that…that dream, wasn’t there? That awful, awful dream_. He shuddered briefly as he remembered it. The red cat, with fire dancing in her wake. The large black wolf surrounded by drifting snow. Both of them snarling in terrible pain, pain caused by him, and his own voice telling him that if he would keep them safe, then he must give them both up. _No! I can’t do that! It isn’t fair to ask that of me. I can’t hurt them like that, either of them. I…I just can’t._

Zaerini turned towards him, a quizzical look in her golden eyes. She was smiling, and he forced himself to smile in return. After a few seconds the pleasant haze in his head was back. _Maybe I can avoid it somehow. Yes, of course I can. Am I not Edwin Odesseiron, the most skilled wizard ever to walk the face of Faerun? Surely I must be able to keep them safe somehow, without…without losing them? Of course I can. And I will_. He felt pleasant thrills along his spine as he envisioned the cat and the wolf, side-by-side, safe and happy. Then he looked deeper into those golden eyes and his silly and dazed smile slid in place once again. _Yes…everything will be just fine…just…fine…_

Edwin hardly noticed Imoen slipping off into the shadows before the party reached the Elfsong tavern. Part of him registered the fact, and correctly guessed where she might be going, but it no longer worried him as much as it had. _After all, Teacher Dekaras said that he wasn’t interested in her that way. He promised me. And he always keeps his promises._ He sighed briefly. _I still wish she wouldn’t run around after him though. He is far too busy to waste his time on her. He needs to stay focused on what he’s doing. He may not care about how dangerous the part he is playing is, but I do. Anything could go wrong, and he’s too stubborn to pull out in time. If he has decided that something needs doing, then he’ll do it, even if he knows his life is hanging on a fine thread. He probably won’t even tell me if things turn ugly, he always wants to handle things on his own. And if I were to tell him that I worry, then he would probably just look surprised that I could even think of such a ludicrous idea. He would mean it too._

The Red Wizard had reached the steps to the upper floors now and was preparing to go upstairs, vaguely thinking that he needed to study his spells before he became too tired to think clearly. However, at that moment he heard an uncharacteristically firm voice next to him. “Hold on a m-moment,” Khalid said. “We r-r-really need to t-talk.” 

Edwin frowned. “Can’t this wait until tomorrow? What could possibly be this important? (And if you want me to come up with a magical means to grow an artificial spine then you’ll simply have to make an appointment.)” 

“N-no. It can’t w-wait.” Surprised by this strange display of resolve in the normally mild-mannered half-elven warrior Edwin suddenly found himself steered up the stairs and into his own room. Khalid sat on a chair next to the door, watching him in a way that the Red Wizard found seriously unnerving. It felt a bit like being unexpectedly menaced by a fluffy teddy bear. 

“Edwin,” Khalid began, still giving him that strange look, “you d-do know that G-g-gorion wished for me and Jaheira to function as g-guardians to Zaerini, do you not?” 

Edwin nodded, trying to figure out what the half-elf was getting at. 

“And you know that we b-both care for her d-d-dearly?”

“Of course.” _Ha! What does he know of ‘caring’ for her? I bet he doesn’t dream about her at night or have every feature of her face and every nuance of her voice memorized as carefully as any spell. Mmmm…that face…_

“Edwin!” 

“Er…what?” the Red Wizard said, surprised to see Khalid shaking him by the shoulder, looking clearly exasperated. 

“W-will you please stop drifting off and start p-paying attention? Now, as I was s-saying, we both c-care for her. We have no wish to see her h-hurt.”

_Hurt? What is he talking about? Have they learned something new about Sarevok? Or is it something else? If somebody tries to hurt her they’ll learn not to provoke the wrath of the Dread Wizard! I’ll put so many curses on them they won’t be able to tell their face from an ogre’s backside. And I’ll make them smell like their own armpits, only magnified a hundred times. And then I’ll yank their upper lips back to cover their entire heads. And then I’ll send a Fireball up their…_

“Edwin!”

“What?” 

By now Khalid’s face was red with annoyance beneath his chestnut hair and he was breathing heavily. “Stop d-daydreaming! As I s-said, we don’t want to see Zaerini h-hurt. Now, I’m sure that you are a g-good boy deep down…” 

The wizard fixed the warrior with a dark glare. “You will not call me that,” he stated, his voice soft but filled with menace. “You have no right to do so. Do you understand me?”

“…er…very, v-very deep down. And I’m sure you want only what’s b-best for her. But all the same, I would like to ask a-about your intentions.” 

Edwin gave the half-elf a blank look, totally uncomprehending. _Intentions? Whatever is he going on about? What intentions? He couldn’t know about my secret plan to eventually rule all of Thay, could he? No, he was talking about Zaerini. Intentions…intentions…how could I possibly have any kind of intentions when she constantly seems to spin my head around like a top? When I am around her I can hardly remember my own name, much less plan for the future, and I don’t even care. And…and she kissed me! I’ve never felt like this before, and I can’t even think of a name for how I feel…I’m sure nobody has ever felt like this before._

“Edwin!”

“Um…what?”

“You are d-doing this on p-purpose, aren’t you?” Khalid sighed and raked his hands through his hair. “L-let me try another way. How do you p-picture your future?”

“What, except for trying to avoid being cleaved in two by a maniac in spiky armor or talked to death by a stuttering half-elf?”

“Yes, apart from th-that!” 

Edwin shrugged. “Nothing complicated. Simply to fully realize my potential as the greatest wizard of all times, with powers to rattle the foundations of the multiverse.”

“S-simply to…”

“Of course, immortality sounds like an excellent goal as well.”

“D-dare I believe that you mean that in a f-figurative sense?”

“Of course not. What would be the point in that?” _Or at least I must achieve longevity_ , Edwin thought. _After all, she is a half-elf. Her lifespan is longer than that of an ordinary human. I must be able to match that; I wouldn’t want to be old and withered while she is still as lovely as ever. But with my piercing mind and analytical skill I am sure I’ll figure out a way to solve that minor problem. And I won’t cheat like El-I’m-so-special-because-I-bonked-Mystra-bighead-Minster either._

Khalid was looking positively despairing by now. “How about s-settling down?” he tried. “With that one s-special person?” 

“Me?”

“No, _another_ s-special person?” 

“I suppose that would be nice…” Edwin said, thinking about it. _And she is special. I never met anybody remotely like her. And she kissed me! Hm, I wonder how soon I could get her to do it again? I wonder what she’s doing now. I wonder if she’d like some company. I wonder if she’s thinking about me. Well, of course she must be thinking about me. She has excellent taste, after all. And she kissed me! I want to…I want to…actually I’m not sure exactly what I want, but I want it a lot. To make her happy? Yes, that’s it. I could try to make her kiss me again, that should make us both happy…I would do anything to make her happy…_

“EDWIN!” 

“What?” 

“Please l-listen to me! And what are you d-doing with your b-blanket?” 

Edwin looked down. For some reason he found himself clutching his blanket, squeezing it tightly to his breast while he gently stroked it with his other hand. “Er…hugging it?” he tried, certain that that particular statement lacked something when it came to suavity. 

“Just s-stop,” Khalid said. By now he was gripping the hilt of his sword very tightly as if he wanted it to support him. “L-let’s move on to another s-subject. This is important so p-please try to p-pay attention.” The half-elf cleared his throat, and Edwin was surprised to see him blushing to the very tips of his lightly pointed ears. “Now, what do you know about how to…er…p-protect against…er…unwanted c-c-c-consequences?” 

“What consequences?” 

Khalid was stuttering so badly by now that he was almost unintelligible. “When a m-m-m-man and a w-w-w-woman l-l-l-love one another th-th-they like t-to h-h-h-hug in a special w-way and….DON’T DRIFT OFF ON ME!” 

“There’s no need to shout,” Edwin huffed. “I’m not deaf. You were saying?” 

“They l-like to h-h-h-hug in a s-s-special way and then…”

_Hugging her is very nice. Not quite as intense as kissing, but still very, very nice. She is so warm, and her hair is so soft, and it smells like…like her. Sweet, but spicy as well. And she seems to fit so perfectly in my arms…of course everything about her is perfect. Even when she’s being deliberately annoying. She certainly knows the value of a good argument, and her insults are so keen, her wit so biting…just perfect. And then she’ll suddenly break off, and she’ll smile and…_

“…and th-that is h-h-h-how it happens,” Khalid said, wiping the sweat off his brow with a large handkerchief. “You w-w-will remember t-to go g-gently, won’t you? L-like I explained? And t-to take the p-p-precautions I t-told you about?” 

Edwin desperately tried to recall the past few minutes. He always hated to admit that there was something he didn’t know, and he didn’t want to let on that he had only heard one word out of five. What had the nervous half-elf been nattering about? He had no idea. Something about…being careful? And protective spells? He was pretty certain rabbits came into it as well but wasn’t quite sure how. Probably it involved some sort of spell they wanted him to do, though conjuring rabbits hardly was a feat worthy of him. “Of course I’ll be careful,” he snorted. “I’m always careful.” 

“G-good,” Khalid sighed, sounding very relieved. 

“If you’re so anxious I’ll be happy to let you watch.” 

“WATCH?” Khalid screamed. 

Edwin frowned, puzzled at this violent reaction. “Well, if you doubt that I can pull it off I see no other solution, insulting as it is to doubt my capacity in that regard.”

“C-c-capacity…” 

“It’s not as if you know anything about how to do it properly. I, on the other hand, was already an expert by the time I was ten.”

“TEN?”

_What is the matter with the man? He’s even more jumpy than usual_. “Yes,” Edwin said, in the patient voice one might use to explain something to a dimwitted child. “I was trained in conjuration from an early age you know. I’m sure a few rabbits won’t strain me.” 

Slowly, the faint light of comprehension and despair illuminated Khalid’s eyes and he put his head in his hands. “N-no,” he sobbed. “I’m sure it w-w-won’t…” 

At that moment there was a brisk knock on the door and Zaerini strode into the room, smiling brightly at Edwin. “Hi, Eddie!” she said, her face practically glowing. “I just had a great idea. There’s a chessboard in mine and Immy’s room, I thought you might want to give me that lesson you promised me.” Then she broke off as she saw the quietly weeping Khalid. “What’s wrong with him?” 

Edwin shrugged. “No idea,” he said, and the circulating gesture his forefinger described next to his temple indicated exactly what he thought. Khalid seized the opportunity to escape and practically ran from the room. On the landing outside he almost collided with his wife. 

“Khalid?” Jaheira said. “Is something wrong? How did your Talk with Edwin go?” Then she took an involuntary step backwards as she saw the brittle smile on her husband’s face and the way a muscle in his cheek was twitching violently. 

“I d-do n-n-n-not want to t-talk about it!” he said. And he never, ever did. 

-*-

Imoen had never been particularly good at waiting. Patiently staying immobile wasn’t really a behaviour that came naturally to her. So it was that as she was hanging about behind the Sorcerous Sundries magic shop, trying to look inconspicuous, she kept trying to come up with new ways to amuse herself. She first spent some time thinking about Sarevok. Much as it bothered her, the large warrior did seem to have some sort of strange connection with her best friend, and that in a way meant that he was connected to Imoen as well. _But I don’t want him to be. He…he killed Gorion. He’s been trying to kill us all._

All the same…from the few things Zaerini had told her of Sarevok’s diary he hadn’t had an easy life. Imoen couldn’t help feeling sorry about that, whatever he’d done. And her sister also seemed to sense something more about him. _It’s that Bhaalspawn thing. I wish I could understand better. I’m her best friend and I love her! I should be able to understand._

Imoen sighed. These thoughts never really led anywhere. She would simply have to try her best to be there for her friend, same as she always had. And in the meantime, she had some waiting to do. Nervously she fiddled with her lock picks a little, admiring the new set she had bought only the other day, including one that could be used on really tiny locks. These days she could do things that she’d only dreamed of before, but there was still so much to learn. And of course, tonight would be an examination of a sort. Not just a dungeon crawl this, checking for traps for the benefit of her friends. Tonight, she was going to participate in real roguery, and while being watched by a skilled senior no less. _I hope I didn’t forget anything important. Let me see. Lock picks, kit for trap disarming, rope, oil, sword, extra dagger, sandwiches, lucky handkerchief…that should be it. All right, let’s go over some stuff he might ask about. Traps are very important. Gotta remember to check for traps at all times. Wonder if he’d mind teaching me to set some as well? That could be very useful. Anyway. Must make sure to be very stealthy and secret, so I’ll impress him. Mature. Dangerous. Classy. Professional. That’s it._

Imoen sighed again, a little wistfully this time and started skipping along the alley on one leg in order to cheer herself up. _If only he wasn’t already taken…it’s so unfair. We would have made such a perfect couple. But it wouldn’t be right to try to steal him from somebody else of course. I just hope she knows how lucky she is. Well, at least he can still be my friend, and teach me lots of stuff, and I’ll make him very proud of me. Yup, that’s what’ll happen._

“Oh, I beg your pardon,” said a very dry voice right next to Imoen’s ear. “I wasn’t aware that we had an appointment to play games. Or were you doing dancing practice?”

Imoen squealed and spun around, almost colliding with the tall shape of Adahn. The older rogue was standing right behind her, watching her with a sardonic smile on his face. “Hi!” Imoen said. “Wow, I still can’t believe how silent you can be! That is so neat. I’d really, really, really, really like to learn that. Think I can? Do ya? Do ya?”

“Possibly” Adahn said with a small shrug. “I’d say that occasionally staying silent long enough to draw breath would be a good start. I have sorted out my own preparations. Are you ready?” 

Imoen nodded enthusiastically. “Sure! I’ve got all I need. This is going to be so much fun, I’m having fun already, aren’t you having fun? Come on, I’m sure you are!”

“I believe,” Adahn said, “that I will reserve judgement on the night’s ‘fun-level’ until after we both come back alive and in one piece. Call me a traditionalist if you want, but that’s how I usually prefer it.” Suddenly he got a very strange look on his face, almost as if he had bitten into a scrumptious, tasty apple and found half a worm. “What,” he said, “is that?”

“Oh!” Imoen cheerfully exclaimed, proudly raising her arm to display its current decoration. “That’s my lucky handkerchief. Well, actually I suppose it’s _your_ handkerchief, but you did say I could keep it.” She smiled at her companion. “I just thought that since you gave it to me it might bring me good luck, and then I thought that I could tie it around my arm, for a favour, you know. Like knights do in the stories. It’s usually the devastatingly cute and highborn lady who gives the knight the hanky, but I figured it probably would work even if you aren’t exactly a lady, and they don’t have to be, you know, a couple or anything, just friendly like us and…” 

Adahn was supporting himself against the wall by now. “Please allow me to explain something,” he said in a very tightly controlled voice. “You are not a knight, and if that’s the sort of training you’re looking for, then you have definitely come to the wrong person. Furthermore, I really don’t want any of my personal items accidentally dropped at a crime scene for any diviner to pick up. Just put it away.” 

“Aw, PLEASE?” Imoen tried, making her best puppy eyes. 

“A touching performance. Can you see the single crystal tear trickling down my petal-like rosy cheek?”

“Um…no?”

“That’s because there isn’t one. Now let’s go before I lose my patience.” 

The two rogues quietly made their way through the city towards the designated meeting place. Narlen Darkwalk looked a little uneasy when he noticed that Imoen wasn’t alone. “Hey!” he said. “I thought I told ye…”

“You told her not to bring any outsiders,” Adahn smoothly interrupted. “That does not include me of course. You needn’t worry for your cut of the loot; I have no interest in that anyway as I am simply here to observe.” 

“Oh. Well. That be all right then. I be wantin’ to see how ye do on the inside this eve, while Rededge spy the alley.” Narlen tittered nervously at Imoen. “It be a jewel heist, see? I had thought to pick the lock for ye, but with yer friend all set to help…”

“That’s fine”, Imoen said. “We can manage on our own, right Adahn?”

“I should certainly hope so,” the older rogue said. He gave Narlen a pointed look. “Oh, and by the way… I hope you were not planning to send our young friend into the proverbial lion’s den without providing her with some more information about the beast within, now were you? We should always try to educate our junior colleagues, don’t you agree? Otherwise there might be some resentment later.” Once again, he was using that not-quite-a-smile. Imoen was very impressed and immediately decided to practice later in front of a mirror. Narlen apparently also was impressed, enough so that his teeth started chattering quietly. 

“It b-b-be Gantolandon the g-gem merchant,” he said. “Very r-rich…keeps some g-goods in the house. Doesn’t go out much, bit of a recluse.”

Adahn leaned forward. “I don’t really care about how rich he is,” he said in a very reasonable voice. “What I do care about is if he has any guards, and if so, how many and how well armed. The presence of guard dogs or traps is also the sort of information I would like you to provide me with. You have done your research properly, I assume?”

“Er…I…”

“Ah. I see. So basically, you were planning to send a half-trained girl in blindly, in the faint hope that she might make it out alive. How…inventive of you.” 

“I…I…”

“Here’s what we’ll do. Since she will do the actual job, it seems only fair that she also gets the actual profit, don’t you agree?”

“I…I…I…”

Adahn had put a friendly hand on Narlen’s shoulder by now, or at least it looked friendly. Imoen thought she could see the thief wincing slightly though. “She will take the risks, she will leave with the money, and after this little outing you will make sure that she gets full privileges in the guild, won’t you? It would be such a shame if anybody else thought they could take advantage of an outsider. I wouldn’t like that at all.” 

Sweat was trickling down Narlen’s forehead by now. “Wh-what do I get?”

“You? You get the satisfaction of having helped a young mind grow and blossom into its full potential.” The grip on Narlen’s shoulder tightened just a little bit and moved further up towards his throat. “Isn’t that nice?”

Narlen’s eyes flickered in panic for a moment, and then he hung his head. “Yeah”, he sighed. “Real nice.” 

Gantolandon’s house was an impressive three-story one, surrounded by a tall wall. Dark and shuttered windows stared silently back at the two rogues lurking in the shadows on the other side of the street, giving no secrets away. “I don’t really like this,” Adahn said in a quiet voice. “I always prefer knowing at least something of what to expect before entering a strange house, and if Gantolandon is such a wealthy merchant it seems reasonable to expect traps. But since you have promised to do this you really can’t back out without losing all standing with the Guild, and probably making dangerous enemies as well. You must remember to be very cautious though.”

“I will”, Imoen promised. “I’ll show you how good I’ve become.” 

“Very well. Proceed at your own pace then.” 

A few minutes later Imoen was eyeing the lock on the front door warily. _Now let’s see…a lightning trap. No sweat, I can deal with those_. She took a certain tiny instrument out of her toolbox and started working. _Twist…and turn. Up…and down…and then flip the weight. There we go. Ooops…mustn’t forget the isolation. Just a teeny bit of Magic Glue to jam the mechanism…like that. Got it!_

“Very nice,” Adahn said, nodding approvingly so that Imoen felt a warm glow of pride spread through her entire body. “Now try the lock itself.” 

Imoen went on working, grinning like a maniac. It took a few minutes, but eventually the door opened. Remembering to check that no trap waited immediately inside the door she proceeded into the house. It was dark. Very dark. Imoen stood absolutely still for a few moments, waiting for her eyes to adjust. Eventually she started to make out the faint outlines of furniture. Tall and heavy cabinets stood along the walls, and doors led off into different directions, while a staircase led upwards into mystery. Moving as cautiously as she could she peeked into the first room, an elegant living-room as it turned out. Carefully navigating between the tiny tables that seemed to have been placed exactly where a nightly visitor might trip over them on purpose, Imoen approached a chest of drawers and peered into it. There were a few coins, but apart from that nothing of interest. The same held true for the rest of the room. 

A short while later Imoen was beginning to grow desperate. She had searched practically the whole first floor, but there were still no gems to be found, or indeed anything else of great value. Adahn hadn’t said anything about it yet, simply following behind her, watching her technique, but it was making her increasingly nervous. _I can’t believe this! I can’t make a fool of myself in front of him, I mustn’t!_ Biting her lip nervously, she entered the final room on the first floor. This room turned out to be a spotless kitchen, neat and tidy, practically gleaming. Imoen felt ready to scream with frustration. 

“Hold on,” Adahn breathed, taking her arm as she prepared to leave. “Don’t give up just yet. The kitchen is a fairly common hiding place for small valuables.” 

Imoen nodded and started searching the room. The fireplace held nothing of interest, but then she came across the cupboards. Two of them, both locked. That was a bit unusual. What could there be in a kitchen that was precious enough that somebody felt the need to lock it away? The lock on the first cupboard was difficult, and she had to work on it for quite some time. Finally, it opened, and Imoen happily held up her prize, a large bag of gems. It was too dark to examine them closely, but she thought she could recognize at least a few pretty pearls. The second cupboard turned out to be more difficult, however. However much she struggled she just couldn’t manage to get it open. 

“I’ll do it,” Adahn whispered. “This is a tricky one.” He examined the lock for a while, then handed Imoen a lock pick of a kind she hadn’t seen before. It was slightly hooked and had a serrated edge. “Here, let me show you.” Taking the girl’s hand in his own he carefully guided her through the process. Meanwhile, Imoen was trying very hard to remember to breathe, and to forget that he was standing very close behind her. Not an easy task, and once the lock finally opened, she was very glad that the darkness hid her blush. “You see?” the older rogue asked. “It’s the twist at the end that’s the important thing. Otherwise you will snap the lock pick inside the lock, and that can be a bit inconvenient.” 

Imoen just nodded, not trusting herself to speak. _Maybe I can’t have him for my own, but dreaming isn’t a crime. And even if it was, I don’t care._ “This is very strange,” she said as she examined the contents of the cupboard. “No food at all, and no more gems, just these wine bottles.” She held a dark green bottle up and sloshed it around to illustrate her point. 

“You’re right,” Adahn said, giving the bottle a sharp look. “That is very strange. Come to think of it…there isn’t any food anywhere in this kitchen, is there? And it doesn’t look as if it has ever been used…”

“Maybe Gantolandon always eats out?”

“Maybe…or maybe not. Let me see that bottle.” Imoen wordlessly handed it over. She was feeling increasingly worried, though she couldn’t quite say why. It was a subtle, creeping feeling of dread. 

Whatever it was, it was affecting her companion as well. He carefully turned the bottle over and over, and then held it up against the faint light of the small magical torch burning in one corner of the room. As he did, his sharp face took on a very grim look. “There are wards on this cork,” he explained. “Some sort of magic to keep the contents fresh. It doesn’t have to mean anything, but I wonder…” Pulling the cork out of the bottle he poured some of the dark red fluid into a glass and then dipped his finger into it and tasted it. Once he did, he tensed subtly, reminding Imoen uncomfortably of some wild animal suddenly sensing the approach of an enemy. “This is bad,” he said in a flat voice. “We need to get out of here now.” 

“But…”

“No time to explain. Just go, and quietly.” 

As they reentered the hall, Imoen once again felt that dread, like icy fingers sliding along her spine, but this time it was stronger. And…there was something there, between them and the front door. Mist? But how could there be a cloud of swirling mist here, indoors? And then the mist solidified, took on a shape that almost looked like a human man. Almost, except for the corpse-like pallor and the burning red eyes. Then the creature parted its pale lips, hissing, and as Imoen gazed upon the sharp fangs there was just a single word running through her mind. 

_Vampire._

Vampire. Imoen kept staring at the creature before her, feeling much like a rabbit facing a snake. The ‘Children of the Night’ had always been one of Zaerini’s favorite reading topics, and Candlekeep held several books describing them. Imoen had never been that fond of horror stories, much preferring romance, but her friend had sucked them all up. _Don’t think about sucking!_ All right. Rini had devoured those books… _No, don’t think about devouring either!_ Right. Rini had _read_ those books, and she’d told Imoen a lot, but none of it had in any way prepared her for the frightening reality. 

The vampire looked like an immensely fat human, with pale flesh bulging out of his rich brown and gold merchant’s robe. He had about three chins, and his glowing red eyes were practically buried in the folds of fat on his face. There were spots of blood on his face, Imoen noticed, feeling rather sick. _Funny…for some strange reason I always thought vampires were supposed to be skinny. But I suppose it makes sense that a fat person would make a fat vampire and…_

“Intruders…” the vampire purred in an oily voice. “Who are you that you dare enter the House of Gantolandon? Come, look me in the eyes and give me an honest answer…”

“Don’t look him in the eyes,” Adahn said as he firmly pushed Imoen behind him. “That’s how they attract their prey.” He was keeping his attention firmly fixed on the vampire’s hands to illustrate his point. “Gantolandon, if that is who you are, step aside. There is no need for violence.”

The vampire chuckled, a darkly bubbling sound. “Oh, but there is. You have seen me, and you know my secret. I will have no priests coming here for an early morning visit. And besides…I’m still hungry.” He licked his lips greedily. 

Imoen gave a small gasp of surprise as her companion gave her a sudden shove that sent her quickly stumbling towards the stairs. “Run, girl,” he said, his voice tense. “Find a window or something.” He had drawn a short sword by now and was circling Gantolandon warily, not taking his eyes off the vampire. 

“But what about you…”

“I said get out! You can’t kill this one.” 

Much as she hated to admit it, Imoen had to admit that he was right. The vampire was too much for her, and she knew it. Turning on her heel she ran, as fast as her legs could carry her. The stairs seemed endless, like stairs in a nightmare, one of those where you keep trying in vain to wake up. Her breath whistled painfully through her burning throat, and at any moment she expected to feel the cold hands of the undead gem merchant close around her neck. There was no backdoor to the house, she knew that much as she had checked before entering. But surely, she would be able to get out through one of the windows…

At the top of the stairs Imoen turned, and the sight that met her almost made her heart stop with dread. Adahn was behind her, halfway up the stairs, his back towards her, and he was fighting to keep the vampire off. It wasn’t going too well though. Though the dark shape of the rogue moved with almost supernatural speed and grace, the vampire _was_ a supernatural being, and so was able to pose a very real threat, despite his large bulk. Even worse, Imoen could see that what wounds the vampire had sustained were already slowly closing up, leaving unblemished skin behind. On the other hand, her friend had no such advantage. Though he had so far managed to avoid any fatal injuries, she could see dark blood on his face where the vampire had clawed him, and from his movements she also thought that there was something wrong with his side. He was definitely not moving as fast as he had only a few moments ago, and Imoen was struck with the icy realization that there was a very real risk of him not making it. 

_He…he said that I couldn’t kill the vampire. But…he never said that he could either. No! NO!_ Wildly Imoen looked about for something, anything, that she might use as a weapon. There was a large and expensive-looking porcelain urn standing next to her. It would have to do. _I won’t leave him alone to die. I won’t._

Imoen had hoped for the urn to hit the vampire straight in the face, perhaps even knock it unconscious. She wasn’t quite so lucky, since the urn was much heavier than it looked, and she could barely lift it. As she hurled it down the stairs its trajectory was distinctly wobbly. Still, it did hit the vampire across the knees, temporarily unbalancing him. Adahn wasn’t late to take advantage of his opponent’s weakness. He spun around, planting a solid kick in Gantolandon’s protruding stomach. The vampire may not have had a breath to lose, but it still looked extremely painful, and more importantly, it made him lose his balance. His mouth a surprised ‘O’ he slowly toppled, and then there was a loud crash as he tumbled down the stairs like an overripe fruit. 

There wasn’t any time to stand around admiring the spectacle of Gantolandon sprawling at the bottom of the stairs, his plump legs in the air. Already he was starting to get to his feet, and the two rogues didn’t waste any time in waiting for him to do so. Rather, they slipped into the shadows of the upstairs corridor, hoping to confuse the vampire as to their whereabouts. There was also the tiny matter of trying to locate another exit than the front door, as that was still blocked by the vampire. Eventually they passed through an open door, shutting it behind them while they hoped that they wouldn’t wind up in more trouble than they were already in. 

The room turned out to be a bedroom of a sort. In most respects it was an ordinary bedroom. Heavy red curtains covered the windows completely. There was an armoire in one corner, a couple of bookshelves and a luxurious Kara-Turan carpet on the floor, one with a disturbing pattern of dancing demons, but otherwise normal. Yet another of the magical torches spread some faint light. 

“There’s no mirror,” Imoen said as she scanned the room. 

“Of course not,” her companion replied as he barred the door. “Vampires have no reflection, it’s not as if he’d need one.” It seemed that the vampire also didn’t need an ordinary bed, something that you would certainly normally expect to find in a bedroom. Instead there was a polished black coffin standing in the middle of the floor, one that was a lot wider than the standard model. “I suppose he must have had it custom-made,” Adahn murmured as he crossed the room and pulled the curtains aside. “I’ve never quite understood this fascination with coffins, it seems very uncomfortable.” Despite his light tone, Imoen got the impression that he was worried. Even worse, now that she had better light, she could see that the gash across his cheek had barely missed an eye, and it was still bleeding heavily. She couldn’t tell for certain about the other wound, since he seemed to be turning that side away from her on purpose, but he was pressing one hand to it and she thought his breathing sounded heavier than it should. 

“You’ve been hurt,” Imoen said, inwardly wanting to hit herself for stating the obvious. “How bad is it? Are you gonna be OK? Please don’t die, promise you won’t. Wait, I’ve got a couple of healing potions, just a second…you should take them at once, if you’re feeling too weak, I’ll help you drink them…” She was feeling frantic by now, and was very much aware that she was babbling, but she couldn’t seem to stop. 

“Thank you,” Adahn said, a fleeting look of surprise crossing his face, “but I assure you I can manage.” He pulled a small bottle out of his pocket and drank the contents, and Imoen saw the bleeding from the facial wound subside. “That will be enough. Save the others for later, you may need them yet.”

“But…”

“No. I’ll manage, it’s hardly the first time I’ve been injured and it’s not too bad.” The older rogue was leaning against the window, working on getting the shutters open, and Imoen couldn’t help but notice that he still looked extremely pale and that there were dark circles beneath his eyes. “Besides, they won’t do much good for what ails me. A vampire can drain its victims of strength, I’ll need to pay a short visit to a temple once we get out of here.” 

“D-do you think we will get out of here?”

“Oh, indubitably.”

“That’s good.” 

“Of course, if you want to get out of here _alive_ rather than as the world’s first pink-haired vampire, you’d better move your feet over here and help me get through these shutters before the vampire manages to break down the door.” 

“Oh. Right. Sorry.” Feeling herself blushing once again, Imoen started working on the other half of the window, next to her companion. _Figures that I’d make myself look silly once again…_ From the door she could hear loud noises like something heavy throwing itself against it. _Ooops…hurry, hurry, hurry…_

“By the way,” Adahn quietly said after a couple of minutes. “That was some very quick thinking you displayed earlier with that urn. Just the distraction I needed. Well done. And your thief skills have also picked up in case I don’t get the chance to say so later. You’re doing very well.” 

“Wow!” Imoen gushed, once again feeling herself turn pink, but for a much more pleasant reason. “Thanks! Do you really mean that?”

“Certainly,” the older rogue said, raising an eyebrow with surprise. “I almost always mean exactly what I say.” 

“Oh thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you!” 

“You’re welcome. Ah, here is our escape route now. Have you got any Cat Claws? Or a grappling hook?”

“Um…”

“Never mind, we’ll use mine.” To the accompaniment of crashing noises coming from the door, Adahn took out a thin and tightly coiled rope, affixed to a grappling hook, and then stuck the hook firmly in place behind the windowsill. “Go on. You go first, I’ll come once you’ve climbed down to the ground.” His lips suddenly quirked into a sarcastic smile. “Unless you were expecting me to sweep you off your feet and carry you down the rope, in which case I’m afraid you’re going to be disappointed.” 

Imoen smiled back. “Nah, wouldn’t want us to break our necks. ‘Sides, I like climbing.” Carefully she eased herself out the window and started climbing down the rope, as quickly as she dared, and carefully avoiding looking down. It’s never a good idea to look down when you’re hanging from a very thin rope over some very hard cobblestones. 

The feeling of hard and solid ground beneath her feet was an extremely welcome one. Imoen could feel her knees trembling with relief as she craned her neck backwards, anxiously looking for her friend. Adahn was already halfway down the rope, climbing with a natural fluent skill that was very impressive to watch. _Must remember that he’s already taken. Must remember not to stare at his legs or at…oh Gods he’s handsome! No Imoen. Bad girl. Don’t touch. Don’t even think about staring._

Once Adahn reached the ground Imoen could hear another crash coming from inside the open window, the loudest one so far, and it was accompanied by a gloating giggle and the trilling cry of ‘Heeeeere I coooome!’” The black-clad rogue was hurriedly twisting the tip off one of his crossbow-bolts, and then proceeded to drag his dagger a few times along it, sharpening the tip. 

“What are you…” Imoen tried. 

“Hush. Not now. He’ll be out in a second.” 

Imoen’s heart was pounding loudly in her chest, and she stared at the dark window. Her every instinct screamed for her to run, but her brain told her that it would do no good, that the vampire would be able to catch up with her whatever she did. She simply had to trust that her friend knew what he was doing. He was standing completely motionless, totally focused upon the window. And then there was movement at the window, a tiny dark shape fluttering here and there, almost invisible. It looked a bit like a big black butterfly – or a bat. 

And now the bat had spotted them, and it dove, heedless of everything but the prey on the ground. Then, it jerked and shuddered in midair as the small wooden stake pierced its little chest, and it fell to the ground with a tiny shriek of rage. Adahn was upon it in seconds, seizing the dead bat firmly behind the wing. “One important thing about vampires,” he calmly told Imoen, “is that a stake through the heart only kills them as long as the stake is still there. To permanently slay them you need to assure that they cannot rise again. Like this.” The cut was both swift and certain, and as the small head was tossed aside Imoen thought she still could see a look of surprise on its wrinkled face. 

“That is so neat…I really wish I could pull off a shot like that.” 

“Thank you.” Adahn dropped the bat’s body to the ground, and then kicked it aside. “You can always practice on the next vampire we come across I suppose. But as for this one, I’m afraid he won’t provide you with much of a challenge. It seems that Gandolandon the gem merchant has gone permanently out of business.”


	55. Nymph-napping

**In The Cards 55 – Nymph-napping**

_If you find yourself certain that you are in the right, you should always question your motives and actions closely. There will be a very real danger of you being hideously in the wrong._

_Excerpt from ‘Ruminations Of A Master Bard’_

Zaerini stared at the boiled egg in front of her, with the uncomfortable feeling that it was looking right back. She was trying to decide what they should do today, and it wasn’t an easy task. The city was so big, there wouldn’t be a shortage of available jobs, but she didn’t intend for them to waste their time running minor errands if she could help it. She wanted to get to know Baldur’s Gate, and to make allies if possible, and only then would it be time to confront Sarevok. _Perhaps we should do as Scar asked and take a closer look at those sewers? But not first thing in the morning. I don’t think I can stand the smell before I have the chance to wake up properly._

_Is that so, kitten?_ Softpaws said as she lazily walked along the breakfast table and gave her mistress a meaningful look. _Any particular reason why you’re so tired? Such as any particularly interesting dreams last night?_

_I have no idea what you mean._

The cat didn’t exactly smirk, but there was the mental impression of a smirk all the same. _You can’t remember? What a shame. Good thing I can. There was this very entertaining one about you and the wizard all alone in a bathtub. I didn’t know you knew what he looks like without any outer fur on._

_It’s called ‘clothes’ and I don’t know that!_

_Oh? Would you like me to find out for you? I can always sneak into his room when he’s getting undressed and show you what I see._

Rini clasped her hands to her cheeks, feeling them burn as hot as if they were on fire. _Absolutely NOT! Don’t you dare do a thing like that!_

“Is something wrong?” Edwin asked from across the breakfast table, looking concerned. 

“Ah…no, no!” Zaerini hastily said, hoping her voice didn’t sound as squeaky as she thought it did. “It’s just…er…Softy is being silly. Again, I might add.” Desperately she tried to banish the images that kept appearing before her whenever she looked at the wizard. _Don’t think about it. Just don’t._

_Admit it kitten, you’re tempted. Want me to get under the table and sneak a peek at his legs? I can easily get inside that annoyingly concealing thing he’s wearing._

“No!” 

“Are you sure there’s nothing wrong?” Edwin asked. “You know that my amazingly astute intellect is at your disposal if you need it. Did you have another of those dreams last night?”

“Er…no. Not exactly.” _And I’m not about to tell you what kind of dream I did have. I didn’t know that my imagination could get that lively. Or that I knew how to do those things._

_You’re in heat, kitten. It’s only natural. Just get to it already, the male wants you as much as you want him._

_Now you sound like Jaheira. Well, not exactly like Jaheira, I can’t imagine her telling me to ‘get to it’. And I’ve told you it’s not that simple._

_Yes kitten, it is that simple_. The black cat made an annoyed flick with her tail. _It’s just that you insist on over-complicating things._

At that moment Zaerini got a welcome reprieve from the conversation as Imoen came down the stairs, her pink hair disheveled from sleep. She was rubbing her eyes and yawning widely. “Morning, guys!” she cheerfully called out. “Did ya sleep well?”

“Aye, lass”, Yeslick said. “But what about you? Ye look like ye’ve been digging yerself a shaft straight through Toril.” 

“Oh, I was up late last night, that’s all”, the thief said as she plopped down on the bench next to Zaerini and started shoveling food onto her plate. “Me and Adahn were working, you know. Yup. Very busy.” Her blue eyes were glowing with excitement. “Rini it was incredible!”

On the other side of the table Edwin suddenly choked on a piece of bread and it was a few minutes of confusion before Yeslick had pounded him hard enough on the back that he could breathe again. “What,” the still wheezing wizard managed, “is that supposed to mean?” He didn’t sound at all pleased. 

“Well, he’s been teaching me lots of cool stuff, you know!” By now Imoen was having obvious problems sitting still. “And we fought a vampire!” 

“VAMPIRE?” both the bard and the Red Wizard simultaneously exclaimed. Yeslick simply stared, his mouth slowly dropping open. 

Once Imoen had got through her bubbling explanation her companions didn’t exactly feel relieved. “Immy, you could have got killed!” Zaerini said. “Are you quite sure you’re all right?”

“Sure, I’m just fine!” Imoen bit her lip, looking momentarily worried. “I was really scared for Adahn’s sake though, he took a couple of hits from the vampire, but he said he’d be fine once he’d seen a priest. I wanted to come with him to make sure he got there all right, but he wouldn’t let me, but I’ll see him again tonight to do that other thing you know, and…”

“WHAT?!” Edwin’s chair crashed noisily to the floor as he sprang to his feet, glaring murderously at Imoen. “Have…have you no idea how draining a vampire attack is, even when tended to right away? If he doesn’t rest, he risks running himself into the ground, he could get himself killed!”

“But…but he didn’t say…”

“Well of _course_ he didn’t!” Edwin was almost as pale as a vampire himself by now, and he was clenching and unclenching his hands in impotent fury. “If he…if you…if…” Whatever he had meant to say he obviously thought better of it. “Never mind,” he snapped. “I’d try to talk sense into you, but that’s obviously a doomed effort. (Prideful, stubborn, insane…I’ll…I’ll…I’ll be damned if I ever understand the mindset of certain people.)” Then he stormed off up the stairs, slamming his door shut behind him with a loud bang. 

“Well, somebody certainly seems to be in a fine mood,” said Jaheira who was just approaching the table, Khalid at her side. The druid looked very energetic, and the high color in her cheeks hinted that she had already been outside. “What is wrong?”

“I’m…not exactly sure,” Rini said, still staring after Edwin. “He seems very highly strung lately.” Then she patted her best friend on the hand. “Don’t worry too much, Immy. I’m sure Adahn will be fine.” 

“Do you really think so?” Imoen had tears in her eyes by now. 

“Sure I do. I may not exactly trust him completely, but I do trust him to know what he’s doing. Edwin seems to have taken a liking to him too, that’s probably why he’s reacting so strongly. Don’t worry about it.” 

Jaheira now went on to explain that as she and Khalid had been taking an early morning walk, they had heard some very disturbing rumors. “It concerns two wizards, Ragefast and Ramazith. People are saying that this Ragefast has captured a nymph of all creatures, and that Ramazith is offering a reward for anybody willing to free her.” The druid had a very determined look in her green eyes as she bent over the table. “As a druid, all creatures of the wild are deserving of my protection”, she said. “I cannot let this matter slide; I must learn the truth of this and free the nymph if she is indeed enslaved.” 

“Of course we must help!” Imoen said. “The poor thing must be so sad and lonely…we have to help her!” 

“Aye”, Yeslick agreed. “I know all too well the pain of being a prisoner. I cannot see another suffer the same as I did.” 

Khalid looked nervously in the direction of the stairs. “I-is Edwin coming d-d-down soon do you think?”

“I don’t know”, Zaerini said, giving him a curious look. “Why do you ask?”

“N-no reason. J-j-just feeling a little f-f-faint today.” 

“If you say so.” The bard turned back to the rest of her friends. “All right”, she said. “I suppose we can always go and talk to this Ramazith person and find out what he has to say. But let’s be careful until we know more about what’s really going on.” 

It was a beautiful day outside, with the sun beaming down from a clear blue sky and gentle winds that were just cool enough. It was pleasant enough that Rini was even able to temporarily forget about the stench of the city streets, and of the great number of unwashed humans moving through said streets. She was in such a good mood that she started humming quietly to herself, certain that it was going to be an excellent day. Even Edwin seemed to have calmed down and had stopped glaring daggers at Imoen. _I guess he really must have taken a real liking to Adahn for him to react like that. Not that I blame him I suppose, the man can be very pleasant when he wants to, but Edwin doesn’t usually…_

Here her train of thought was interrupted, as was her conviction that it was going to be a pleasant day. “Could we have a moment of your time?” said a low and insincere voice from somewhere near her left side. The half-elf turned her head to see two strangers watching her very closely. The one who had spoken, and who seemed to be the leader, was a skinny man with mousy hair and a face that was so ordinary that your eyes almost slid right off it, like soap against a mirror. If you looked away from him for even a few seconds it was very hard to remember what he looked like. His companion was a younger man, probably only about Imoen’s age, tall, gangly and very freckled, and with a nervous look to his brown eyes. 

“That would depend on what you want to do with that moment,” Zaerini said, making certain to put a hand on her sword-hilt. “What do you want?” _Assassins, they almost have to be. I suppose it was too much to hope for that Sarevok would forget about me. Then again, I suppose teasing him with the head of that ogre mage wouldn’t exactly help…_

The unremarkable man smiled a thin smile. “First, let me introduce the two of us,” he said. “I'm Marek and this is my companion, Lothander. I thought it would be nice for you to know our names, 'cause if you don't take our advice you'll be seeing more of us two. I know that you've been taking an active interest in destroying the Iron Throne, don't try to deny it. My companion and I are in the employ of the aforementioned Throne. We thought it would be polite to give you one last warning: stop interfering with our employer's business. You can decide to disregard this warning, but if you do, it'll be the last decision you ever make.”

Rini snorted loudly. “Oh, I’m quaking with fear,” she said. “You know, I thought assassins were supposed to be silent types, but all the ones I’ve met so far have been annoyingly wordy.” 

Lothander’s eyes flitted nervously between the armed people facing him, but if Marek was impressed, he didn’t show it. “You have been given a warning,” he repeated. “Whether you take it or not is really up to you. If you don’t, we have our orders.”

“Really?” Edwin sneered. “But if we should happen to kill you right here and now you would have some problems carrying out those orders, wouldn’t you? (Some red-hot pincers would suit this one perfectly I think.)” 

“You could try”, Marek said. “The Flaming Fist would be upon you in seconds for daring to attack two innocent merchants.” 

“Oh yeah?” Imoen said, putting her hands on her hips. “Well, we’re not afraid of you, so there.” She was making a very strange grimace that made Marek blink with consternation. 

“Then maybe you should be,” the assassin said, and with that he obviously thought the conversation finished. Pulling his silent young companion with him he disappeared into the crowd. 

“Immy?” Zaerini asked her friend. “Um…is there something wrong with your face?” 

Imoen let her features resume their normal configuration, looking a little embarrassed. “Er…no,” she said. “I was just trying to look scary and awe-inspiring you know. I guess I need to practice some more.” 

“Scary?” Edwin said. “You looked like a constipated chipmunk.”

“No I didn’t! I’ll do better next time, you’ll see!” 

Zaerini tuned out the conversation as she continued walking along the street. Despite what she had said, there was something about Marek that worried her. He had seemed very certain of himself, and she was no longer able to enjoy the sunshine as she had mere minutes before. _The Iron Throne he said, not Sarevok. I wonder if that means anything? And if it does, I wonder if it makes things better or worse? I wish I could just go back to bed again and forget about prophecies, forget about Sarevok, forget about people that are trying to kill me and thoroughly enjoy that bathtub dream…_

“Now that is an impressive abode,” Edwin said, craning his neck backwards. 

Zaerini gave him a quick look to see if he was joking, but the wizard seemed perfectly serious. _Well. He’s so adorable in so many ways, I suppose it would be too much to expect him to have good taste in architecture as well. Or maybe it’s a wizard thing that I can’t hope to understand._

The building they were currently standing in front of was the home of the wizard Ramazith. To be specific, it was a very tall tower with a pointy roof, painted in hideously clashing pink gold and red. What with the shape and the coloration Zaerini couldn’t help wondering exactly what sort of impression the wizard who lived there was trying to create. That of a color-blind megalomaniac perhaps. Or perhaps he was compensating for something. 

_Let’s hope that your wizard isn’t_ , Softpaws said. _I think I had better take a peek as soon as possible._

_Leave him alone Softy. Besides, you know that Edwin likes gaudy things in general. I’m sure that’s the only reason._

“Let us go see what the wizard has to say then,” Jaheira said as she stepped forward to knock on the door. “Hopefully, he has some valuable information about this alleged captured nymph.”

The wizard Ramazith turned out to be an elderly mage with snowy white hair and a long beard, reminding Zaerini uncomfortably of Elminster. From the sour look Edwin gave him she could tell that he’d made the same association. Ramazith had a gaunt face dominated by a hooked nose and a pair of intelligent dark eyes that quickly scanned his visitors. “Good day, my friends,” he said in a pleasant voice. “I assume you are here about the little mission I need help with?” 

“If you mean the nymph, then yes,” Jaheira said. “What do you know of her?”

The wizard thoughtfully fingered the long staff he was wielding. “Step inside, please,” he said. “These are matters best not discussed in the street.” He ushered the adventurers inside, and Zaerini looked around curiously. The bottom level of the tower was a single large room, which seemed to function as a formal receiving area. Chairs and couches stood here and there, following the terrible color scheme of the tower itself. She felt her stomach beginning to roil slightly as she sat down on a violently pink sofa that reminded her uncomfortably of a flayed body. 

“Tea?” Ramazith asked, and a teapot that was so covered with gold decorations that it was impossible to make out the actual color of it materialized in the air between them. “Nobody? I hope you don’t mind if I have some myself then.” After pouring himself a cup of the sweet-smelling dark fluid he took a small sip and sighed with pleasure. “That’s better. And now, to business. I must warn you though; the matter with which I would have you concern yourselves is not such that the Flaming Fist would approve of it. Is that a problem for you?”

“I suppose that depends on what exactly it is you want us to do,” Zaerini carefully responded. “What about this nymph? I suppose it concerns her?”

Ramazith nodded approvingly. “So it does,” he said. “You see, one of my colleagues, an amateurish mage by the name of Ragefast, has recently succeeded in capturing a nymph. How he managed that I really cannot say, nor do I know what he plans to do with her. But I have seen her with the aid of my magic, and I do know that she is pining away in her captivity. If she is not released soon, she will die. I would have you enter Ragefast’s home, find the nymph and bring her to me. If you do, you will be richly rewarded. Perhaps some magical item would suit you well, yes?”

“And what would you do once you have the nymph in your care?” Jaheira asked. 

“Why, I would try to help the poor creature of course, in any way possible. What say you? Do we have a deal?”

“If you are such a very powerful wizard,” Edwin sneered, “then what do you need our aid for? (Some Archmage. Once I become that ancient, I will already have achieved power enough to evaporate my enemies with a single word. Of course, I will also retain my youthful good looks and impressive physique, I would not stand for becoming a wizened old prune like that.)”

“Because,” Ramazith said in a biting voice, “a wizard knows how to defend against a wizard. But steel and stealth may sometimes succeed easily enough where magic must make an effort. So, do you agree to my proposal?”

“All right,” Rini said. “We’ll go see Ragefast and get the nymph out.” 

“Most agreeable! I will give you directions to Ragefast’s home then, and I will eagerly await your return.” 

Once the adventurers had exited Ramazith’s tower Zaerini started counting silently to herself. _One…two…three…four…_

“I do not trust him!” Jaheira and Edwin said at exactly the same moment, and then paused to give each other an annoyed look. 

_A tie. And here I rather thought Jaheira would win. But they did do it in less than five seconds, so I guess I win my bet with myself_ “Well, neither do I,” the bard mildly said. “And your reasons are?”

“He never said what he would do with the nymph,” Jaheira said. “Help her, he claimed, but in what way? Why not tell us if he had an honest reason for his request?”

“I can guess what he wants,” Edwin said. “Nymphs are powerful magical creatures, even a small lock of their hair can be used to create powerful enchantments. No doubt this Ramazith intends to take the creature for himself, and it wouldn’t surprise me if he tries to kill us after we turn her over to him, to ensure that there will be no gossip. That’s what I would do in his position. (Besides, you obviously cannot trust a man with a beard like that. He is clearly trying to hide something, probably a weak chin.)”

“B-b-but the poor n-nymph!” Khalid said. “We c-cannot simply l-l-leave her.” 

Zaerini shook her head. “We won’t,” she said. “We’ll go and see Ragefast as we promised. Then we’ll see what happens.” 

Ragefast’s home wasn’t nearly as ostentatious as Ramazith’s. It wasn’t even a tower, just a pleasant-looking and not particularly large villa. There were even roses growing in a flowerbed outside it. Most annoyingly however, there was no official response to Jaheira’s insistent knock on the door. There was the faint sound of a female voice from inside the house a few moments later though, crying out for help, for somebody to set her free. All the three half-elves could hear it clearly, though it wasn’t loud enough for the humans and dwarf to catch. 

“We have no time to waste then,” Yeslick grimly said. “We must get inside this house at once, before the wizard does any further harm to the poor nymph.”

Jaheira nodded her agreement. “Imoen, can you get us past this door?”

The thief took a closer look at the lock. “Sure,” she said. “But…it’s broad day-light, remember?” She pointed vaguely in the direction of the street, where people were passing by now and then. 

“That is no problem for my remarkable mystical powers,” Edwin said with a triumphant smile. “Watch, and then be suitably impressed.” He quickly chanted a spell and Imoen disappeared from sight. “You see? Now we can take a short walk around the block as she hopefully gets the job done, and then come back to be ‘let inside’. (And as an added bonus we don’t have to look at that pink hair.)” 

“Very clever, Eddie,” Rini told the wizard with a warm smile. “Are you sure you’ve never been so much as a part-time burglar? You seem to have a natural talent for that…as well, I could add.” 

“Ah,” Edwin stuttered, “of course I do…I mean, I am after all marvelously gifted in every way. Always have been. Sometimes it almost seems unfair that a genius of my magnitude should also have been endowed with the perfect male form. (Now if only she would ask for a practical demonstration…)”

“Oh really? It seems unfair, does it?”

“Yes. But never for long. I deserve to enjoy physical perfection, seeing that I am also so very bright, clever, cunning, resourceful, brave, charming, witty…”

“Modest?”

“Absolutely. Yes, all in all, you will never find a more uniquely superior specimen of young wizard-hood anywhere.” 

Zaerini smiled brightly and gave the wizard’s hand a brief squeeze; something that made his eyes go slightly unfocused and his mouth drop open. “Yes, you certainly are unique, Eddie,” the bard said. “And that’s just the way I like you.”

It took five laps around the block until Imoen had finally got the door open. “At last!” Jaheira said. “Whatever took you so long?”

“Huh,” Imoen’s disembodied voice said from near the slightly open door. “Just _you_ try picking a lock when you can’t even see your own fingers, much less the lockpick.” 

“P-p-please,” Khalid pleaded, “l-ladies, try to keep your v-v-voices down, or that evil w-wizard in there will turn us all into t-toads or r-r-rabbits.”

“You might actually like that,” Edwin innocently remarked. “Rabbits are very fleet of foot, after all.” 

“No time for arguments,” Yeslick admonished. “The nymph, remember?”

Ragefast’s home didn’t resemble Ramazith’s very much. _But I don’t suppose there’s any reason why it should_ , Zaerini thought. _Just because they’re both wizards that doesn’t mean they have to be similar in any other ways._

The adventurers crossed a long hall with a black-and-white tiled floor towards a larger chamber, and a room that held a marvel such that the bard’s eyes widened with wonder. The floor was inlaid with a beautiful mosaic, one depicting the entire world, nation by nation, but that was not what had attracted her attention. Nor was it the many strange contraptions and alchemical apparatus standing along the walls. No, it was the giant device that dominated the center of the room, with its enormous glassy eye turned towards the roof and the window there that provided a free view of the heavens. She had read about such things, gnomish inventions that could enable you to see the stars up close, but she had never seen one for real. 

Behind the large machine a woman’s voice could be heard, clear and musical, but also weak and tired. “Please, my Ragefast,” it sighed. “Release me, I beg of thee. Surely, thou must see what is happening? To both of us?”

“No!” a male voice responded, speaking in an accent that vaguely reminded Rini of Edwin. 

_Ha!_ Softpaws said. _Everything reminds you of him these days._

_No it doesn’t!_

_Oh no? How about spending a couple of hours last night, hours when you should have been reading your spells, staring at the pages and wondering if he was reading the same spell at the same time?_

_That’s so untrue!_

_As is mentally trying out a new last name for yourself? ‘Zaerini Odesseiron’…admit you’ve been thinking of it._

_Blatant lies. All right, maybe I did think of it. Briefly. But only as a thought experiment, it does have a nice ring to it after all. Now don’t disturb me, I want to hear what Ragefast says._

“Abela!” said the male voice which presumably belonged to Ragefast. “Why canst thou not see? We are destined to be together, whether ye know it or no.”

The female voice sighed sadly. “Destiny or no, I am not long for this place.”

_Right_ , Rini thought. _I think that’s our cue_. And so she stepped around the large star-watching machine, to find a remarkably beautiful woman and a very unremarkable man. 

The nymph was beautiful of course, as all nymphs are. This one had hair of a rich golden color with just a hint of green to it, and it flowed like a silky waterfall down her attractive back. Her eyes were green as well, like sunlight shining through new leaves, and her face was indescribably lovely. The green dress she was wearing was just revealing enough that one could tell that her body was just as perfect as her face. 

There was definitely something wrong with her though. As beautiful as she was, she also looked pale, and very tired. And she was wearing a thin collar of braided silver around her neck, and fingered it nervously as she spoke. _I think that must be the binding item_ , Zaerini thought. _The wizard must somehow be keeping her from escaping him, after all. It’s probably muting her powers as well, or he wouldn’t even be able to look straight at her. Nor would we, for that matter._

Ragefast the Wizard himself was an unremarkable young man, skinny and with rather large hands and feet, and with uneven tufts of what he probably intended to be an impressive beard in a few decades. _What is it about wizards and beards anyway? Eddie looks really cute in his of course, but he’d look equally cute without it I’m sure. And this guy would look much better without his._

_I think_ , Softpaws said, _they do it to look older. But you’re right; your wizard does have nice face-fur._

_Oh, he does. I wouldn’t want him to go over-the-top like Elminster though. There’s such a thing as too much._

Ragefast didn’t look at all pleased at seeing six strangers enter his private laboratory. “What!?” he cried out. “What bandit dares enter the home of Ragefast?! Identify your purpose here, that I might know what to put on thy tombstone!”

“You dare call us bandits?” Jaheira said as she stepped forwards, her hand on the hilt of her scimitar. “You, who have imprisoned a free creature of the wilderness, enslaving her to your will? Let her go now, or you will regret it.” The druid was glaring at Ragefast in a manner that indicated that such regret would be very brief indeed. 

Some of Ragefast’s anger dissipated, but he wasn’t about to give in yet. “No!” he cried out, grasping the nymph’s slender arm so hard that it made her wince with pain. “You do not understand! I love Abela, I truly love her! She is the most wondrous creature I have ever seen, my love, and my very life! She makes me forget everything else, even my most precious spells; I want nothing more than her. I would be hers as well, but it takes time! She will grow to care for me, as I her! I just have to make her see…”

“You say you love her,” Rini said, struggling to control the anger that was trying to take control of her once more. “But you show your love by taking her prisoner, keeping her here against her will? If you truly loved her you would do what’s best for her, not for yourself. If you truly loved her you would set her free.” Out of the corner of her eye she could glimpse Edwin startling at her words, looking uncomfortable. She had to concentrate on Ragefast though. 

“You do not understand,” the young mage whispered, giving the nymph a pleading look. “I love her. I…I never loved another woman as I love her. All others wither in my eyes as I look upon her. I must keep her, I shall die without her. She will…she will love me. She will learn to be happy here. We will grow old together.” 

Zaerini felt that old and familiar anger seething deep in her soul, straining against her will. _How dare he speak of love? He keeps her collared like a pet and claims to love her? He blinds himself to her pain. He has taken her freedom from her_. The flames were rising, flickering higher and higher, the blood was singing in her veins, singing of the glory of murder. 

YES! Her sire’s voice was like the door to a crypt slamming open in her soul, bringing with it the darkness and stench of the grave. SLAY HIM DAUGHTER. YOU KNOW HE DESERVES IT. HE IS ONE WHO IMPRISONS ANOTHER, KEEPS HER FOR HIS PLAYTHING. THE SORT OF CREATURE YOU HATE THE MOST. LOOK, HE IS TURNING HIS FACE AWAY FROM YOU. HOW EASY IT WILL BE TO DRIVE YOUR BLADE THROUGH HIS BODY, TO FEEL HIS FOUL BLOOD ON YOUR FACE, TO SEAR HIS SOUL WITH THE FIRES OF YOUR MAGIC. DO IT DAUGHTER. IT WOULD BE JUSTICE, YOU KNOW IT. 

Zaerini felt her fists clench, her teeth bite into her lower lip. The taste of blood enticed the flames, made them roar even louder in her ears. She could barely hear the voice of Ragefast any more, and her vision was shrinking, shrinking until the wizard’s scrawny throat was all she could see through the dancing flames. The prey. The jailer. It would be just. Wouldn’t it? 

And then the sweet and clear voice of Abela broke through her trance, dousing the flames like gentle rain. “Look unto me, Ragefast. My beauty fades even now. Keep me here, and you will only keep me for a short while before I fade entirely.” 

Ragefast paled visibly and went to his knees before her. “Abela, your beauty is as brilliant now as the day I found you. Say not such things.”

The nymph sighed. “'Tis flattering, but you are blinded by your passion. Truly see what is become of me. I should not age, but my spirit fades in this ugly place. Yours does as well, but from obsession over me. If you love me, my Ragefast, if you truly love me as you say, then you will set me free, as this woman said.” 

There were tears rolling down the wizard’s cheeks by now. “But we were meant for each other! Your very words had said so! Please Abela, you know it is so!” 

Abela smiled a sad smile, stroking Ragefast’s hair. “In my glade, amidst the stars and moon. 'Twas beauty in that, but I cannot be confined with thee. I am not human, and this is not my home.”

“But…but this is MY home…”

Zaerini stared at the crying wizard, trying to shut out the insistent voice in her mind. WASTE NO MORE TIME, DAUGHTER! SEE, HE IS HELPLESS AGAINST YOU! SLAY HIM NOW, AND THE NYMPH SHALL BE FREE, AS YOU WISH HER TO BE. YOU KNOW HOW IMPORTANT FREEDOM IS TO YOU. 

The words were like a spear through her soul, sending an icy sliver of pain through her. _Yes, ‘Father’! Freedom. Like my own freedom, to make my own choices, and not to be your puppet on a string. I will not become another Sarevok, and I will not be your slave. Now leave me BE!_ The voice of the dead god faded gradually into nothingness, though her mind was still a maelstrom of confusion and panic. _Oh gods, he almost got me that time. I was so close…so close to killing this man, without even trying to reason with him. I must control myself better, or I will be no better off than my brother._

_You do that, kitten_ , Softpaws said. _Spikes wouldn’t really suit you, you know._

_They don’t suit Sarevok either._

_Yes kitten. I know. But you did well. A cat should not be commanded, and you were not. Now go on._

“Look at Abela, Ragefast,” Rini said, making her voice as calm and as convincing as she could. “And this time, really look at her. See how pale she is? She is fading and you know it, though you may have tried to keep yourself from realizing it. In time she will die. You say you love her. I say it is time you proved it. Let her go.” 

For an agonizingly long moment the wizard hesitated, and she wondered if they were going to have to fight him after all. But then his eyes darkened with pain and he touched the silver collar, making it fall to pieces with a word and a gesture. “It…it is so,” he said. “Forgive me, Abela. They say the beauty of a nymph can blind a man, and I was blinded to the truth. I release you from my enchantments, and you are free to leave.” He stepped back; his eyes downcast. “Please do not hate me. I never wished you harm. I loved you. But now I know, the price of love is loss. Never did I wish to hurt you.” 

Abela smiled then, her face radiant and already healthier looking. “This I know,” she said. “’Tis my nature to breed obsession in men. I do not hate you.” She gave the quietly weeping wizard a brief kiss on the cheek and then turned to the adventurers. “And as for you, my friends and saviors, my gratitude is boundless!” Taking out a small knife she cut off a thick lock of her glittering hair and handed it to Zaerini. “Take this lock of my hair, to remember me by. And now, farewell.” She smiled again. “I doubt I shall seek the company of men for some time.” A silvery portal formed in the air behind her and she stepped through it, waving merrily. 

As the adventurers left Ragefast’s house their thoughts were all of what they had just seen. “I am glad this turned out so well,” Jaheira said. “Very well done, child. Gorion would have been as proud of you as I am.” 

“Do you really think so?” Rini asked. 

“I know so. I knew him well, and he would have done just the same.” The druid hesitated for a moment. “You know, child…blood is not everything. Gorion was your father too, and today you proved that.”

The bard felt very pleased with this compliment, but she couldn’t quite escape her nagging doubt. “Thanks, Jaheira. That means a lot. But you know…I almost…”

The druid shrugged. “What is ‘almost’?” she asked. “What matters is what you did, and you did well.” Then she frowned. “Ramazith will not be pleased of course, but that cannot be helped.” 

“Oh n-n-no…” Khalid moaned. “D-did you have to s-say that? I’d almost m-m-managed to forget about him.” 

“Well, he will nay forget about us,” Yeslick said. “We might as well go see him right now. If he’s honest as he says, he will understand.”

“And if h-h-he is n-not?”

The dwarf smiled. “Why, then I guess we’ll just have to explain it to him.” He tapped his hammer against his palm. “Politely of course.” 

Imoen was smiling brightly, and now she tugged at her best friend’s sleeve. “Oh Rini, wasn’t this romantic? Imagine, he really loved her, and he sacrificed that love so she would be all right! I think that’s just so incredibly sweet and aw-worthy! Don’t you agree, Edwin?” 

“I say it was incredibly idiotic,” the wizard sneered, “and the idiot deserves to be hung from his thumbs and flogged with electric eels for shaming wizard-hood like that with his soppy bawling.” There was a distressed look in his eyes though, despite the sharp words, and Rini wasn’t late to pick up on it. 

“Immy, excuse us for a moment, would you?” she asked the pink-haired thief. Once she had got Edwin out of hearing-range from the others she addressed him, as quietly as she could. “Edwin? What’s wrong? And don’t pretend otherwise, I can tell something’s bothering you.” 

The wizard was silent for a few moments, and once he spoke again his voice was troubled and he had a far-away look in his dark eyes. “I…was just wondering,” he said. “If I were in his position…what I really would have done.” 

“You would have done the right thing. You would have let her go.” 

“Do you think so?” 

“Of course I do. You may pretend differently, but I figure I know you pretty well by now. If you really cared about somebody you wouldn’t want her dead because of you. Even if it would hurt you.”

“No…” Edwin said, and he still sounded a bit distant. “I suppose not.”

“Still,” Rini said with a smile, “it’s not as if you’re ever going to have to make that decision. I’m not about to let you go about capturing any lovely nymphs you know.” 

And then she felt her breath catch in her throat as the wizard smiled a mischievous smile in return. _Oh gods, he’s gorgeous. And those eyes…_

“No?” Edwin asked. “I think it may be a little late for that. (Though I will leave it unsaid just who has captured whom.) And if I have any choice about it, I will never let her go.” Then he suddenly started violently and cursed out loud in Thayvian as a furry black streak shot out from under his robes. “What,” he said once he finally found his voice again, “in the Nine Hells was that?” 

“Ah…” Zaerini said, feeling herself blush furiously as a wild torrent of very interesting images bombarded her across the mental link she shared with her familiar. Softpaws had been in a bit of a hurry and the pictures were blurred, but she could make out just enough to further fuel her imagination. “I think Softy was trying to do some practical research. You know what they say about how curious cats are.”


	56. Galloping Golem and Passionate Pirates

**In The Cards 56 – Galloping Golem and Passionate Pirates**

_There is one skill that is especially important in many professions but is invaluable to the aspiring rogue. That is the ability to ignore rules when necessary. You may have learnt exactly how to backstab a certain type of foe, for example, but what do you do if he happens to be wearing a new suit of enchanted armor impervious to your weapon? In this case you must forget about what you have learnt and seek an alternate solution, such as hiding in his room until he falls asleep and then smothering him with his own pillow. Use your imagination and let what you have learnt be guidance, not a strangling noose. Not that there is anything wrong with nooses._

_Excerpt from ‘Interview With An Assassin’._

This time Ramazith didn’t even bother to pretend to be friendly. “Traitors!” he roared as soon as he saw the adventurers. “Do you have even the faintest idea of what you have done?”

“We set the captured nymph free,” Jaheira said, giving the wizard a cool look. “I believe that is what you requested.” 

“Imbecile! Brainless half-wit! I wanted you to bring her here! Her body would have supplied such a quantity of spell-components as to make me as rich as Entar Silvershield. You will pay for this!” With a string of hastily muttered words and a few hand gestures a bright lightning bolt flew from his hand, bringing Jaheira to her knees with a muffled cry of pain. 

“N-n-no!” Khalid screamed. “Jaheira! NOOOO!” Snarling with uncharacteristic fury the normally timid half-elf leapt at Ramazith, the sword of the Black King flashing purple as it arced through the air towards the wizard’s heart. It never struck its target though, for just then a silvery nimbus enveloped Ramazith, and the wizard faded from sight. 

“You would fight me?” his voice taunted as it gradually faded as well. “Then so be it! Find me at the top of my tower – if you can!” 

“Shouldn’t be that hard,” Edwin said with a shrug. “It’s not as if there are all that many places to hide at the top of a tower. (And besides, his inferior party-trick magic will be no match for the unbridled fury of my power.)” 

Fortunately, Jaheira hadn’t been seriously harmed, and after Yeslick had come to her aid and healed her she was soon able to stand on her own feet, shaking off all efforts to assist her. “I am fine!” she eventually snapped. “I am no baby and need no coddling, Khalid, so kindly stop dancing about like a hen trying to lay an egg.” 

“I am s-s-sorry Jaheira,” the warrior said, a small smile on his narrow face. “But t-telling me not t-to worry for you is l-like telling the ocean to d-dry up or the s-sun to cool down. It’s all a p-p-part of loving you.” 

Zaerini was looking straight at Jaheira at that moment, and so she was able to catch the sudden shift of expression on the druid’s face, the brief and infinitely tender look that leapt into her eyes as she gazed upon her husband. She was certain that Khalid noticed it as well. Then the moment passed and Jaheira was back to her normal brisk self, but still smiling faintly. “Poetic ramblings,” she said, but her voice was warm. “That will get us nowhere. Surely you remember that we have a wizard to fight?”

“Y-yes, Jaheira.” 

_They love each other so much_ , Zaerini thought as she watched her two friends. _They just have their own way of expressing that love. As do we all, I suppose._

The first few floor of Ramazith’s tower were relatively easily stormed. There were kobolds, hobgoblins and zombies, none of them posing a particularly great threat. The biggest problem was climbing all the seemingly endless stairs, which were made from glittering white stone, and more than a little slippery. Even worse, if you didn’t watch yourself very carefully, they tried to throw you off, imbued as they were with some sort of enchantment. Rini correctly guessed that Ramazith had probably planned it that way; so that unwelcome visitors would be exhausted by the time they reached him, while he could simply teleport to the top. Then, however, came a really serious obstacle. “There’s something really bad up there,” Imoen whispered as she returned from her scouting of the next floor. “Looks a bit like a flesh golem, but it’s bigger and not the same color.” 

Edwin’s head turned sharply in her direction. “Can you describe it more accurately?” he said in a business-like voice. “I am an expert on all the known kinds of golems, you know. I even had a doll-golem of my own when I was a child.”

“Doll-golem?”

“Oh yes. A golem in the shape of a child’s stuffed toy, a very effective guardian. But unless you found a ferocious teddy-bear upstairs I assume that’s not it.” 

Imoen shook her head. “It looked like a very big man, bigger even than Sarevok. It had a flat face and no neck, and big strong arms.” She shuddered briefly. “And very big fists. Oh, yeah. And it smelled a bit like mud, now that I think about it.” 

Edwin’s face went grim. “A clay golem,” he said. “Not as bad as it could be – at least it isn’t a Juggernaut – but dangerous all the same. Only blunt enchanted weapons will even dent them, you know. Swords will do no good.” 

As if on cue everybody turned to look at Yeslick, and at the moderately enchanted hammer he had been fortunate enough to find in Durlag’s Tower. Zaerini tried to form a mental image of a golem bigger than Sarevok. The dwarf seemed very small next to it. 

“No way!” Imoen exclaimed. “He’ll get smashed!”

“There, there,” Yeslick said. “Clangeddin’s will be done.” 

“D’you really think Clangeddin wants to see your skull cracked open like an egg? Because I don’t. Why don’t we just leave Ramazith alone?”

“I don’t think that’s an option,” Rini said, shaking her head so that her red locks danced about her face. “He was very angry. If we don’t take him out now, he’s going to come after us later, when we may not be prepared for it.” She barely managed to catch her balance as the stairs once again tried to break her neck. “Stupid stairs…” 

“You know,” Edwin pensively said, “that gives me an idea…” 

A short while later Zaerini and Imoen were both hunched down at the top of the stairs, one to either side, both of them invisible. Rini tried not to look at the golem that paced tirelessly around the chamber where the stairs ended; sometimes passing by so close that she could have touched it if she’d reached out her hand, and the smell of clay was thick in her nostrils. The floor shook slightly under its great weight with every step it took, and yes, it was indeed taller than even Sarevok. Its face was flat and looked like it had been squashed, sort of as if it had been molded by an impatient child without much artistic skill. The large head rested directly on top of the massive chest, and its arms and fists were enormous. She tried not to think about one of those fists connecting with her head. Slowly waddling from side to side on bowed legs it wore a sort of leather loincloth. _I really can’t imagine why_ , Rini thought. _It’s not as if it has anything to be modest about. Or at least I hope so. Eeeeewwww!_

And then Edwin stepped up the stairs, passing around the bend so that he became visible to the golem. He still hadn’t had the chance to replace his previously broken staff and so was unarmed except for a small sling, and he looked hideously vulnerable to the bard’s eyes. She was starting to wonder if this had been such a good idea after all. “You there!” the wizard cried out in an imperious voice. “Mud-head! Are you as stupid as you are ugly?” Then he flung a rock at the golem, hitting it square on the forehead.

The golem slowly turned its head, making no sound whatsoever, but the dull orange glow in its eyes increased a little. Still silently, it raised its hand, activating one of its innate magical abilities, and then it was no longer slow or clumsy. With lightning-quick speed it thundered towards the stairs, intent on protecting its master’s abode and on crushing the intruder. It was then that Zaerini and Imoen raised the rope they were holding between them. Moving too quickly to stop, the golem crashed straight into the rope, losing its balance, trying to flail its arms around to regain its footing. Too late. The golem’s clay face wasn’t designed to express surprise, but if it had been it surely would have. Edwin just managed to press himself against the wall as the giant clay construct tumbled past him down the enchanted stairs with a sound like rolling thunder straight overhead, cracks forming all over its body as they struck it again and again. Eventually, the booming noises were replaced with a sound reminiscent of a very large clay pot shattering into a million pieces. 

“It is dead,” Jaheira said in a satisfied voice once she had crept down the stairs to check on the golem. “The largest bits are no bigger than my thumbnail. Well done, Edwin. A clever plan.” 

“Of course,” the wizard said, preening. “All my plans are clever, cunning, diabolical and ingenious.” He had a very pleased smile on his face. “Killing a golem with a single sling shot is only a feat worthy of my greatness. (I can’t wait until I get the chance to thoroughly describe it to an appreciative audience.)” 

“It was an excellent plan,” Rini agreed. “I hope we’ll be able to handle Ramazith as easily.” 

Ramazith, as it happened, was waiting in the final chamber at the top of the stairs past the room where the golem had been. Imoen scouted ahead once again and was able to report that the wizard was pacing back and forth, looking very nervous. The noisy destruction of his golem could hardly have escaped him. 

“Hm,” Rini said. “Let’s see if we can make that nervousness work against us. I think it’s time Big Brother gave us a hand once again.” She carefully climbed the stairs, taking care to keep out of sight of the doorway at the top of them, and then she used her power of mimicry and sent her voice flying. As she had done before, she let her voice take on the aspect of Sarevok in all its deep and booming glory. “Ramazith!” Sarevok’s voice bellowed from within the wizard’s chamber. “It is time to meet your doom. Face me if you dare! Face the new Lord of Murder!” 

“Yyyaaarrrgh!” Ramazith screamed, and fired off several spells in the direction from which the voice had sounded, blasting a priceless cabinet into smithereens. 

“Spineless worm!” the voice of Sarevok boomed again, this time behind Ramazith’s back. “Do you think your puny magic can harm ME? A GOD?” 

Wild-eyed and with his beard standing on end Ramazith once again tried to obliterate his invisible assailant, once again in vain. The deep-throated evil chuckle that rang in his ears did nothing to calm him down. 

_That ought to take care of at least his most dangerous spells_ , Rini thought. _Now to move before he figures it out._

“Worry not about the nymph’s bodyparts!” she shouted, still in Sarevok’s voice, and still projecting it into empty air, this time directly over Ramazith’s head. “Try to worry about your own!” With that she sent a bright Fireball into the room, and as she heard the wizard shriek with pain and smelled the burning flesh she smiled in a way that would certainly have unsettled her companions had they seen it. The fires were dancing in her blood as well, dancing as they had when she faced Ragefast. Him she had spared. This one she would not, and a part of her soul, the darkest and deadliest part, rejoiced at the thought of the slaughter ahead. 

Ramazith had wasted several of his spells already, but he was still a deadly foe. Throwing up a magical shield he responded with a blast of blue light, and Edwin and Imoen got caught in it, whipped by the power of magically induced cold. Khalid and Yeslick vainly tried to break through the shimmering shield surrounding the wizard, their weapons making not the slightest dent on his body. Then a spell cast by Jaheira dissolved Ramazith’s magical protection, and the wizard screamed as several of Zaerini’s Magic Missiles hit him in the face. But when the sword of the Black King pierced his heart he did not scream. He simply bent forwards and collapsed, blood trickling from his mouth and into his long beard, and no spells came forth as he breathed out one final time. 

“And th-that was for h-h-hurting Jaheira,” Khalid said. 

Once the wounded party members had been seen to, the time came to search Ramazith’s tower. There were some interesting scrolls in his bookshelves, and one especially interesting magical tome. Rini examined it carefully. If she were correct about this she wouldn’t regret having come to this place. Edwin, meanwhile, appropriated the dead wizard’s staff, smiling delightedly as he slid his hands along the runes winding themselves along it. “Very nice,” he said. “It holds a great deal of power. And not only that. Watch!” As he pressed a certain spot along the shaft a sharp blade slid out of the top of the staff, looking very deadly indeed. “This can be most useful in an extreme situation. (Not that I am likely to ever run out of spells, my masterful mind being able to memorize so many more than that of a mere ordinary mortal, but nevertheless a useful weapon.) And it makes me look even more dangerous and intimidating than before.” He struck a proud pose with the staff, narrowly missing giving Khalid an unwanted shave and grinned like a small child with a delightful birthday present.

“Sure, Eddie,” Zaerini said with a smile of her own. “You look really cute.” 

“Not cute! I said intimidating, are your pointy ears so clogged with wax that you didn’t hear me the first time? (Though in her case I suppose I could make an exception.)” Then he fell silent as the half-elf patted him on the arm. 

“Right,” she said. “Very…intimidating.” 

After the ordeal of Ramazith’s tower the adventurers felt the need for some relaxation, not to mention some good food, and they set course for a nice tavern where they enjoyed an excellent meal. “Oh, chocolate pudding!” Imoen exclaimed as the dessert was set on the table. “Yummy! Don’t you think so, Rini?”

The bard didn’t answer. She had to concentrate on keeping her mouth shut in order not to drool on the tablecloth. 

“Here,” Edwin said, pushing his own bowl across the table. “You have it, I’m full already.” 

“Really?”

“Yes,” the wizard said, with a smile that seemed almost shy. “I…would like you to have it.” 

“That’s very kind of you,” Rini said, her golden eyes glittering as she looked into those of the wizard. “And I must repeat, I think you’re the most intimidating wizard I’ve ever met.” She felt as if she were dancing on clouds, and not primarily because of the chocolate itself either. In fact, she felt happy enough that not even the slight stomachache she felt after finishing off the two bowls of chocolate-pudding bothered her in the least. 

The estate of Oberon was located in the very center of Baldur’s Gate, not far from the Ducal Palace itself. It was a large pink monstrosity, and the Flaming Fist patrolled the streets surrounding it regularly. Like guards in most places they knew perfectly well that there were certain areas of the city where they’d rather not be at night, since they would risk running into dangerous lawbreakers. This wasn’t such an area though, and so far, Imoen had had to avoid several Fist soldiers. Not that there was an actual law against walking the streets near the homes of the wealthy at night, but she wouldn’t have been surprised if they’d made one up for her benefit. 

On the other side of the carnival across from the mansions lay something that the pink-haired thief found almost equally fascinating. A carnival, currently closed for the night, but she could still see the interesting shapes of tents, animal cages and all sorts of interesting swings and stuff. _I’ll have to ask Rini if we can go there. Maybe tomorrow. Hm, maybe I can have some fun right now…_

Satisfied with this pleasant idea Imoen climbed over the temporary fence surrounding the square where the carnival currently lodged. It wasn’t long before she had managed to find a set of swings. Just regular ones, not the big gnome-enhanced ones, but she was beginning to get good speed out of them already. _Wheeee! This is great! Feels almost like flying! Oh look, I can see the sky beneath my feet. I wonder what it would feel like if you could walk on the clouds. Pretty stars tonight too. Let’s see…there’s the Lady. And the Dragon. The Sickle. The River_. The swing was moving slowly and gently by now, which was probably a good thing since Imoen’s entire attention was fixed on the stars. “I wonder what that one is called…” she said to herself, spotting a constellation that she didn’t recognize. 

“It’s called ‘The Girl Who Got Killed From Letting Herself Get Surprised’.”

Imoen gasped and had to clutch the ropes to the swing tightly in order not to fall off. “Adahn! I didn’t see you there! Are you all right? I mean with the vampire and all?” 

“Obviously, you didn’t see me.” The dark shape of the older rogue was standing nearby, almost invisible in the shadows next to a strange contraption that could have been either a torture-instrument or some sort of entertainment ride. Something about his stance definitely made it seem more ominous than humorous. He had pulled his hood up so she couldn’t make out much of his face, but he sounded clearly amused. “And yes, I am fine. Have you finished playing yet?”

“Sure!” Imoen said as she jumped off the swing, smiling brightly at her friend. “Unless you want a go? It’s really fun…”

“I think I’ll pass, thank you. For somebody in our line of work ‘swinging’ tends to carry unpleasant associations with it. I have promised myself to avoid it if at all possible. Which constellation were you wondering about, by the way?”

Imoen pointed. “That one. The one with the big sort of greenish star at one end.” 

Adahn looked up. “That would be The Fox, but you can’t see it very clearly right now. Still, not too bad. It’s supposed to bring cunning and guile if you believe in that sort of thing.”

“You don’t?”

“Of course not. The stars do not make our luck for us. We have to do that ourselves, not counting Tymora’s possible blessings.”

Imoen sighed. “I guess you’re right. They sure are beautiful though.” _I’m stargazing with him! Well, sort of anyway. Maybe it’s not a true romantic moment, but it’s definitely a Moment all the same._

“Yes,” Adahn agreed. “But this is really nothing. In the city, there are far too many bright lights for you to see them properly.” He paused, and when he spoke again there was an oddly wistful note to his voice. “Once you have spent a night alone on the plains, with nothing but a sea of grass around you and the vast sky overhead – then you will know how stars can really look.” 

“Wow…you’re really lucky to have seen that.” 

Adahn gave the sky one last look, but he didn’t answer her directly, and his face remained hidden. “Perhaps,” he simply said. “Now tell me more about Oberon.” 

Imoen, still puzzled at his odd mood, went on to once again describe how the nobleman Oberon currently had given the three daughters of the powerful wizard Shandalar leave to use his estate to guard three valuable artifacts, a gem, a holy statue and a special spellbook. These artifacts were ingredients crucial to the construction of a Halruuan Skyship, and naturally the wizards of Halruua weren’t pleased about the thought of their treasured secret leaking out. “So, I’m supposed to fetch them,” Imoen explained. 

“And what of these daughters? Do you know anything about them?”

“They’re supposed to be wizards as well.”

“I see.” Adahn put a hand on Imoen’s shoulder, and she felt certain that she was blushing again. “You do realize that if they should manage to discover us, we may have to kill them?” 

Imoen swallowed heavily. “I…I suppose if they try to kill us first…but…but we won’t do it unless we absolutely have to, right? Right?” 

The older rogue smiled briefly. “No. Killing them needlessly serves no purpose; it would only cause a stir among the Fist. And besides, you aren’t going to get paid for it. We will only do it if it’s truly necessary.”

“Oh. I…I guess I hadn’t thought of it that way.” 

A short while later Imoen was examining the lock to Oberon’s estate, all the time nervously expecting to hear a Flaming Fist soldier raise the alarm. The two rogues had waited until they’d just seen a guard pass by, so there shouldn’t be another for some time, but they couldn’t be certain. “What if the Fist come?” she whispered. 

“Then we avoid them,” Adahn calmly said and watched over her shoulder. “Carry on.” 

“But what if we can’t?”

“Then we deal with them otherwise.” 

“But…”

“Of course, if you don’t focus on that lock, we will both die from old age before that happens.” 

“Oh. Sorry.” 

The lock was certainly a difficult one, and Imoen started to feel nervous beads of sweat forming on her forehead. Eventually, after what felt like an eternity, she got it open. Inside, the house was dark and silent. Unfortunately, it was also vast. Imoen looked about the vast expanse of floor and the seemingly endless pieces of furniture with some despair. There seemed to be any number of places where three small and valuable objects could be hidden. “Not really,” Adahn said once she voiced this doubt. “Think about it. They must be in a safe place, or what the mages think is a safe place. So, the first thing we should do is…?”

“Er…I…”

“To try to find guards, traps or dangerous beasts that may indicate the presence of something really valuable of course. Really, you should have been able to guess that. I think we’ll go upstairs first; in case the things are hidden in these three women’s bedrooms. And try not to make too much noise. Wizardesses tend to be cranky when woken up.” 

Imoen swallowed. “Right,” she said. “Upstairs it is then.” After carefully making her way upstairs, disarming several traps in the wall along the staircase as she did so, Imoen eventually found herself inside a dark bedroom, crammed with heavy books. There were books everywhere. In the overflowing shelves, on the desk and the chairs, in stacks and heaps all over the floor. _This is a nightmare_ , Imoen thought. _If the spellbook is one of these, how can I possibly hope to find it?_ Then, slowly, she turned around to see the dark shape in the bed. The woman was sleeping, breathing quietly and deeply, her brown hair flowing out across the pillow. And she was holding something in her hand, half hidden beneath the pillow. A book. Carefully, oh so carefully, the pink-haired thief knelt by the bed, hardly daring to breathe. She could just about make out the golden letters along the pink-leather spine of the book. ‘Passionate Pirates – Tamara’s Release’, by Cyrindipita Luscious. _Oh drat_ , Imoen thought. _Figures that it was too good to be true. Hey…’Passionate Pirates’…I haven’t read that one yet. I wonder if I could get it without her noticing…_

And then Imoen felt Adahn’s hand brush hers in warning, and she hastily pulled back. _Oops…mustn’t forget myself. Focus, Immy, focus. Let’s see…hey! What’s that?_ She had spotted another book, this one tucked into the crook of the sleeping woman’s arm. This one wasn’t a romance novel. It was big and dark, and there were little woodcuts of horrible leering faces all along the spine. And yes, there was the title. ‘Harnessing the Wind’. That was the one she wanted. But how to get it without waking the wizardess up? She was just contemplating this when her companion leaned in closer to her. “When you hear a noise, hold your breath and count to twenty,” he whispered into her ear, so quietly that it was almost inaudible. Imoen nodded, suppressing a sigh. _His lips actually touched my ear…it’s so unfair that he’s taken. If he weren’t, I might have persuaded him to nibble it, like Lothar Mondragon did with the tempestuous maiden Celestina in ‘And Her Bodice Ripped In Twain’._

Adahn moved closer towards the bed, silent as a shadow, and then there was the faint sound of some tiny glass object breaking and something sharp stung Imoen’s nostrils. She obediently held her breath and counted slowly to twenty. 

“She won’t raise the alarm now,” Adahn said quietly. “You can get the book.”

Imoen gave the woman in the bed a worried look. “You…you didn’t…”

“Kill her? No. She’s just drugged. She will wake up in ten hours with a bad headache. Unfortunately, I only had one of these or we could do the same to her sisters. Now get the book.” 

Imoen smiled and stuffed the spellbook into her backpack. After thinking a moment, she let ‘Passionate Pirates’ make it company. _I’ve been waiting ages for the new Cyrindipita Luscious novel…I’d never forgive myself if I didn’t get it when I had the chance. Heh, for a second there I thought he meant to kill her. Silly. He said he wouldn’t do that unless it was necessary, after all._

“Passionate Pirates?” Adahn said in a very emotionless voice. 

“Well…I…”

“Never mind. It is your business. However, as I have met actual live pirates I feel it is my duty to warn you that the sort of passions they normally exhibit are not the kind you’d want to be exposed to. Just thought you ought to know.” He then walked out of the room while shaking his head, murmuring something that sounded like ‘At least she isn’t trying to summon up demons.’ 

Bedroom number two and three contained sleeping wizardesses, but no trace of any magical artifacts other than normal spell components and spellbooks. Imoen did take the opportunity to pocket some nice jewelry though, and she noticed that her companion seemed particularly interested in the loose scrolls lying around here and there, though he only kept a few. Then, however, they found the Gem Room. Imoen had no idea what the room was ordinarily used for, and she didn’t really care. What mattered was that once she had worked her way through all the ten cunning traps and intricate locks on the door her fingers ached with exhaustion, as did her shoulders and back. “You are far too tense,” Adahn whispered. “You need to relax more, then you won’t get tired so easily.”

A bit morosely Imoen wondered if she would ever be able to be that relaxed while disarming dangerous traps with sleeping mages close by. And then she completely forgot about that as the door opened and she beheld the Gem Room. The artifact kept here was a glowing green rock, and it sat on a stone pedestal on the other side of the room, without so much as a glass case around it. However, it didn’t really need one, as the entire floor of the room was covered with a thick mass of writhing green snakes, all of them hissing threateningly. “Uh-Oh…” she whispered. “Now what?”

Adahn watched the snakes closely, frowning. “I think I’ve seen something like this before…yes. There it is. Look at the snakes again. And this time, really look.”

Imoen obediently looked, unsure of what it was she was supposed to see. Snakes. Lots of identical green snakes, moving as if in a dance together, all at once… “That’s strange…” she said. “They all move at the same time.”

Her companion gave her an approving smile. “Yes. Very good. Now follow my lead.” With that he calmly walked straight into the heap of hissing snakes that reached him almost to his knees at times. Strangely enough he didn’t seem the least bit impeded by them. Eventually he stopped, waving for Imoen to follow him. 

_This is nuts_ , Imoen thought. _But if he wants me to do it…_ Then she followed her instructor into the snakes, hardly daring to breathe. _That’s strange. I can’t feel a thing. It’s…it’s as if they…aren’t really there_. “It’s an illusion, isn’t it?” she whispered. “They aren’t real.” 

“Exactly. See how they all move at once? That is the clue that tells you they’re fake.” Adahn paused. “Except of course for the one snake that’s real. They had to use something for a template after all.” 

“Real? Real?!”

“Don’t worry. I always carry some antidote with me.” 

“But…” 

“But we shouldn’t have to use it. Far better to turn the tables, so to speak. See if you can spot where in the room that the snakes seem to have clearer colors and are less fuzzy.” 

Imoen squinted. “I think…over there,” she eventually said, pointing. 

“Yes, that seems about a right. Just a moment.” The black-haired rogue waded through the mass of snakes and then bent down. There was a brief hiss, a cracking sound, and then all the snakes suddenly disappeared. All except the one that currently limply hung from Adahn’s dagger of course. _Poor thing_ , Imoen thought. _But I wouldn’t have wanted to risk stepping on it, antidote or no antidote._ “There we are,” Adahn said in a satisfied voice. “Now let’s take a look at that gem, shall we?”

The gem in question lay peacefully on its small pedestal. Imoen was just about to reach out for it when she noticed the hair-thin crack encircling the top of the pedestal. “I think there may be a trap,” she said.

Adahn nodded. “So it seems. A pressure plate. One of the most common types of trap. And the best way to deal with a pressure plate is?”

Imoen thought furiously. “Er…you can wedge it. But I can’t see a good place to place a wedge.” There had been another way, she was certain she had read of it. “Or…or…”

“Yes?”

“Or…or…”

“Take your time. No rush. I’m sure the mages are sleeping peacefully.” 

“Or…or you can switch the object you want for a bag of sand!” Imoen said triumphantly, just barely managing to keep her voice down. 

“Yes. Excellent. And do you have a bag of sand with you?”

Imoen hung her head. “Um…no.” 

“I’m not surprised. Few people do. Perhaps you should try thinking of an alternative option then.”

Imoen looked wildly about the room. She needed something small, the same size as the gem. And the same weight of course. The gems she had filched from the bedrooms were far too small, and besides she really didn’t want to give them up unless she had to. And then she had an idea. Crazy and icky it might be, but it might just work. Resolutely she held out her hand. “Snake”, she said. 

Her fingers weren’t trembling, but they felt as if they were. Still, she had made it. Imoen turned to look at the small green head sitting forlornly on the pedestal where the gem had been, keeping its trap from activating. “I did it!” she whispered. “Wasn’t I good? Huh? Wasn’t I great?”

“It was satisfactory,” Adahn said. Then he smirked at her. “Very creative. And you saved me a valuable resource.” With that he took out a small cloth bag from an invisible pocket and handed it to Imoen. The girl undid the strings and touched the contents. They were white, fine and very smooth. 

“Sand? But…but why didn’t you tell me?”

Adahn raised an eyebrow at her. “You didn’t ask. And besides…I wanted to see if you could manage to think of something on your own, and you did. As I said, it was highly creative. And I’m sure you feel better knowing that you did it yourself.” 

Imoen smiled. “Yeah…I suppose I do. Thanks. Thanks a lot.” The warm glow of happiness inside her lasted until she and her friend reached what seemed to be an empty room. Well, almost empty. At the far side there was a big glass case, and inside that Imoen could glimpse what seemed to be a very ugly statue. There didn’t seem to be any traps on the floor either, and she was just about to head into the room when she felt Adahn grasp her tightly by the collar. 

“Hold,” he whispered into her ear. “We have a serious problem here.”

“Huh? What’s up? There aren’t any traps, are there?”

“Not as such, no.” The older rogues sharp face was very tense as he stared at what seemed to be empty air. “You may not be able to see them, but I am. The very air of this room is crisscrossed by magical wards.”

“Wards?” Imoen asked. “But…but how do you know? I can’t see a thing?” 

It was a few seconds before Adahn answered, and when he did, he spoke in a very carefully neutral voice and didn’t look her in the eyes. “It does not matter how,” he said, his black eyes still focused on what Imoen thought of as empty air. “But I assure you, they are there. I can…see such things. Not all the time, but when the traces of residual magic are strong enough. Here they are fresh, they glow like embers. And they are all over the place, like a spider web throughout the air of the room.” 

“But…but I thought only wizards could…”

Imoen hastily bit back the rest of her sentence as her companion glared at her. “Enough,” he said. “I will not discuss this further. All you need know is that the wards are there, and if we touch them something very unpleasant will happen.”

“Like…like what?”

“At the best, an alarm goes off and we are swamped with guards, demons or something like that, then face a grisly death.”

“And at the worst?”

“We are cut to pieces by the wards themselves and die a grisly death. All in all, I recommend you try not to touch them. Now, look at the case over there and tell me what you see.”

Imoen squinted and tried to make the case out through the gloom. It was made from glass, fairly big, and there was some sort of ugly clay idol sitting inside it. “I can see locks on either side of it,” she said. “Big ones.” 

“Correct. Unless I am entirely mistaken, they will both need to be unlocked simultaneously for the case to open. And that means that we must both make it over there if we want to get our hands on that idol.” He paused. “The alternative is to walk away of course. Stealing two of the artifacts may be enough to satisfy Ravenscar.”

Imoen craned her head backwards to be able to look him in the eyes. “Do you really think so?”

The older rogue shook his head, looking seriously concerned. “No, I am afraid not. I have met him, you see. You agreed to the task of stealing all three artifacts. Unless you do so you will be in grave danger for as long as you remain in Baldur’s Gate or its surroundings. I could protect you perhaps…but there are things I must do, and I couldn’t be with you continuously.” 

Imoen bit her lip and stared at the case again. “Is there no way to do it then?”

“There is a way,” Adahn said. “But it will be dangerous.”

“Huh,” Imoen said, tossing her head in what she hoped was a sophisticated and roguish gesture. “So, what else is new? I…I love living dangerously.” She tried to sound cool and businesslike as she said it, but she couldn’t quite keep her voice from trembling. 

“Of course, you do,” Adahn told her in a very kind voice as he placed an encouraging hand on her shoulder. “And I have every confidence that you can do this. I wouldn’t suggest it otherwise.”

“Um…do what exactly?” 

“You’ll see.” 

A few minutes later Imoen stood quietly biting her nails as she watched her companion navigate his way across the floor, avoiding things that he could see but she could not. Sometimes he would raise his feet high to step over something, sometimes crawl on his stomach or take a contorting sideways step. It looked a bit like some sort of odd dance. Finally, he stood by the glass case, and nothing bad had happened. “Now your turn,” Adahn told her. “Are you ready?”

Imoen nodded, not trusting herself to speak. 

“Good. Close your eyes, that will help you concentrate. And remember, do nothing unless I tell you to.” 

Nodding again, the pink-haired thief closed her eyes, making an effort to keep her legs from trembling. _I can do this. He won’t let me get hurt. All I have to do is concentrate. But I suck at concentrating! No, you don’t. You can pick locks, can’t you? You can do this. Just relax…_

“Imoen,” Adahn said. “Listen to my voice and do exactly as I tell you. As long as you remember that, you will be safe. Now. Take your left foot and place it in front of your right. That’s right. Whenever I tell you to take a step, that is the exact length of the step I want you to take. Now take another one.” Imoen hesitantly took a step forward, her eyes squeezed shut. “And another. That’s right. Now stop. Lift your right foot to the level of your thigh…just a little further…that’s it. Now extend it forwards and twist your upper body to the right very slowly…like so. Now put your foot down. Excellent. You are doing very well. Now the left foot…” 

So it went on for a time, without any mishaps. Imoen, however, was finding it increasingly difficult to keep her eyes shut. At any moment she expected to trigger one of the wards. Finally, she froze in the middle of the floor, just before a particularly difficult passage. “I can’t do this!” she said, almost sobbing. 

Adahn’s voice somewhere in front of her was very calm. “Yes, you can. It’s not much further now.”

“I know but…I’m scared!”

“I know you are. I also know that you can do this. You are much stronger than you think you are, Imoen. Now listen to my voice and forget about everything else. There is only my voice in front of you, and I will not lead you wrong. Do you believe that? Do you trust me?”

Imoen breathed heavily. The fear was still there, but she pushed it aside, bunched it up in a tiny corner of her soul and refused to look at it. _He has such a wonderful voice…like black silk_. “Yes,” she said. “Yes, I trust you.” 

She thought she could hear a faint sigh in front of her, but when her companion spoke next, he sounded as unruffled as always. “Then come to me, Imoen. One step at a time. Now, sit down on your heels…very slowly. Yes. Onto your belly…make yourself as flat as possible. You are smaller than I am; there is plenty of room. Very good. Now forward…” Slowly but certainly Imoen went on, step by step, banishing all stray thoughts from her mind, listening only to the voice in front of her. “You can open your eyes now,” the voice finally said. 

Imoen’s eyes flew open and she found herself standing right in front of Adahn who was giving her a pleased smile. “You see?” he told her. “I told you that you could do it.” 

“Yeah,” Imoen said, breaking out in a big and happy smile of her own. “You did. I’m sorry for stalling back there. Now let’s crack this case open, right?” _He was right. And maybe…maybe I am stronger than I think I am. Right now I sure feel that way._

The locks to the glass case were difficult, but not impossible. The tricky part was opening them both simultaneously, or as close to it as possible. Fortunately, there were no traps on them and eventually there were two welcome ‘snicks’ as they yielded to the two rogues. “He’s all yours,” Adahn said, bowing slightly in the direction of the case. 

Scanning to make certain there were no traps Imoen reached into the case and picked up the small clay idol. It was incredibly ugly. Basically, it looked like a fat and naked little man with a monkey head. It was very obvious which body part the unknown artist had thought it important to emphasize. “Yuck,” Imoen said. 

Adahn snorted quietly. “Indeed,” he said. “Though I am a bit surprised at your reluctance, given your own artistic aspirations.”

”But mine was classy, you have to admit that!” Imoen’s blue eyes glittered brightly as an idea struck her brain. “Say…if I take up sculpture, would you do some nude modeling for me?” Then she giggled at the frozen look on her companion’s face. “Sorry. I just couldn’t resist. It’d be fun though…sure you don’t want to?” 

“The day I agree to do that,” Adahn said, “will be the day that Elminster finally shuts up. In other words, not in your lifetime.” He pointed at the warded room again, looking malicious. “In the meantime, I suggest you try to curb your hilarity. I’m sure I don’t need to remind such a witty person that we still need to go back…”

Imoen gulped. 

Some nerve-wracking acrobatics and silent sneaking later, the two rogues had exited the house with all the three artifacts, and made their way directly to the Thieves’ Guild where Alatos ‘Ravenscar’ was very pleased to see Imoen, and not so pleased to see her companion. “I had thought you would be working alone,” he remarked. 

“You didn’t say I had to,” the girl objected. “Anyways, here’s the stuff you wanted.” She handed the leader of the Guild the spellbook, the gem and the statue, noticing the pleased look on his face. 

“Perfect,” he said. “And you were discreet? No unnecessary attention brought to us?”

“Sure we were! Right, Adahn?”

“Most certainly,” the older rogue said, gifting Ravenscar with a cold smile. “I know the value of discretion, as I’m sure you do, sir. And your client, perhaps?”

Ravenscar’s face remained motionless, but his eyes flickered just a little bit to the side. “Yes…our client. He so wished to meet you. This is Resar, my Halruaan contact. He is well pleased and will now see to your reward.”

A thin and balding man wearing a blue robe stepped out of the shadows, his keen eyes focused on the two rogues. “Alatos was most assuring in his description of your abilities. Right he was, and it is unfortunate I must close all loose ends. This includes potential loose tongues, and though talented, you are also expendab…AAAAARRRRGHHH!” 

“Oh, my apologies,” Adahn said as he swiveled around his crossbow so that it pointed at ‘Ravenscar’. “It seems I interrupted the obligatory ‘Evil Villain Speech’ before he got the chance to finish.” On the floor Resar drew his final breath, something not very easy to do with a poisoned crossbow bolt in your throat. 

To his credit, it must be said that Alatos ‘Ravenscar’ mostly kept his cool. Only the thin sheen of sweat on his face betrayed him. “It is I who should apologize,” he said. “I did not know until just now what he intended, and there was little I could do. He was too powerful. Don't worry, you have full run of the guild - if you're able to kill a Halruuan mage, I'm sure there's little that my guild members can do to you. Again, accept my apologies for the entire incident.”

“We will accept them,” Adahn coldly said, “for the moment. However, we will not tolerate a repeat of this performance. And may I add that it is a sad leader who allows some strange wizard to run his operations for him.” 

“Yeah!” Imoen said, crossing her arms across her face, and scrunching her face up in what she hoped was a good likeness of her companion’s threatening demeanor. “If you try to mess with us again, we will be very cross!” 

The Thieves’ Guild leader frowned at her in surprise. “Do you have some sort of stomach problem?” he asked. “My aunt gave me this recipe…” 

Imoen sighed. _I guess I still need to practice some more on that one…_

Once the two rogues had left the guild they walked in silence for a few minutes. “Do you think it’ll be safe to go back there?” Imoen eventually asked. 

Adahn thought about this for a moment. “Probably,” he said. “I think ‘Ravenscar’ felt properly regretful. Still, I would advise you against doing so unless you really have to. There may be honor among thieves, but you can’t always know which thieves.” 

“I guess so.” They were almost at the tavern by now. “Adahn?”

“Yes?”

“Will I see you again?” 

The black-clad rogue didn’t answer immediately. “I don’t know,” he said. “This has been very entertaining, but I have my own affairs to manage as well, and now is the right time to do so. I think I am going to be very busy from now on.”

“I could help…”

“It is kind of you to offer, but no. This thing is still beyond your skills, despite your recent development.” He smiled a crooked smile. “You never know. I may run across you some other time. Hopefully not as my cellmate or working with ‘Passionate Pirates’.” 

Imoen tried to laugh, but even she thought it sounded pretty feeble. “So…this is goodbye then?”

“Yes. At least for now.” 

“All right. Um…Adahn?”

“Yes?”

“Well…since you’re going and all, and I don’t know if I’ll ever see you again…could I…do you think that I might…”

“What?”

“Can I at least give you a goodbye hug?” 

Even through the tears that were rapidly starting to form, Imoen was able to see her companion’s eyes widen almost imperceptibly, and he suddenly went very still. “I…I suppose so,” he said. “Yes. If that is what you really want…” He didn’t get any further before he suddenly found himself holding an armful of pink-haired girl who was hugging him tightly and sobbing into his chest. 

“I’m gonna miss you so much,” Imoen wept. “You’ve helped so much and taught me so much and been so nice about it and you inspired me to get my new and exciting hair, and even forgave me for that picture thing and…and…I don’t know what I’ll do now if I don’t get to see you again.”

Then she felt him hug her briefly in return, and a hand gently mussing her bright pink hair. “You will do fine,” Adahn said before he slowly disentangled himself. “Remember what I told you, Imoen. You are both stronger and braver than you think you are, and you have great potential. That’s not something I had to teach you, it was always there. Never forget it, and you will be well. Take good care of yourself.” Stepping aside, he melted into the shadows and disappeared from sight. “Just remember,” she heard his voice call out. “You are more than you think you are. Oh, and try not to get into too much trouble…”

Imoen waved and stood silent for a few moments until she felt reasonably certain that he was gone. Then she slowly turned and headed towards the door of the Elfsong Tavern. _I promise. And I will be what you think I can be. I will._


	57. Dirty Jobs

**In The Cards 57 – Dirty Jobs**

_Sewers. The bane of the adventurer’s existence. No matter where you go, be it in the farthest reaches of Icewind Dale, the steaming jungles of Chult or even the Abyss itself, somehow, somewhere, you will always eventually find yourself tromping around in some stinking sewers. It’s a dirty job, and somebody’s gotta do it. I just wish that ‘somebody’ didn’t nearly always seem to be me. Still, we all do what we have to do._

_Excerpt from ‘Ruminations Of A Master Bard’_

Dekaras smiled briefly to himself as he headed off through the darkened streets. He had thoroughly enjoyed spending some time with Imoen. The girl was very talented, with a quick mind and mostly untapped reserves of strength. _She will do well_ , he thought. _Though the pink hair is still a bit of a drawback in our line of work…did she say I had inspired her to that? Well, perhaps she will grow out of it soon. Whatever the case, it has certainly been pleasant to give her some instruction. And now, back to my own business._

The assassin hadn’t been idle about that either for the past few days of course. He had taken every opportunity to study the particular lock he intended to break through, as well as to decide upon alternative courses of action once he did get through. By now he thought he had it all covered. So, he was feeling pleasant anticipation as he walked past the Sorcerous Sundries magic shop, an emotion that was rapidly scattered as he heard the voices drifting out of the opening doorway. Voices speaking Thayvian. 

“…inferior substances of course,” a male voice was saying. “But it seems we have no choice but to make do.”

“What else can one expect in these barbarian places?” said a second and harsher voice, female. “We should be pleased he did not try to sell us frog eyes and pass them off for those of baby basilisks. At least we were able to…persuade him…to give us a discount, and to keep open after hours.” Quiet laughter. 

Dekaras pressed himself tighter against a wall, trying to make himself one with the shadows. That there were Red Wizards in town was extremely bad news, and he had to do whatever he could to find out more about them. Carefully, very carefully he approached, hoping that none of them would get it into their heads to try a divination spell right now. Fortunately, they seemed too engrossed in their discussion. There were four of them, two men and two women, and they were still griping about the state of Sword Coast spell components. 

_Four Red Wizards_ , Dekaras thought. _Not good at all. If they should happen to pose a threat, I could not hope to deal with all four of them at once. I’ll just have to trail them and see what they’re up to._

The four Thayvians headed directly for their lodgings, a comfortable inn in the northern parts of the city, where they requested and got a private dining room. While they took the opportunity to use the time they would have to wait for their late meal in order to refresh themselves, Dekaras had no difficulty slipping into the room. The heavy red drapes in front of the windows seemed to be the most promising hiding place available. It was highly unlikely that the wizards would come over to open the windows, they would be used to the warmer climate of Thay. And if they did…well it could not be helped. He could not afford not to learn what they were up to. 

Eventually the wizards returned, their rich scarlet robes taking on the color of fresh blood in the candlelight. All four of them were shaved completely bald in the traditional manner and tattooed to varying degrees. _At least we talked Edwin out of that phase_ , Dekaras thought. _He would have looked completely ridiculous._

“So,” one of the women said as she sipped from her wineglass. “Any news of our little renegade?”

“He is not a renegade quite yet, Lasala,” said one of the men, a tall individual who seemed to be the leader judging from the quiet authority in his voice. “He still has…twelve days, five hours, thirteen minutes and…twenty seconds before the Zulkir’s deadline runs out. We must follow our instructions to the letter.” 

“Ha!” snorted the other man. “No disrespect intended, Danak, but you cannot seriously believe that that young fool will succeed now when he hasn’t done so yet? He is so…erratic.” 

“Maybe,” said the wizard called Danak, and wiped at his mouth. “Honestly, is this supposed to be a high-class inn? These jellied octopus eyes are far too salty… Yes, as you said he is erratic. But he is also highly talented, one of the most gifted young wizards of his generation. Surprisingly enough, considering what a blundering idiot his father is, but I suppose he gets it from his mother. Plenty of raw talent there, and that is why the Zulkir thought he might be ready for this task. And besides, he isn’t alone you know.” 

“Yes,” said the other man. “I have heard a few rumors about his…companion. Is he as good as they say?”

“Likely better,” Danak said. “He keeps a low profile, but the Zulkir is good at evaluating people, as you know. If the young Odesseiron heir should need help in dealing with the girl, she will disappear quickly and quietly, Brendan. And Edwin has his orders. If she will not turn to us, she will be destroyed. With agents from Rasheman sighted in the area we cannot afford to let one of the Children slip through our fingers, even a young and inexperienced one such as this girl. Edwin knows what to do.”

“Then why hasn’t he done it yet?” said the second woman, the one with the harsh voice. “And why hasn’t he attempted to contact us? You’d think he had something to hide.” 

Danak shrugged. “It is a fairly big city, and there could be numerous reasons for why he has been out of touch. When I make my daily report to the Zulkir tonight, I will tell him that the search goes on, and that we are obeying his orders. And we _will_ obey his orders, is that perfectly clear?”

The three junior wizards nodded respectfully. “And what if Odesseiron fails,” Lasala said. “Then what will we do?”

Danak gave her a mild smile. “Why, then we will kill him of course, and his companion as well. I would prefer to give him some advance warning first, but if that is not possible then we will simply slay him without it. Like I said, the Zulkir’s orders must be obeyed – to the letter.” 

After that they discussed frontline magical research, including an interesting new spell to make a person’s inside come out through his ears, the atrocious weather one had to suffer this far north and how their children were coming along these days. 

Once the four wizards had left Dekaras remained behind for some time. It wouldn’t do to risk letting himself get spotted. He was trying to evaluate this new information in a calm and sensible manner, but so far, he was finding that quite difficult. _This is extremely bad news. I must do something, and quickly_. Frowning, the assassin thought about his available options. The first, and definitely the most tempting one, was to kill the wizards of course. He certainly had no intention of letting them harm Edwin, and if they should make the attempt, he would make them regret it, if only very briefly. _It would be risky to tackle them all at once, but one at a time they will be vulnerable. I should have no great problems with that._

Still, there was one problem with that plan. Danak had mentioned daily reports to the Zulkir, obviously by magic. If the wizards were to suddenly disappear, then the Zulkir would know that something had gone wrong, and exactly where it had gone wrong as well. _And he is clever enough that he would know whom to suspect. He would keep sending more agents after us, and even if we managed to survive somehow, we would be outcasts from then on. We would never be able to return to Thay._

The image of a beautiful woman with commanding dark eyes appeared in his mind. _Never to see her again…would be a terrible fate. Yet I could live with that if I had to, for the boy’s sake. But I will not have Edwin become an exile, not if there is anything I can do to prevent it. He will not have to go through anything even remotely resembling what I did. No, the wizards must live, unless there is no other option available._

The time wasn’t quite up, however. And Danak had insisted on going by the Zulkir’s rules. That meant that if Edwin could fulfill his mission within the prescribed time, there should be no further problems. _But is he capable of doing so? He has procrastinated long enough already. But surely if I tell him about the danger he faces he will finally act._

Edwin had claimed that once Sarevok was defeated, he was certain that he would be able to persuade Zaerini to work for the Red Wizards. _Then we had better make certain that Sarevok is defeated swiftly_ , Dekaras thought. _There is no time for further preparations. I will set my plan in motion tomorrow night, and if everything goes as planned, I should be able to tip the advantage. Then Sarevok will certainly fall, and hopefully the girl will be more agreeable to listen to reason._

Nodding to himself, the assassin quietly stepped out from behind the curtain and slipped out of the room like a drifting shadow, his feet making no sound against the floor. _And if she will not…then we must make other arrangements. As Danak said, Edwin has his orders, and if he cannot carry out one part, then it must be the other. I will help him if necessary_. It would really be a shame if Zaerini had to die, Dekaras thought. Though he had only met her briefly, he couldn’t help liking her. _Let us hope that she will be sensible once Sarevok is gone. I would certainly not like having to kill her. But like it or not, I will do as I must. I will keep Edwin safe, and I would sacrifice any life towards that objective. Including my own._

Meanwhile, in the Iron Throne building, Sarevok was just about to receive some unsettling news of his own from the man whose name he was still forced to bear in public. “Ah, Sarevok,” Reiltar Anchev said, nodding to his foster son. “Take a seat.”

“Father,” Sarevok said, sitting down in an armchair opposite Reiltar’s desk. It creaked under his weight. _I will not have to call you that for much longer, swine. Soon, very soon, I will trample your mangled corpse beneath my feet and laugh while I’m doing it._

“As you know, we have a thorn in our side,” Reiltar said, his icy blue eyes hard. “And so far, you haven’t managed to remove it.” 

Sarevok remained silent. _Ah, to feel his throat crush between my fingers and see the blood spurting from his bloated eyes…soon. Very soon_. “Yes Father.” 

Reiltar drummed his fingers impatiently against the desk. “I am of course speaking of that meddling little half-elf and her band of mercenaries. What was her name again? Zabini?”

“Zaerini,” Sarevok said between clenched teeth. _My little sister is my responsibility. Mine to kill, in an earthshaking and cataclysmic duel, a clash between two divine beings. Mine to slay, the most glorious murder of all, the murder of one almost as strong as I. And this…this lowly filth cannot even get her name right!_

“Zaerini. Of course.” There was an unsettling smile playing around Reiltar’s thin lips by now. “Since you have taken so long in dealing with her, I have decided to do so on my own. From what I have been able to learn about her, it should be a very interesting experience.” 

“Father?” _What does he mean? He cannot take her from me; I will not allow it! She…she belongs to me! Her death should be a magnificent moment, shared only by the two of us_. “What do you mean?”

Reiltar paused for a second, and then he smiled again, his eyes glittering. “No, Sarevok. I will not spoil the surprise for you. I will let you know in time, but for now I only wanted you to be aware that I have matters well in hand.” He stood from his desk, looking out through the window on the dark streets far below. “I think it is time I taught you how to properly handle this sort of matter. Already, my plan has been initiated. And soon, very soon, Zaerini will no longer pose a threat to anybody.” 

_That is what you think, ‘Father’. But I think you are mistaken. My little sister is resourceful, and whatever you have planned for her she will not submit easily. She is clever and powerful, and her abilities have grown. She will win through yet. And then I will be there. Waiting for her._

_The following day, deep within the Baldur’s Gate sewers…_

“This,” Zaerini said, “stinks. And I mean really stinks.”

“Well, sewers tend to do that,” Jaheira remarked, sounding annoyingly calm and unaffected. “The smell will not kill you.” 

“There are plenty of things that won’t kill me. Having my nails pulled out won’t kill me. Getting flogged with nettles won’t kill me. Being forced to listen to Ulraunt’s preaching won’t kill me, much as I would wish for death. That doesn’t mean I want to experience any of them.” The bard sighed and raised her hands defensively. “I know, I know. It was my idea to come down here in the first place. You don’t have to say it.” 

“At least you’re relatively clean,” Edwin said. “Look at the state of my robes!”

“Whoa! It’s not my fault you fell in. That was because you were trying to prove that you could walk along that ledge.”

The Red Wizard looked extremely sulky. “I could have done it too, if somebody hadn’t been deliberately sabotaging me. (She did it on purpose because I was about to outshine her, I know it.)”

“For the tenth time, I didn’t do anything,” Imoen protested. “You fell in all on your own.” 

“Yes, you did! You hummed. Hummed maliciously, continuously and with the intent to break my concentration. (And in case you didn’t know it, you’re about as musical as a rusty door hinge.)” 

Rini sighed again. She supposed it was no wonder that everybody was feeling on edge. The sewers beneath Baldur’s Gate weren’t a pleasant place to be. Dark, dank tunnels that twisted and turned and constantly split off into new directions like a spider web, they were unfortunately fully functional. That meant that lots of unpleasant…stuff…floated along in the stinking water and that even if you kept to the sides and tried to stay out of the water the smell still got into your clothes. 

Edwin’s unfortunate experience had made his robes cling to his body in a manner that Rini normally would have found fascinating, but as it was his stench was able to penetrate even that from the sewer, and she had to keep her distance in order not to start gagging. The reasons why they had come down here were two-fold. First, there was the matter of Scar’s mission of trying to find out just what was dragging off and eating the citizens of Baldur’s Gate. Zaerini decided that whatever it was it had to be something really disgusting if it liked to have its dinners down here. 

The second reason was more complicated. A wealthy wizard by the name of Degrodel had employed the party to seek for the helm of the legendary seafarer Balduran, the founder of Baldur’s Gate. Supposedly the location of this helm was known by a certain group of adventurers, who had had the misfortune to be turned to stone some time ago, by none other than the wizard Ramazith. Currently they graced the living room of a local merchant, as ornaments.

Once the strange adventurers had been returned to normal their leader had been reluctant to part with the famous helm and had instead offered Balduran’s equally famous cloak. This item was kept by his mistress, a girl working in the legendary Undercellar brothel, somewhere in the middle of these stinking sewers. Not particularly eager to get into a fight, Zaerini had accepted, but she had also managed to swipe the man’s purse as compensation for her troubles, and it had held a note that hinted at the location of the helm. _So_ , she thought. _All we have to do is find and kill the sewer-monster, find the courtesan and get her cloak, and then mosey over to the Helm and Cloak inn to fetch the helm. All in a day’s work._

_And return the helm to the mage?_ Softpaws asked, sounding rather amused.

_Are you kidding me? The pay he offered was insultingly low considering all this bother. I’ll settle for the helm and cloak, assuming we can find them._

After some more wet and stinking wandering the adventurers could see light ahead, and once they came close enough, they found an open doorway, guarded by to very large and surly men. “You can come in if you want,” one of them said. “But mind your own business. No fighting with the other customers, and no roughing up of the girls, you hear?”

“W-w-we would n-n-never!” Khalid indignantly exclaimed. 

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever. If that’s the sort o’ thing you want, then take your business elsewhere.” 

The voices of the courtesans and their clients echoed strangely beneath the high vaults that made up the main chamber of the Uncercellar and the smells of a hundred different cloying perfumes actually managed to drench the stench of the sewers, not that they were much of an improvement. Imoen started coughing loudly as soon as she entered, and all three half-elves sneezed more or less simultaneously as their more sensitive nostrils were violently assaulted. “By Silvanus!” Jaheira said. “I never get used to this.” 

Edwin raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been here before? Business or pleasure?”

“Harper business!” the druid snapped. “In the service of good we sometimes must go where we would prefer not to – not that I would expect you to understand.” She then returned to coaxing Yeslick along, as the dwarf was blushing brightly at the sight of all the exposed female flesh surrounding him and looked about ready to faint. “Come on, Yeslick. They will not make you do anything you do not pay them for.” 

“I might be willing to try,” said a passing brunette. “I’ve never done a dwarf before, I could do with the experience to help improve my skills. And that beard is really attractive. Tell me, dwarf. Are you that hairy…everywhere?” 

CLANG! 

Jaheira sighed with exasperation. “Khalid,” she said. “Help me carry him, would you? And you too, Edwin, do not try to weasel out of this.” 

Zaerini grinned slightly at the sight of a protesting Edwin and a resigned Khalid hauling an armful of dwarf along the narrow passages of the brothel. Then she giggled as she tried to imagine just what the other customers would think they were up to. Though come to think of it, judging from what she could see and hear around her she thought it would take a lot to make them react. 

For obvious reasons Rini had never been inside a brothel before, and she looked about her with great interest. An aspiring bard needed to know about all aspects of society after all. There were scantily clad women everywhere, most of them human, though she could glimpse the odd half-elf…and was that a gnome in a negligee? The customers seemed mostly wealthy from their clothes, and she noticed that more than one of them sported a little black cloth mask that was apparently meant to mask their appearance. She didn’t think it seemed a very reliable method. 

“Excuse me,” she asked one of the courtesans. “I’m looking for somebody.” She then described the petrified adventurer’s mistress. 

“I know her,” the woman said. “She rents a stall in that aisle over there. Ninth one on the left.” Then she gave the half-elf a closer look. “Are you in the market, dear?”

“Um…no. Not really.”

“Pity. You’re not bad looking, especially with those eyes of yours, and redheads are popular. Well, if you should change your mind, this is the place to come. It’s safe with the guards, even if you have to pay for the protection. Picking up clients in the street…it’s too dangerous.” She shuddered. “There are some bad people out there. The kind that likes to hurt you for fun.”

Imoen stared at the courtesan. “That’s horrible!”

“Aye, it is. Just take care, girls, that’s all I say.” She spat on the ground. “Men. I used to think they only wanted one thing, but with some of them that one thing is your blood on their fist. Still, it’s a living.” 

The woman they were looking for was helpful enough once they described her lover and the password he had given them. The cloak turned out to be a fairly short black number, but inside it shimmered like silver and starlight. Rini stuffed it in her pack after giving it one final longing look. She didn’t want to wear it on top of her smelly clothes after all. 

Having asked directions for the closest sewer grate that could take them back to the surface the six adventurers set out again. Or rather, five set out, with Yeslick still being carried like a sack of flour. Occasionally he’d open his eyes, catch sight of all the semi-naked women, groan and faint again. “Dwarves are very modest,” Jaheira explained. She didn’t sound very pleased about it. “Normally I would approve, but it can be taken too far.” 

“We could always toss him into the sewer-water,” Edwin suggested. “Why should I be the only one to suffer? (And besides, my back is about to snap in two.)”

“But he’s wearing plate-mail!” Imoen protested. “He would sink!”

“Yesss…” the Red Wizard said in a dreamy voice. “I know…”

However, Edwin never got the chance to try, because at that moment a horrible chuckle echoed through the tunnel. If the stinking sewer-sludge had been able to laugh this was probably what it would have sounded like. “MUAHAHAHA!” it said. Then there was a brief pause. “No, that be wrong. It be ‘MUAHAHAHAHAHA!’ Much better.” Clomping footsteps sounded around the next corner ahead and a large ogre mage with greenish-yellow warty skin came into sight, accompanied by six corpse-white carrion crawlers that slithered along in the dirty water, grubbing for food. “So, some puny surface dwellers have come to their death,” the ogre said once he spotted the party. “It'll just be extra treasure for my collection. My pets have been causing much anguish in your surface realms, haven't they? They have been so useful at collecting the surface pinklings. My pets use the flesh for food, and I get the pretty treasure!”

“Um…” Rini said. “What exactly do you do with the ‘pretty treasure’? I mean, you live down a sewer, right? It’s not as if you can buy…anything…” Then she faltered as she noticed the diamond studded earrings in the ogre’s ears, the thick pearl collier around its neck, bracelets being used as rings, and especially the hideous gold nose ring. “Never mind. Forget that I asked.” 

“What? You not think I look pretty?”

“Well…yes. Very flattering.” 

“Pretty?” Edwin said. “You look like somebody coughed and the resultant phlegm got splattered all over a jewelry shop. (Now I, on the other hand, would look devastatingly handsome and dashing in that ring…even more so than usual.) ” 

It took the ogre mage a few seconds to work its way through this, but once it did it roared with rage. “You insult my perfect complexion? Now you DIE! Pets, kill these intruders!”

“You know, Eddie,” Zaerini snarled as she launched a flame arrow at the nearest carrion crawler, “one of these days we really must see about setting you up for some diplomacy lessons.” Then she was forced to narrowly dodge a swipe from the mandibles of the carrion crawler, tripped and fell into the nauseating sewer water, managed to trip Jaheira in after her and decided that the conversation would have to wait until later. Softpaws, wet and hissing, clawed herself out of her mistress’ pack where she had been enjoying a nap, spitting out words that would have made a sailor blanch. To her right Rini saw Khalid freeze in one place, affected by the disgusting carrion crawlers’ paralyzing touch, but she wasn’t close enough to reach him easily. Fortunately, all the noise had awakened Yeslick, and now the dwarf charged into battle, his hammer scattering mandibles and many-jointed pale legs everywhere. One of them struck Imoen in the face, but the human girl barely flinched and just kept on firing arrows at the ogre mage. Under the combined onslaught of magic and missiles the ogre finally went down, and the warriors finished off the last of the carrion crawlers. 

“Well,” Edwin said, rubbing his hands as he bent over the dead ogre mage. Somehow, he had managed to come through the encounter without a single wound and even without getting more spattered with filth than he already was. “This was a very productive encounter. Scar will be pleased that we have discovered what kept dragging off those hapless monkeys they call townspeople around here as well as put a stop to it. (And there seem to be quite a few interesting spell scrolls stacked inside this scroll case…) Yes, once again my snappy repartee and masterful command of magic has brought us triumph and victory.” Then he turned around to face the group of stinking, slimy, filthy, bleeding and glowering people and one cat behind him and gave them a very surprised look. “What?”

_Later that day…_

“Mmmm…this is great!” Imoen sighed, carefully rinsing her hair until it took on its usual bright pink color rather than muddy brown. 

“Yes,” Zaerini agreed. “We really needed this.” The bard reclined lazily in her hot tub, playing with the large and popping bubbles that mostly hid her from sight. “Say, do you wanna hear a bath song? I learnt this one in Gullykin, halflings have lots of songs like that.”

“Why not?” Jaheira said from the third tub as she carefully brushed her back. “Just do not strain your voice.”

“No problem. Here we go.” Zaerini cleared her throat. _Pretty bubble, no more trouble, wash all care away! It plips and plops of hot sweet drops, time to wash and play! For the tub is your friend, from the start to the end, so wash all your worries away!_

“Well, at least we can probably wash this accursed muck off our bodies,” the druid remarked and poured some more water over herself. 

“It is natural substances,” Imoen mischievously commented. “What’s the problem?”

“Natural they may be, but it is still disgusting. And my only comfort is that the wizard got just as dirty as we did. Particularly the second time, once we pushed him in.” 

Rini smiled and reclined a little further so that her hair floated out in the hot water like a red flower. Unconsciously she started humming to herself, a sad but sweet melody. 

“What’s that?” Imoen asked. “Is that a new song?”

“Hmmm?” the half-elf said. “Oh…yes. It’s something I’m working on; it’s not quite done yet.” Her smiled widened a little and her golden eyes took on a distant, dreamy look. “It’s going to be a love song.” 

“Ooooh! I like that. A really romantic one? With kisses and eternal bliss and stuff?”

“I hope so…but like I said, it’s not done yet. You’ll get to hear it when it is.” Again that dreamy smile. “All of you will.” 

“Hm,” Jaheira said in a studiously neutral voice. “Our clothes should be ready soon as well, I hope. This inn has much better service than the Elfsong. Perhaps we should move here?”

“Yeah…maybe…” 

“Khalid thinks so as well,” Jaheira went on. “I talked with him just before he went to have a bath of his own. The men should be done soon as well, we can talk it over then.” 

Zaerini’s eyes went a little more unfocused at that remark. “Mmmm….he…I mean they are taking a bath too, aren’t they? Somewhere down the hall…” 

Jaheira sighed. “Yes, they are. They needed it. So did your cat by the way. Where is she?”

“Oh, I took care of her first, though she didn’t like it much. She slunk off somewhere to sulk I think.” The red head sleepily sent out a tendril of her mind, searching for her familiar. _Softy? Where are you?_

_I’m not talking to you!_ The response sounded distinctly huffy. _You gave me a bath!_

_Cats are supposed to be clean, aren’t they?_

_Not that way! I can clean myself._

_Yes, I’m sure you could have, but I didn’t want you to lick up all that filth. It could make you sick. Besides, you got your revenge, didn’t you? It took Jaheira quite some time to deal with all the scratches._

_Serves you right._

_Yes, yes, I am sorry. What are you doing?_

_Nothing._

Rini frowned. That had sounded suspiciously innocent. _What’s that supposed to mean? Where are you anyway?_

_Hiding under a bench in the boys’ bathroom. Did you know that your wizard sings in the bath too? But only briefly, Yeslick threatened to stuff his mouth full of soap._

Zaerini lost her balance and almost got her head under the water. _In…in the boys’…Softy get OUT of there!_

_No need to shout. I thought you would be interested._

_That has nothing to do with it. That is peeping, and it’s not a nice thing to do. Get out I said. I don’t want to know anything else. I am not interested._

_Oh? Then you won’t mind this…_ Rini gulped at the image that floated up to the front of her mind. Edwin was sitting in a bathtub very similar to her own one. Mercifully or mercilessly, depending on point of view, there were plenty of bubbles covering him from waist down. Strangely enough, they weren’t the regular sorts of bubbles. Instead they glittered bright red, blue, and yellow. She could get a very good view of his chest though, which was pretty scrawny. To the half-elf it was the most enticing sight possible, and the fact that he had bubbles in his hair did nothing to detract from the effect. 

_Yummmm…_

_Ha!_ Softpaws sounded triumphant. _Told you you’d like it, kitten. And just wait until he gets out of the water…_

The bard tried to protest, but she was too preoccupied with staring. _He’s so cute…he’s just perfect in every way. Mustn’t stare. Mustn’t look. But…but he’s so gorgeous!_ Vaguely she was aware that Yeslick and Khalid were in tubs on either side of the wizard, but she barely noticed them. By now Edwin had rinsed all the water out of his hair and was…and was apparently ready to get up. Slowly…slowly…getting ready to rise now…and…

Blackness. The vision winked out and disappeared completely, leaving the frustrated bard with nothing but a blurred pink afterimage. _SOFTY! What did you do?_

_What?_ The cat sounded annoyingly innocent. _I thought you said peeping wasn’t nice. I’m just doing as you said, that’s all. Yowsa, would you look at that…you’d like to see this, kitten. Pity your morals get in the way._

Feeling ready to cry with frustration Zaerini broke the contact, hitting the surface of the water with her fists so it splashed all over the floor. 

“Child?” Jaheira asked. “Is something the matter? You are quite red in the face.” 

“I’m fine,” Rini said, gritting her teeth. “It’s just that the water is a little hot. I think I’ll get out now.” 

Once properly dressed the bard still felt more than a little hot, however. Since none of her friends were ready yet she decided to head down to the common room for a while. Once there she heard a familiar oily voice raised in song. The song wasn’t a bad one, but there was something about that voice that made her fists itch. _Hold on a moment. This inn…it was called ‘Three Old Kegs’ wasn’t it? And that’s where we were told that we could find…_

“Eldoth Kron,” Zaerini said as she stepped up to the other bard. “So, we meet again.” 

“Sweet lady,” Eldoth said, letting his eyes roam over her body with a sort of indifferent and routine leer. “It has been far too long.” 

_Not quite long enough_ , Rini thought. Eldoth looked much as she remembered him from their encounter in the Cloakwood. He still had enough oil smeared into his dark hair and beard that you could have fried bacon in it, he still wore once-fine clothes that looked slept in, and he smelled strongly of some sort of strong cologne. Still, she wasn’t about to tell him off. Not just yet. “So,” she said. “My business in the Cloakwood is satisfactorily concluded, and I am available to help out with your own little project – if you still want me to.” 

Eldoth’s eyes lit up with a greedy glimmer. The project in question was the ‘rescue’ of his most recent lover, the daughter of Entar Silvershield, one of the Grand Dukes of Baldur’s Gate. Not for any romantic purposes primarily. Skie, as she was called, was simply a means to an end. Once she had fled her father’s home with her romantic lover, he planned to blackmail the Duke, pretending to have kidnapped her, without telling her of course. 

He had told Zaerini though, on their previous meeting, and the redhead had pretended to go along with it. _And I will continue to do so_ , she thought. _For now. Then I think it will be time to instruct this guy in how not to treat women. And using them to blackmail their families is a definite no-no. I’m sure Skie will agree on that, and if she doesn’t, then she’s welcome to have him._

“Certainly, I want you, my sweet,” Eldoth said, kissing her hand. Zaerini resisted a strong urge to yank it back and wipe it off. “Shall we discuss the details then?”

“Yes,” the half-elf said. Had Eldoth looked more closely he would perhaps have noticed that the sparkle in her yellow eyes was predatory rather than sultry, but he saw only what he expected to see. “Yes, Eldoth. Let’s discuss the details. And then let’s go to work.”


	58. The Lady and the Rogue

**In The Cards 58 – The Lady and the Rogue**

_The Rogue and The Wizard of Swords opposing is a potent and lethal combination, one likely to bring much destruction and devastation. It represents schemes within schemes, traps in your path, and deadly determination._

_Excerpt from ‘The Chaltar Deck of Cards – An Introduction’_

“Are you quite certain this is necessary?” Eldoth Cron complained. “I don’t think I like it.” 

Zaerini nodded impatiently. “Of course it’s necessary. Or did you think we could simply waltz into the home of one of the Grand Dukes, past all the guards you tell me patrol the halls, and smuggle Skie out beneath their noses? Nope, we need to be in disguise. And since you must come along to persuade Skie that it’s safe, then you must be in disguise as well. You already agreed that this disguise is the best we could use.” She grinned and raised the razor she was holding. “Now hold still. I wouldn’t want to nick you by mistake.” 

Sometime later the half-elven bard nodded with satisfaction at her work. Eldoth’s prized beard had been sheared clear off, leaving his face as smooth as a baby’s bottom. “Much better. With a pretty face like that you could almost pass for a girl. We’ll put a wig on your head to increase the effect.” 

Eldoth grimaced as he looked at himself in the mirror. “Well, if we’re done, then…” 

“Oh no,” Zaerini said, smiling a wicked smile. “You see, if you want to pass for a girl, then we must prepare you in the way that all the really girlish girls do, to compensate for your normally so rampant masculinity you know.” She held up a pair of tweezers. “I never do this myself, but I’m sure you’re willing to sacrifice yourself for Skie – and for her father’s gold.”

Eldoth shied back in his chair. “Wh-what are you going to do?”

“Your eyebrows, Eldoth. Hair…by hair…by hair.” She could barely hold back the impulse to giggle now. “Now brace yourself – this is really going to hurt. And while we’re at it, I’m going to have to do something about those unsightly nose hairs, they’re just not suitable for a young girl…” 

In the end Eldoth had to bite a stick in order not to scream the roof down. 

The plan was beautiful in all its simplicity, Rini thought. Of course strange adventurers would be challenged if they were to waltz into Duke Entar Silvershield’s palace, but Skie’s many giggly girlfriends came and went daily, and when she had questioned Eldoth about it he said that Skie had once mentioned that the guards found it quite impossible to keep all their faces straight. With the information about the layout of the palace that Eldoth had gained from Skie it should be no problem gaining entrance. _And of course_ , Rini thought, _I get the bonus of tormenting Eldoth a little by dressing him up as a girl. Must wreak havoc on his ego._

Imoen would come along as well, to open the lock to Skie’s room if that was necessary. Jaheira had been relieved when Rini told her she didn’t have to come, since she really hated wearing dresses. Yeslick, Khalid and Edwin were out as well of course. Even if they had agreed to wear female fashion it would have been too risky to smuggle in more than one disguised male, and they weren’t really necessary for this part of the plan anyway. 

So it was that Eldoth Kron was currently sitting in a chair in Zaerini’s room at the Elfsong tavern, getting his eyebrows trimmed. He was already wearing a pretty purple dress with a generously padded bodice and plenty of frills, and though he didn’t like it one bit he had to admit that it had the desired effect of making him look very feminine. 

Once she was done Zaerini took a step backwards to admire her handiwork. Eldoth’s face had been powdered and rouged, his eyes rimmed with kohl to make them look larger, his lips reddened, and his eyelashes lengthened. With the dress and the curly brown wig that Imoen had dug up from somewhere, she certainly thought he looked enough like the real thing to pass a cursory examination. Even better, his voice was a light tenor, and as a bard he was skilled enough in manipulating it that he should be able to pull off a few almost natural sounding words if necessary. “There we are!” she said. “A perfect little lady. Pretty as a picture.” 

This was literally true, assuming the picture was one of an extremely sulky-looking girl wearing a purple dress, and who kept touching her eyebrows and flinching. Still, at least Eldoth Kron now looked passably female. Rini herself had also swapped clothes, and was wearing her good red dress, the one she had got herself ages ago for the Nashkel victory celebration. She gave herself a satisfied smile in the mirror. That ought to be good enough for any noble. It was a shame she couldn’t bring her sword along, but she had a dagger strapped to her leg just in case. 

Imoen fluffed up her pink locks one final time, looking quite excited about the upcoming jaunt. Then she stuffed something that looked like a piece of black cloth into the bright pink bodice of her dress and wiped surreptitiously at her eyes. 

“Immy?” the half-elven bard asked. “What’s that?”

“Um…nothing. Just…a little something for luck, you know?” 

“Right…” Zaerini said, fingering the small glass marble she always carried with her. “I know what you mean…” Then she turned to Eldoth again. “All right, Eldoth. The key here is getting into the act. You aren’t female, but fortunately the guards you have to fool aren’t female either, so it shouldn’t be too difficult. If you find yourself in doubt, just think about how you believe a female should act and try to get into the part. You got that?”

“Of course I get it, wench!” Eldoth snorted. “I am not a fool. Just watch.” He stuck his little finger into his mouth with an affected gesture and fluttered his fake eyelashes. “La! What are so many strong and manly gentlemen doing here? Oh, my weak and girlish little heart goes all fluttery…”

_Dear gods_ , Zaerini thought. _Yes, I suppose that would be how he thinks women should act…I just hope I can keep from laughing at a crucial moment._

The palace of Entar Silvershield was one of the most impressive buildings of Baldur’s Gate, a vast estate surrounded by a beautiful garden. At each side of the tall double doors a guard was standing, and Rini couldn’t help but notice that they both were big, strong looking and heavily armed. “Halt!” one of them cried out. “Who goes there?” 

The half-elf smiled her best and brightest smile. Eldoth had given her physical descriptions of most of the guards, and she knew this one by his freckles and big cleft chin. “Bodar Tarl, you silly man! Don’t you recognize us?” she asked. 

The guard relaxed a little at the mention of his name. “Err…not sure, miss…”

“Why, that’s almost an insult, us being in and out of this house so many times!” She was still smiling. “I’m Ophelia.” Then she pointed at Imoen. “That’s my sister Amelia.” And finally, at Eldoth. “And that’s our cousin Dotty. Don’t mind her, she’s a terrible flirt!” Eldoth coughed loudly but then went back to smiling vapidly at the other guard and twirling his purple parasol between his fingers. “And we’re friends of Miss Skie of course!” Zaerini went on. “I’m sure she’ll be happy to see us.” 

“Well…I…don’t know…” 

“Ooooh!” Eldoth cooed to the other guard. “It is so good to know that our dear Skie is guarded by such dutiful and strong men! She must feel ever so safe! That’s what all girls really want deep down, you know. A big, strong man to protect her and keep her from making stupid mistakes…Skie is such a lucky girl.” 

_I think he actually means it_ , Zaerini thought. _Priceless._ The guard seemed suitably impressed. He was puffing his chest out as if he were about to explode. 

“Of course, being but a weak and fragile female I really don’t understand complex things like guarding,” Eldoth went on, his voice dripping honey. “That is not a woman’s place.” He took a few tiny steps closer to the guard, coquettishly spinning the parasol again. “Much better that strong men should…Eeeeek!” One of his heels caught on the gravel and he fell, twisting his ankle painfully. 

_He’s a better actor than I thought_ , Rini thought. _That scream sounded exactly like a little girl._ She shrugged. She could already see a way to take advantage of the situation, and Eldoth’s pain would be her gain. 

_Ten minutes later…_

“I can’t believe,” Imoen said for the fifth time, “that the poor guy actually carried him up all these stairs. I mean, it’s five floors! I thought his heart was gonna give out on him. And did you hear the way his back creaked?”

“That was his back?” Rini said. “I thought that was the stairs…” She felt a little bad about the guard. The man had only needed a vague hint before he offered to help ‘poor, sweet little Dotty inside.’ Eldoth had hammed it up incredibly; simpering and sobbing alternatively in a way that almost made the half-elf feel sick. _Good thing Duke Entar only employs male guards or we’d never have been able to get away with this._

The guard had unlocked the door that led to Skie’s quarters, waving at Eldoth before he returned to his duties, and so Imoen was spared some work. Zaerini simply knocked on the door, and after a few moments it opened. Skie was a rather pretty young girl with long dark hair done up in a loose bun. She looked at the three people standing at her doorstep with widened eyes. “Who…who are you? If you are intruders, I’ll scream, do you hear me?” She had a shrill voice that grated unpleasantly in Zaerini’s sensitive half-elven ears. 

“Skie!” Eldoth exclaimed. “It is I my rose, my little honey-bee! Don’t you recognize me?”

Skie stared at the vision before her, her mouth slowly dropping open while she took in the purple dress, the wig, the parasol and the makeup, not to mention the elegantly trimmed eyebrows. “Eldoth?” she whispered, sounding incredulous. “Is…is there something you haven’t told me about?”

A hurried explanation later Rini turned Skie invisible according to plan, and it was now a simple matter to sneak the girl out of the palace. There was one dangerous moment when Eldoth almost forgot to limp as they were about to pass the guards again, but a swift kick on the ankle neatly took care of that problem and they got away with no further incidents. 

At sunset the same day Eldoth had finally managed to wash off all the makeup, as well as rid himself of the dress. His face still looked oddly androgynous though, without his beard and with the plucked eyebrows. “They had better grow out again soon, wench, or I will make you pay!” he complained as he walked back and forth inside the designated meeting place, a small room at the Three Old Kegs. 

“Relax, Eldoth,” Zaerini said with a shrug and put her feet up on the table while she rocked the chair she was sitting on back against the wall. It felt very good not to have to pretend to be ‘lady-like’ in the worst sense of the word. Idly her eyes followed the other bard, mostly because there wasn’t anything else interesting to look at in the room. Eldoth had insisted that only the two of them be present to collect the ransom money, and she hadn’t objected. “It’ll be all right. Where’s Skie, by the way?”

Eldoth snorted. “The silly girl insisted on us having a ‘romantic dinner’ tonight. She’s back in her room trying to pick out a dress and a menu. Good thing I won’t have to put up with her for long.” 

“Oh?”

“She’s completely empty-headed, or didn’t you notice? It’s lucky she has such a charming body to distract me or I’d never have been able to stand her stupid prattling long enough to convince her to have a cup of tea, much less run away.” 

Rini smiled briefly. “Yes, it was a very clever plan, wasn’t it? Was it difficult to seduce her?” 

“Ha! She was so starved for attention she’d have fallen into the arms of a beggar if he sweet-talked her some.” Eldoth smirked. “Some poetry and sweet words, some flowers and songs, that’s all it took. She’s actually a good kisser, I may be able to teach her a thing or two about love-making as well, naïve and clumsy as she is.” 

“As long as her father’s money lasts of course.”

“Of course.” 

“So, tell me, how much money do you think you can squeeze out of Entar Silvershield in return for his only daughter?”

Eldoth’s face turned guarded. “Now, don’t you get any ideas about splitting into equal shares, little girl. You helped out, but the original plan was mine. You’ll get half of the first payment of 10000. The rest is none of your business.” He looked at the door and cursed. “Where are those damned envoys?”

Rini yawned. “Take it easy, big man. I’m sure they’ll be here any moment. Why don’t we amuse ourselves with something in the meantime?” She smiled at the other bard. 

“Hmmm…” Eldoth said. “I wouldn’t mind that, I suppose. What did you have in mind?”

“I’ll show you. Just sit on that chair, yes, just like that. A very manly way of sitting. Now close your eyes…” Eldoth shut his eyes, leering widely all the time. And then he screamed in agony as a girlish foot connected with his groin. 

“That’s for making me fall in love with you!” Skie screamed as the invisibility spell that had been masking her from sight winked out. There was a crunching sound as her fist made contact with Eldoth’s face, and the bard screamed again as his nose started spurting blood like a fountain. “And that was for blackmailing my father! And this…” 

When the contingent of Flaming Fist marched into the room a few minutes later, Eldoth was a whimpering and bleeding heap on the floor. “Is there a problem here?” asked their leading officer, a striking redheaded woman. 

“Not any longer, Officer Vai,” Zaerini said, grinning at the other woman. “I’m glad you were so prompt.” She pointed at Eldoth. “This person kidnapped the daughter of Entar Silvershield, you know. She’s right here and ready to bear witness. What’s the customary penalty for such things around here?”

“That would be life in prison,” Officer Vai said, smiling unpleasantly at Eldoth. “Not a very long life, usually.” Two soldiers hauled the bleeding bard to his feet. “Take him away.”

“Nooo!” Eldoth pleaded. “Skie! My dove! You…you can’t do this!” 

Skie crossed her arms across her chest and smiled sweetly at him. “Really, Eldoth? Just watch me.” 

Once the soldiers and their still sobbing captive had disappeared down the stairs Skie turned to Zaerini. “Thank you so much,” she said in a solemn voice. She swallowed a little. “Even if it hurts to know what he’s really like, I’m glad I found out in time. Thank you. I was about to make a terrible mistake. I will see to it that my father pays you the money Eldoth was asking for, you have certainly deserved it. And if there’s ever anything I can do for you in return, do not hesitate to call on me.” 

“Thanks,” the half-elf said. “I’ll remember that. And Eldoth?”

“Well…he’s a slime ball. But now that I see how pathetic he is I feel almost sorry for him. Mostly I wanted to give him a bad scare, really. I’m glad you asked Officer Vai to exaggerate a little for his benefit.” She giggled. “Did you see the look on his face? I can’t believe I ever fell for him; I’ll never make that mistake again.” 

“Yes,” Zaerini said, smiling in return. “I quite agree. And I’m sure we will both somehow manage to stand on our own two feet quite nicely without that sort of ‘big, strong man’ to handle our affairs for us. As freakish as Eldoth would think that sounds.” 

_Late at night, deep within the Iron Throne tower…_

It wasn’t a dark and stormy night, unfortunately. It wasn’t entirely calm, the wind was just changing to a mild western one, but that was all right. The big problem was that it wasn’t as dark as one might have wished for, since the moon was almost full, and the stars were clear. 

_But that cannot be helped_ , Dekaras thought as he hunched down by a door deep inside the Iron Throne complex. _I really cannot afford to wait any longer. I will just have to be a little bit more careful when I leave, that’s all._

As he went to work on the poison dart trap cunningly concealed around the lock the assassin contemplated his plan. The idea had originally come to him back when he had read Sarevok’s diary. In one of the later chapters, the raving ones, the warrior complained at length about something. Apparently, the man had an extraordinarily strong inborn ability to resist magic, most likely due to his divine blood. He had grown so used to this that he had started to get very cocky, and certain that no mage could ever pose any kind of threat to him. 

This hadn’t gone down well with Winski, who had decided to teach him a lesson that would hopefully help Sarevok stay alive. Dekaras smiled briefly to himself as he recalled the exact quote, almost able to hear Sarevok’s voice rumble indignantly. 

_And then Winski cast a spell on me, completely without warning. I could feel the change within my very body, as some of my strength seeped away, and when he cast another spell, I suddenly found myself stuck to the floor! Tell me, Diary, how that is supposed to be fair? Winski of course was annoyingly smug about it all. ‘And that, my boy,’ he said, ‘is the ‘Lower Magical Resistance’ spell. Useful, wouldn’t you say? Perhaps now you’ll learn not to underestimate wizards.’_

_Hmpf. Maybe he’s right, but did he have to look that happy about it? He wouldn’t dispel the magic either, just said that he ‘wanted me to have some quiet time for reflection upon the danger of overconfidence’. I was stuck to that floor for two hours! That is not something the future Lord of Murder should have to put up with._

_Even worse, Winski says that he has several of those scrolls in reserve and will make me practice against him at some later, unannounced date and I don’t want that. I think I’ll just go kill something now, that will improve my mood…_

Winski certainly knew his business, Dekaras thought. He could vividly recall going through the exact opposite thing, as he demonstrated to a certain young, boastful and extremely eager Red Wizard exactly how dangerous it was for a mage to get caught in a situation where his magic was of no help. Such as, if somebody just happened to have nailed him with a stunning dart. Edwin, too, had complained about the unfairness of being given no warning, until Dekaras pointed out to him that it would be a very impractical assassin indeed who openly walked up to his intended victim to challenge him to a fair fight as long as he had any other means at his disposal. After that Edwin had got the point. _Yes, Winski knows how to handle these things_ , Dekaras thought. _He is a man after my own heart and a pleasant conversationalist as well. It is really a shame…_

With the poison dart trap dealt with, the assassin went to work on the next one, an intricate Fireball trap that would have roasted him alive if he hadn’t spotted it. _It is strange how few people are cautious enough to have more than one trap on their door. I would say he’s about as suspicious as I am._

Dekaras really would have preferred to be able to go after Sarevok himself, but the circumstances were hardly ideal for that. _In direct combat I might be able to take him out, but the risk would be great. And if I were to try to take him from behind or from a distance I’d better be certain I could make it with one blow or it would become direct combat._

Poisoning might have worked or killing Sarevok in his sleep. Unfortunately, the warrior was more absent than present at the Iron Throne these days. He did sleep there occasionally, but then he spent the night with Tamoko and getting past both her and Sarevok would be as dangerous as fighting Sarevok outright. When he wasn’t at the Iron Throne, Sarevok was nowhere to be found. Dekaras had tried to trail him and had managed to learn only that he teleported off somewhere in Winski’s company. That unknown place was where he spent most of his nights, and it was a dead end. 

So Dekaras had decided to attempt to get to Sarevok via a more indirect route. The diary entry was a recent one, and he’d overheard Winski mentioning it to Sarevok in a way that hinted that those scrolls were still in his possession. Something to remove Sarevok’s magic resistance should be very useful, and it didn’t seem that there were any such scrolls available elsewhere in Baldur’s Gate. Winski probably had a private supplier. And then there was the other aspect. If Winski was present in his chambers this night…and if he could be slain…then Sarevok would be deprived of one of his most dangerous allies. Probably the most dangerous one, next to Tamoko. It would make Edwin’s task all the easier. And that in turn would hopefully see Edwin return to Thay in one piece.

_I am sorry about this, Winski_ , Dekaras thought. _But I have a feeling you would understand. We both do our best to look after our own after all._

With the door free of traps, it didn’t take long to bypass the lock, and soon the assassin slipped inside Winski’s private chambers, being even more careful than usual not to make a sound. As it turned out, he needn’t have bothered. The wizard’s bedroom was silent and empty, and so were the adjoining rooms. Dekaras frowned to himself. This was most awkward. On one hand, Winski wasn’t here to disturb him. On the other hand, he really would have preferred to be certain that the mage was unable to disturb him – or indeed anybody else ever again. Where could he be? And how long would he be away? Still, there was no turning back now. He would only get this one chance to get at the spell scrolls, once Winski noticed that the traps and lock had been tampered with he would know that something was wrong. It couldn’t be helped; he would simply have to be quick about it. 

The safe was situated exactly where he had spotted it before, during his unexpected conversation with Winski. The trap on it was a poison gas one, fairly basic. _A bit too simple_ , Dekaras thought. _I don’t like that._ Cautiously he pulled the safe open, and then had to bite back a very nasty word as he looked inside. There was a large stack of spell scrolls inside, and he could see that the ones he wanted were indeed there. Most other thieves would already have grabbed them. However, most other thieves didn’t have the remains of mage sight to work with, and so would have been neatly incinerated as they triggered the powerful ward that completely covered the entrance to the safe. _Yes, Winski is definitely as suspicious as I am. A very clever move. But you haven’t quite placed me in checkmate yet, wizard._

With a grimace of distaste, the assassin withdrew an item from his pack. A spell scroll. _I hate this. I really, really hate this. But I don’t see that I have much of a choice_. Unrolling the scroll he felt a stab of self-loathing as he noticed that his fingers were shaking slightly. _How pathetic. I really ought to be able to handle this better by now._ Slowly, his face set in an expression that was part longing and part loathing, he started reading the scroll. 

It wasn’t the same of course. Each time he had done this, and over the years he had been forced to do so a few times, each time he hoped it would be. Each time he had been disappointed. He could still remember the first time he had been able to push his mind to the point where he could utilize a spell scroll without actually having any magic within to draw upon. It wasn’t easy. In fact, it was damned difficult. But he had persevered, hoping against hope that it would replace the magic that had been stolen so long ago. _And of course I was wrong_ , Dekaras thought as he intoned the last few words of the scroll. _So very wrong. Yet what if once, just this once, it could be different…_

As soon as he pointed at the warded safe and saw the magic release, he knew that it wasn’t though. The magic worked all right, dissolving the ward completely. But it was dead magic, words trapped in enchanted paper. Nothing like the real thing, the magic that flows from within and sings in the soul. Nothing like it at all. _As I should have known_ , the assassin thought, feeling a bitter taste in his mouth. _As I should very well have known._

He never used scrolls if he could help it, and only carried a few for real emergency situations where nothing else would work. Not only was the constant disappointment hard to bear, it was dangerous to rely too much on borrowed magic. Far better to get by with his own skills. This particular spell had done what he intended it though. It wasn’t powerful enough that it could have disabled the large wards inside Oberon’s mansion the other night, but for this it was enough. Now he could simply…

And the assassin froze, his fingers hovering motionless over the stack of spell scrolls. He had almost missed that one. A ward behind the first ward, thin and exceedingly difficult to spot, but so powerful that the dispel hadn’t worked on it. It was worked into the scrolls themselves, and he could tell that as soon as he touched them it would go off. _Winski, I am impressed. Really impressed. That one almost got me._

Very much aware that the wizard could walk in at any moment Dekaras leaned forward to take a closer look at the ward. He couldn’t make out all the details, it was too small for that, but he did recognize that there was some sort of alarm set to trigger when the ward was activated. And there was something else…but nothing lethal. Of that he was as certain as he could be. 

_Let me see. What do my available options seem to be? I can get the scrolls, trigger the alarm, and warn Winski, and perhaps something else as well. Dangerous, but not impossible if I prepare accordingly. Or I could just leave right now. But then I waste this chance, and there is not much time left before Edwin has to deliver as promised to his superiors. If he is supposed to convince the girl, Sarevok needs to be gone first, which means we need every possible advantage. The alternative would be killing Zaerini instead, but that would also take some time, and I have made no plans for it. Or I could kill the wizards, but that still would not solve the problem, it simply would make it worse. More agents would come, and we would be exiles even if we managed to survive. No. I will finish what I have started. This opportunity is too valuable to pass up._

He hadn’t been able to bring along any really large traps of course and hadn’t expected to have to use them anyway. But he did carry a few minor ones, for emergency purposes. Of course, the trick was picking the right spot to set them. A couple were placed near the door, and the others were scattered in likely spots around the room. Having opened the window he made certain that it would be possible to get out that way if necessary. The drop was a high one, but there was a balcony nearby, and from there the roof was easily accessible. Finally, he was ready. The ward shimmered tantalizingly in front of him. _Beautiful work. Really beautiful._

Banishing all stray thoughts from his mind he reached inside, hoping that he’d been right about the ‘non-lethal’ part. A clear bell tone rang out and echoed throughout the room. The alarm, as expected. But what about the other part of the spell? 

And then silver light, like woven moonbeams, spread through the air, shimmering and forming a very distinct shape. _Ah. A portal. That is not so good_. Winski Perorate stepped through the portal, his gaunt face tense and angry, his eyes scanning the room for the intruder he knew had to be there. What he hadn’t been expecting was stepping onto something metallic, something that immediately bit into his leg like a set of cold and very sharp teeth. As he cried out in sudden pain, a magical shield sprang into existence around him, making him temporarily impervious to all weapons. Across the room he suddenly met the eyes of the assassin who was even now moving to escape. The wizard’s normally hollow and emotionless eyes suddenly glinted with anger, fear, and most of all recognition. 

Not wasting time with words, the mage started chanting a spell, even as Dekaras dove for the window. Then he interrupted himself as the poison on the spikes worked its way into his bloodstream and nearly choked him, keeping him from casting the spell. But he tore himself lose, and he was moving now, trying to intercept. 

_Just a little further and I will be out of range_ , Dekaras thought as he leapt for the adjoining balcony. _Just a little further…_

Cold stone railing beneath his hands now, and he was almost up, almost…

And then there was the heady smell of ozone in the air, and a blinding white light, seconds before he even felt the pain. _A wand_ , he just barely managed to think before he felt his body spasm and contort with the sudden shock. _He has a wand._

The magic tore through him, seeking out the void within, intensifying the pain. It had been that way ever since he’d been robbed of his own magical ability, unfortunately. An increased sensitivity, not to such spells that could be counteracted by willpower, but to those that caused direct physical injury. It was almost as if the old wound to his spirit drew the hostile magic and intensified it. Whatever the reason for it, the lightning bolt was bloody painful, far more so than should have been possible from a simple wand. Every nerve-ending screaming with raw pain he fell, and despite the agony he was all too aware of just how far it was to the dark waters of the harbor below. Then there was only blackness.


	59. Wounded Wolf and Trapped Cat

**In The Cards 59 – Wounded Wolf and Trapped Cat**

_It is an amazing amount of havoc that can be caused by two people unknowingly approaching the same goal from completely different directions, without considering what will happen when they meet in the middle._

_Excerpt from ‘Interview With An Assassin’_

_It is a common misconception that ‘evil’ has to wear skull insignias or have horns or red eyes. People who look just like everybody else, and even are able to behave like everybody else when it suits them do much evil in the world, perhaps the most of it._

_Excerpt from ‘Ruminations Of A Master Bard’_

“I sense evil in your party, friend. I cannot allow you or your evil companions to threaten the good people of Baldur's Gate.”

Zaerini turned around at the sound of the voice. It was a cheerful, dedicated, impressively trumpeting kind of voice, and it spoke in that exact reasonable tone that lets you know the speaker not only is planning to do something unspeakably nasty to you but also expects you to be grateful afterwards. 

The speaker himself was a man in the most brightly polished armor she had ever seen, so shining that the light sparkling off it hurt her eyes. It was worse than Ajantis’. He was tall and strong, had impressively broad shoulders and a square chin, and an expression of utter pig-headedness on his face. When Rini met the unblinking and slightly glazed stare of his eyes she got the unsettling impression that he was looking _through_ her, and that he didn’t like what he was seeing. His smile was very wide, very sincere and very insane. 

“Excuse me?” Zaerini said, noticing that the man had his hand on the hilt of his sword. “What exactly are you talking about?”

“Evil of course! True Evil. The Dark servants of the Nether Realms, defilers of the innocent, oppressors and foes of the pure and unsullied!”

“Um…sorry,” Imoen said. “But we’re not evil. Honestly we’re not.” 

“Ha! That’s what they all say! But I know better, oh yes I do! I am Sir Phandalyn the Pure, and I have the Power, and it shows me the truth. And it makes all the wicked evildoers glow bright red! Red like blood, like blood flowing through the gutters as the Evil Ones slaughter the innocent. Rrrrreeeeddd….like that!” The man in the shiny armor suddenly pointed his finger accusingly at Edwin, his voice ringing with righteous indignation. 

“No,” Zaerini said. “That’s just his robe, actually.” She was starting to get really annoyed with this twit by now and had to fight to keep herself under control. 

“It is not surprising that this ape cannot recognize stylish clothing when he sees it, “ Edwin remarked in a conversational voice. “When his ilk speaks of ‘casual wear’ they are referring to chain mail. (If he wasn’t standing so close to us, I believe a Fireball or two would serve him well. Then all that cumbersome scrap metal would soon make him ‘glow red.’)”

“Listen, fool,” Jaheira told Sir Phandalyn, favoring him with a deadly glare that would have caused a saner man to wither into nothing. “Whatever else may be said about Edwin, he is a member of our party, and you have no right to harass him or us like this. You will cease this nonsense at once, or you will be very sorry.” 

“But I have every right, woman! He is evil I tell you, and it is my sacred duty to CLEANSE the Realms of the taint of Evil! Yea, for only then will the innocent and pure be safe, safe to lead their virtuous little lives in peace, guarded by my strength and by my unsullied mind.” 

“At least I can agree with that part,” Edwin said, smirking. “That mind hasn’t been sullied by a single intelligent thought in all his life if I’m any judge. If it could be sold, we would get some extra money for its unused condition, despite its overall inferiority.” 

“And it is even worse!” the armored man ranted; the sarcasm clearly having passed far over his head. “The rest of you, by freely and deliberately associating with a Servant of Evil are tainted as well. You must repent before your very souls are lost and I am forced to chastise you mightily.” 

“Oh really?” Rini said in her sweetest voice. “How dreadful. That taint thing sounds absolutely terrible.”

The idiot smiled at this. “I can tell your own soul is pure and unsullied, fair maiden,” he said. “Clearly you have been grievously misled by this base villain. Just repent and I shall let you off with a stern warning, provided you keep more suitable company in the future.”

“That is so nice of you,” the half-elf said, her eyes glittering dangerously. 

“Hold on a moment!” Yeslick interrupted. “I may be missing something here, but what evil deeds are ye accusing us of? Why, we were simply walking down the street!”

For a moment Phandalyn looked uncertain, but then he raised his voice again. “Of…loitering?”

The dwarf shook his head. “It nay be loiterin’ to be walkin’ to the Blushin’ Mermaid for a party. Sorry, but ye’re goin’ to have to think of somethin’ else.” 

“It…it makes no difference!” Phandalyn screamed, by now quite red in the face. “The wizard is Evil, and that makes anybody defending him Evil too! Evil can do no good, everybody knows that. And Evil deserves no mercy, only death by my Righteous Sword!”

“Tell you what,” Zaerini said in a low and dangerous voice. “Why don’t you stick your righteous sword up your pure and unsullied behind, jerk? I’ll be happy to help. And if you so much as try to lay a finger on my friend, I will deal out some ‘chastisement’ of my own, thank you very much.” 

The veins on Phandalyn’s neck were standing out like ropes now. “Fiend!” he screamed. “Evil One! I will slay you all in the name of Goodness! RAAARRRRRGGHHHH!” Charging like a raging bull towards the adventurers he didn’t even have time to draw his sword before a swarm of Magic Missiles from the Red Wizard and the bard struck him down. 

“Hm,” Edwin said as he planted one foot as well as the head of his staff on the fallen man’s throat. This could make for a very impressive portrait, don’t you think? ‘Triumphant Red Wizard With Slain Monkey Knight’.” 

“But…h-he’s not dead yet,” Khalid said. “H-he’s breathing, see?”

There was a sudden wet and crunching sound, as of a sharp blade slicing through flesh. “Ah,” Edwin said as he let the blade retract into his staff again. “I knew there was something I had forgotten. (Yes, this is really a very useful weapon.)” 

It was at this moment that a pair of men wearing long gray robes came rushing up to the adventurers. “Oh dear!” one of them said. “What a dreadful mess. Did he hurt you in any way? We will provide healing if such is the case.”

“We’re fine,” Rini said. “Who are you?”

“We’re priests of Ilmater,” said the second stranger, bending over Phandalyn. “Oh, that was a nasty wound. It will take some work restoring him from that one…”

“Restore him?” Jaheira asked. “Why?”

“Well,” the first priest said, “he is under our care, you see. And we are extremely sorry that he behaved as he did, the acolyte watching him only turned his back for one second and then Phandalyn was off. I dread to think of what he could have done.”

“He is a convicted murderer,” the second priest explained. “Dreadful, absolutely dreadful. He has this fixation about brutally and painfully murdering anybody whom he decides is ‘evil’, and he managed to slay quite a few people before he was apprehended. He would have been executed, but for the fact that he is completely insane. The court ruled that we should attempt to heal his fractured mind so that he may atone for the evils he has done, though so far we have had little success.” He lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “It is really a very sad case. He actually thinks he is a paladin you see, and a servant of goodness. It is all part of his delusions, for as you noticed, the reality is far different. We will make certain to keep a double guard on him from now on, he will not threaten anybody else.” 

“I…I see,” Zaerini said, feeling extremely confused. “Good luck to you then. I can’t help feeling sorry for you guys though, having to put up with that jerk.”

“My child,” the first priest said, “Ilmater is the God of Suffering. It is our duty to carry such burdens – though I must admit this is an unusually heavy one. I wish you and your friends a good day!”

_Well_ , Zaerini thought to herself, _that was certainly very odd._

The adventurers had decided to spend some of the money they’d earned from Entar Silvershield on a really extended evening at the Blushing Mermaid, a seedy inn in the rougher part of town. The good thing about it was that it served the best ale in Baldur’s Gate, or so Yeslick claimed. _And after chatting with that Phandalyn guy I really need a drink. Then, tomorrow, I think we should probably go check out the Iron Throne._

Pleased with that plan, the red-haired half-elf smiled at the sign of the inn. The mermaid in question was indeed blushing, though why she was doing so was a bit unclear since mermaids are used to not wearing any clothes. It’s not as if you can stick seashells over the more prominent body parts and hope to manage without chafing. 

Still smiling about that the bard walked through the door, pleased to hear cheerful music from within, and suddenly found herself lifted by the collar, something that was making it very difficult for her to breathe. She was also staring into a large and very ugly grayish-green face, with a nose like a squashed turnip and beady little eyes beneath a single bushy eyebrow. Then the wide mouth opened, and she nearly gagged at the putrid stench that wafted out from between the large and yellow teeth. 

“Huurm. I be Larze”, the ogre said in a voice like stones being crushed into gravel. You be Zaerini. Don't try deny it. You should not have come to Baldur's Gate. You given many warning before, but you ignore them. Now you must pay. Sorry, but Larze must kill.”

“WAIT!” Rini screamed, as she saw the enormous fist of the ogre rising into the air. Behind her she thought she could hear her friends drawing their weapons, but she was afraid of what that fist might do to her before they could bring the ogre down. “W-wait just a minute! I’m not the person you’re looking for.”

The fist halted in mid-swing. “Huh?” the ogre said. “You’re not?”

“Of course not! How could I possibly be Zaerini? She’s a powerful person, and honestly, do I look like a powerful person to you? She’s…she’s this enormous giant of a person, with glowing eyes and a terrible booming voice. And she has this really scary spiky armor.”

Larze scratched his head. “Me confused now. Me see picture, and it had no fire eyes or big voice.” Uncertainty crept into his voice. “Though pictures don’t have voices. Hmmm…me very confused now.” 

“Tell you what, Larze,” Rini said, speaking in as convincing a voice as she could manage, all the while smiling brightly. “I’m gonna help you out. You just go back to whoever showed you that picture and tell them off for lying to you. They should have given you a proper picture, and then this little mistake could never have happened. Who was it that showed you the picture anyway?”

“Uuhhhh…it be wizard at Iron Throne place.” 

“Good. Good. I know what’s going on now. See, the real Zaerini is trying to trick you into going after the wrong person. I’ve seen her, you know. She hides out in the Iron Throne building; she must have been the one who gave you the wrong description. Just remember what I told you. Big and strong, glowing eyes, booming voice, spiky armor. Think you can remember all that?”

Larze nodded confidently and put her down on the ground. “Me remember good,” he said. “Me clever ogre. Sorry about bothering you.”

“That’s all right. You just give her a good smacking from me. Bye bye!” 

As the ogre waved and clomped out the door the half-elf slowly and carefully wiped her forehead. Then she turned to her friends, with a somewhat unsteady grin on her face. They stared back at her, looking rather stunned. “Well,” she said. “This is a lovely neighborhood, isn’t it? Not a dull minute. But that’s all right I guess, as long as they don’t water down the ale or anything…” Then she paused. “You know, out of those two I think the ogre was by far the most intelligent one. And the most charming.” 

In the end the adventurers decided to return to the Elfsong with as much ale as they could carry, not wanting to tarry around the Blushing Mermaid in case Larze the Ogre came back with an angry Sarevok in tow. Once there, they proceeded to enjoy themselves. Imoen, who wasn’t particularly fond of ale, ordered six nauseatingly pink drinks with bits of fruit and berries in, and insisted that everybody drink up. Edwin shuddered at the sweet and sticky taste, it reminded him of a cough relief potion more than anything else. 

The wizard had been feeling strangely out of sorts all day, irritable and restless. There was an indeterminate feeling of wrongness, and the amulet around his neck felt unusually heavy and cold. Partly it was that he felt a growing sense of urgency about the Iron Throne. Soon it would be necessary to confront the organization directly, Scar had even given them official leave to do so after the business of the Ogre Mage had been cleared up. It was natural that he should feel some tension at the thought, he supposed. But that was not all. 

_It is strange that Teacher Dekaras has not contacted me over the past few days. I would at least have expected him to get in touch once he finished up that business with Imoen_. Edwin stared morosely into his drink as he pondered this. _I know he wouldn’t want me to worry, and if he were here, he’d tell me not to. But I just can’t help it._

He couldn’t even go check, since his mentor hadn’t let him know where he was currently staying, and the total inability to do anything was driving him up the walls. 

“Edwin?” Zaerini suddenly said. “What’s wrong?” 

“What? No. No, no, no. Nothing is wrong at all. Why would something be wrong?”

“Well…you haven’t said a word in the past five minutes. It isn’t like you.” 

The bard was giving him a curious look, her golden eyes looking straight into his, and she had a little smile on her lips. _I want to tell you, my Hellkitten. I would share everything with you. But I can’t. Not this_. “It…is really nothing,” Edwin said, trying to sound sincere. “I just feel a little ill, that is all.”

Jaheira bent forward across the table to take a closer look at him. “You do look rather pale. Go and lie down and I will come and take a look at you in a moment.” 

Edwin shook his head. “I will be all right. I think I am just tired, and some rest should make me feel better.”

“Very well,” the druid said. “But let me know if it gets worse.” 

The wizard nodded briefly and headed upstairs. A short while later he was lying on his bed, staring at the roof. It probably was only tiredness that was the cause of the gnawing anxiety in his soul. It had been a tense past few days after all. _I am sure he’s all right. If he weren’t, he’d let me know, wouldn’t he? Of course he would. Unless…unless for some reason he could not_. Edwin immediately tried to push the logical conclusion to that line of thought out of his mind and failed miserably. _Suppose…suppose he is in bad trouble and needs my help? I haven’t any idea where to look for him! Why, oh why didn’t I become a Diviner instead? Then there would not have been a problem. Maybe I can find one somewhere…but if he is all right he won’t appreciate it. But what if he isn’t?_

It is quite possible that the Red Wizard could have gone on like this for several hours if he hadn’t been interrupted. As it was, there was suddenly a quiet knock at the door. “Message for you, sir!” a childishly piping voice called out. 

“Yes, yes,” Edwin snapped impatiently. “Hurry up and come on in.” It has to be from him. So he must be all right. 

The door opened and a small and very grubby street urchin stepped inside, one of the innumerable beggar children of the city, with a wary little face peeking out of the torn clothes of somebody much larger than him. The effect resembled that of a wandering heap of rags. “Hey!” the boy said. “Mr Wizard! I got a message for you.” 

“So, hurry up and give it to me then!”

The child shrugged. “Isn’t a written one. Friend o’ yours sent me to fetch you is all. Tall fellow wearin’ black. You comin’ or what?”

“Yes, yes, yes, but didn’t he say anything else?”

“Nope. Just to get you there as soon as possible.” The child looked very solemn. “You may wanna hurry up about it too, Mister. He looked really bad. I think maybe he’ll be dead before mornin’.” 

“What?” Edwin breathed, his voice sounding strangely distant to his own ears. And his vision had suddenly gone completely gray, and…

BONK. 

“Hey! Hey, Mister! You dead too or something?” 

“Urrrrghhh…” Edwin groaned, forcing his eyes open to see the little boy looking curiously back at him. He was lying on the floor. Then the memory came rushing back and he felt as if a horse had kicked him violently in the stomach. “W-what was that you said? Dying! No! NO! You’re lying! You have to be!”

“Don’t blame me, Mister. I’m just the messenger. Are ya comin’ or what? He said he’d pay me more when I got back there with ya, but if he’s already dead I won’t get any…”

Not trusting himself to speak anymore without his voice giving out on him, Edwin silently followed the child down the back stairs and through the narrow alleys of the Baldurs’ Gate docks. As he did, one single line of thought kept running through his mind. _Please don’t die. Please don’t die. Please don’t die…_

He just wished that his teacher had somehow been able to hear him. 

The boy led the way to a small and anonymous inn, past a surly bartender who gave Edwin a suspicious look but then went back to spreading dirt over the bar with a towel that had probably been clean a century ago, and up some narrow stairs. “Here it is,” the child said, stopping in front of one door. “Go on, he said to knock three times, then two, and then go straight in.” 

Edwin hurriedly knocked once on the door, and then yanked it open to rush inside. “Yaaagh!” he cried out as a crossbow bolt whirred through the air and embedded itself in the door, a couple of inches from nailing his right ear to it.

“Do you ever…pay attention?” Dekaras’ voice said from somewhere inside the shadows of the dark room. “I said…to knock three times, and then two, so I’d know not…to try to kill you.” He coughed quietly and it was with an icy feeling in the pit of his stomach that Edwin noticed that his voice sounded hollow and terse, as if he had to make an effort even to speak. “You’re lucky I have…quick reflexes. Ferus…your pay.” 

The little boy deftly caught the two coins as they sailed through the air, grinning widely. “Thank you, Mister, and good luck!” he said, and then disappeared out the door, which he closed behind him. 

Edwin wasted no time, but immediately summoned a mage light and hung it in the air. The sight that met him shook his concentration badly enough that it almost went out again. Dekaras was reclining on a rather uncomfortable-looking bed on the other side of the room. He had propped himself up with some pillows and supported the crossbow against his knees. It was still pointed in the direction of the door, though no longer at Edwin. Basically, the child Ferus hadn’t been far off in his guess. The assassin looked as if he were about ready to kick Death’s Door open. His face had a hollow, sunken look about it, and was an unhealthy gray color, his clothes were torn in places and the pillows he was leaning against had some very worrying dark and wet stains. He looked as if he had to fight to keep his eyes open. 

The world stood still, immobile in time like a flower caught by the first autumn frost. It still had the same shape and form, but pale and lifeless. Then Edwin felt his heart start beating again, and before he knew it his feet were propelling him across the floor, and he was throwing himself on his knees next to the bed. “Oh no…” he breathed. “Oh no, oh no, oh no…what happened? Can you talk? What happened? You…you aren’t going to die, aren’t you?” There were hot tears rising in his eyes now, almost blinding him, and he wiped them away with a violent gesture. “You…you can’t die! You mustn’t! I will not let you. It was…it was Imoen’s fault wasn’t it? She somehow made this happen, I knew you shouldn’t have spent so much time with her and there was that vampire and…”

“Enough.” The assassin spoke quietly, but very firmly, and in the magelight his eyes glittered with red fire from within his angular face. “This…has nothing to do with her. And I am…not dying. Not quite.” 

“Y-you’re not?” A sudden thought struck the panicky wizard. “Wait, I have a healing potion here, I’ll get it, don’t move…” _Stupid, stupid, stupid! Why didn’t I bring any more? Yeslick has some, I could have got them, I could have explained it somehow…_

“Better,” Dekaras said once he had finished off the potion. “Much better. I…have already gone through…my entire own supply today.” He was sitting a little more upright now, and just a little bit of color had returned to his face, though he still looked as if he would fall over if he tried to walk and there was a feverish glint to his eyes. He was smiling faintly though. “Didn’t mean to frighten you.” 

“But what has happened?” the still frantic Edwin asked. “Who has done this?” 

Dekaras was silent for a moment. “A very interesting man,” he said. “I have…the highest regard for his…abilities. Fortunately, I struck a dangerous blow…against him as well.” The assassin went on to explain about his encounter with the Red Wizards, and his following infiltration of Winski Perorate’s chambers. Edwin listened with growing horror, not so much because of the price about to be put on his head, but because he realized just how close his mentor had come to getting himself killed. 

“And then what happened?” he asked, his eyes wide like those of a child listening to an especially scary bedtime story. 

“I lost consciousness. Lucky that wing of the Iron Throne…faces out towards the harbor, not…the street. Also lucky that the water…woke me up. Somehow got to shore without…sinking, spent some hours hiding half-conscious…in an old boat. Good thing…I’m difficult to pick up by scrying.” 

“Scrying? Do you mean that…”

“Been on the move…since then. Perorate is…searching for me. I can block him out though…most of the time.” 

”Most of the…”

Dekaras shrugged, and then gave a slight wince. “Not magic…you use your willpower. But…cannot keep it up constantly and he’s very…persistent. He…sent some people. Probably…would have come himself…but the poison I used…should inconvenience him still. It is resistant to magical healing. Not deadly though. Pity, that…” 

“Sent some people? Hirelings of his?”

“Yes. Mercenaries.” 

“You…killed them?”

“Well, think about it!” the assassin snapped, some of the normal bite temporarily back in his voice. “Would I…be here otherwise?”

_He can’t keep it up forever though_ , Edwin thought with icy certainty. _If he doesn’t get some rest and proper healing…they will just keep coming, and all it takes is for one of them to get lucky._

“Kept mostly…to the sewers,” Dekaras said, sounding calm again. “More difficult to spot there.”

_Sewers? No wonder he’s looking bad with that on top of several wounds…I can practically feel him burning up with fever just from sitting this close to him!_ “You need a cleric,” Edwin blurted out. “You look awful!”

“Oh, thank you so much…and the answer is no. Cannot risk…going to any temple. Perorate will…be watching for that.” 

“How do you know that?” 

Again, the assassin sounded strangely pleased. “Because that…is what _I_ would do.”

“Fine. I’ll bring a priest here then.”

“You won’t. Too risky. I simply…need to rest a bit before I move on.”

“But…”

“I said _no_.”

Edwin sighed with defeat. “Where will you be going? Amn? Tethyr? Sembia maybe?”

Dekaras looked at him as if he had suddenly sprouted an extra head. “Are you quite…insane?” he said. “I’m not going anywhere. Do you suggest I abandon you alone here? Preposterous. Besides…if he focuses on me, that will make your work easier.” 

“But…”

“It is…simple,” the assassin said, still with that strangely excited look on his face as he handed Edwin a few scrolls. “Make Sarevok weak to magic. Use magic on Sarevok, and he will fall. Then…convince the girl to cooperate, and before the deadline…preferably. And…try your best. I would really prefer…not to have to kill her. But either way…we will be safe.” 

He meant exactly what he was saying, Edwin knew that much. For a few wild seconds all he wanted to do was to crack and blurt out every single thing he had withheld about exactly why he had been so reluctant to move against Zaerini. Then he thought better of it. _I can’t. He would not understand, and I don’t blame him. I hardly understand myself. But…what am I to do? What can I do? I cannot convert her…I can’t let her die…and I must somehow keep him alive as well. They will catch up with him, won’t they? Again, and again, and all it takes is for him to make one mistake when he is tired enough. And he is too stubborn to pull back now…_ “Please,” Edwin tried again, “please, won’t you reconsider about getting out of town? Staying here is not safe.”

“That…will do,” Dekaras snarled. As he looked straight at the wizard his eyes once again seemed to glow a bright red in the flickering magelight, almost making him take on the appearance of a vampire, or perhaps some dangerous animal. “As I said…I’m not going anywhere. And _my_ safety is not my…first priority.” 

_No_ , Edwin thought. _It isn’t, is it? It never was. But in that case…perhaps I should make it mine._

Dream images were floating to the forefront of his mind now, filling him with unnamed dread. The cat with the coat like fire, and the great black wolf, baring teeth at each other, and him trying to keep them apart. Then the vision of them both watching him accusingly as he lashed out, driving them off. No. Keeping them safe. And now the images from the second dream, the great black wolf in the swirling snow, bleeding. Horns in the distance. The hunters. He could remember the end of the dream as well, though he had tried very hard not to think about it since then, and a vague idea was already beginning to form in his mind. 

“Well, at least get some rest while I keep guard,” Edwin said. “You need it.” 

“Yes,” the assassin said, nodding. “Yes, I believe I will. Thank you. Remember…wake me at the first…sign of trouble.” With an almost inaudible sigh he lay down on the bed and closed his eyes. Before long, his breathing got slower and more regular and his face relaxed. Edwin kept watch, thinking. Before his watch was over he had decided what he must do. 

_The next morning…_

It felt as if her skull was about to split open. Zaerini groaned quietly to herself, and then wished that she hadn’t. Groaning meant making noise. And right now, noise was the last thing she wanted around her. That, and bright light, such as that currently lancing her brain even through her closed eyelids. Her stomach was hurting badly too. _This isn’t fair. I didn’t drink that much last night; I know I didn’t. I must be getting sick or something._

_Kitten?_ Softpaws sounded rather worried. She was sitting on top of her mistress’ chest, green eyes watching her closely. _How are you doing?_

_I’ll live_ , the bard said, petting the black cat. _It’s just the after effects of last night._

_I don’t like it. It feels all wrong inside your head._

_I know. It really does. Phew, I’ve never had a hangover this bad before. Usually I just get a little dry in the mouth, maybe a small headache. I suppose there has to be a first time for everything._

Imoen was still in bed, clutching her pillow tightly with a broad smile on her face. She certainly looked as if she was having a very pleasant dream, and Rini didn’t want to wake her. She silently exited the room, intent on getting some fresh air on one of the shaded benches behind the inn. Once there, she sat down, leaned back against the wall, and closed her eyes again. Her headache seemed to be getting worse, there were even spots swimming in front of her eyes now. _I’ll never again drink anything stronger than juice, never, ever. Ever. Ever._

“Hellkitten? How are you feeling?”

The half-elf hastily opened her eyes to see Edwin standing in front of her. The Red Wizard didn’t look to be in the best possible shape himself, he was pale and looked as if he hadn’t slept much, and there was a deeply concerned look in his eyes. 

“It’s nothing, really,” Rini said, smiling faintly. “I suppose that pink drink was stronger poison than I expected, that’s all. But thanks for asking – Dread Wizard. What about you though? You look exhausted.” 

Edwin looked a little distant for a moment, but then he sat down next to her, making her skin tingle pleasantly. “It’s…nothing,” he said. “I didn’t sleep well last night, that’s all. I had some things to think about. (And decisions to make. Yes, especially that.)” 

“Oh, I know what you mean.”

“You…you do?”

“Sure. I’m worried about Sarevok too, you know. I’d be crazy if I weren’t.” Zaerini sighed quietly. “You know…we’re going against the Iron Throne directly now, and we’ll soon be facing my brother. I just wish…”

“What?”

“I…I don’t really know. That things didn’t have to be this way, I guess. I mean…I know he killed Gorion. I haven’t forgotten that or anything. It’s just…he shares my blood. My sire’s blood. It would have been so easy to become like him; I’ve been so close. And if I could have become like him, then maybe he could have become like me, you know?” The half-elf blinked away the tears that were forming in her eyes. “And since I read that diary…I mean, I still hate what he’s done and everything, but then I see the child he was, and wonder…” She wiped at her eyes with an angry gesture. “It was so much simpler when I could just hate him.”

“Hate or not, you have to kill him, or he will kill you,” Edwin said in a serious voice, taking one of her hands in his. “Please understand that, it is extremely important.”

“I know he’s dangerous. I know. And if I have to, I will do what I can to kill him. But I won’t take any pleasure in it.”

”No,” Edwin said. “No, you wouldn’t. (But if he harms her, then I will.)” He turned towards her again. “You really don’t look that well. Perhaps you should sleep some more?” 

Rini nodded. “Yeah, I think I will, in a little while. The headache is getting even worse. I think…I’ll just rest here a while first, if you don’t mind.” Slowly, carefully, she let herself relax against the wizard, until eventually she was leaning her head against his shoulder, red on red. 

Edwin swallowed heavily. “No…” he said, and his voice sounded a little shrill. “No, I can’t say that I mind at all.” 

“Thank you,” the bard said, closing her eyes. _And as for me, I wouldn’t mind staying here for the rest of my natural life span…_

Eventually she had to go upstairs again though. The headache kept getting worse, and she felt weak and listless. Having promised the Red Wizard that she wouldn’t tackle Sarevok and his assorted minions while her head felt ready to burst, she headed upstairs. The bedroom was blissfully shady and quiet by now. Imoen had gone somewhere, so she could even have it to herself. Trying not to move about too suddenly, she lay down on the bed again, trying to get some sleep. 

Imoen wasn’t quite as badly off as her sister, though she also was feeling really unwell. She was sitting by herself at a corner table in the Elfsong, twisting her Lucky Handkerchief between her fingers and practicing looking menacing. She wasn’t sure how well it was going, however. The other patrons were giving her very strange looks. 

Khalid and Jaheira suffered jointly. Healing spells would do no good, since it was not an actual injury they were dealing with. When Jaheira shifted into the form of a bear to try to get away from the pain, Khalid had to carefully explain that a bear with a headache was a poor substitute for his wife. And besides, it made her too large for the bed.

Yeslick felt ill. But then, he did that just about every day when he first awoke, thinking about his lost clan, his lost mine, and on Reiltar Anchev who had come to mock him when he lay abandoned in his dark cell. One day Reiltar would pay for that. 

Edwin sat in his room, writing a letter. He had already done three versions and was anxiously reading through the fourth. Finally, he sighed, an expression of extreme sadness and regret on his face, signed the letter and sealed it shut with his signet ring before locating a messenger who could take it where it needed to go. Now, it was done. There would be no turning back. He only hoped he had done the right thing.

Softpaws slept, washed herself, ate some, and killed an obnoxious rat by the Tavern’s back door. She was still worried about her Kitten but didn’t want to disturb her while she slept. Not when she wasn’t feeling well. 

Slowly, Zaerini drifted off into the beginnings of sleep, feeling her limbs grow heavier and heavier, the sounds of the world more distant. She thought she dreamt then, dreamt of somebody coming in the door, approaching the bed. “There she is,” said a pleased voice. “Let’s get her.” 

She was trying to move, to fight, but her body was hurting by now, and she was feeling weak, so weak. As desperately as she tried, she couldn’t seem to move her arms and legs properly, and even thinking about magic made knives of raw agony shoot through her head. As she felt herself helplessly picked up, she tried to scream, but the only sound that would emerge from between her lips was a muted whimper. 

In the yard, Softpaws looked up from her washing, startled from her concentration. Her Kitten was in pain, calling for her, being hurt. With a hiss, the cat rose and leapt for the stairs, but it was too late. Marek and Lothander had already made their escape with their prize. 

When Zaerini woke, she was lying not on her bed, but on a cold stone floor that was digging painfully into her body and chilling her to the bones. It was dark, but there was a flickering light coming from somewhere. Torchlight, shining through the bars of the cell. How had she got here? And where was here? It hurt when she tried to think, hurt badly, and she gasped with pain. She still couldn’t move properly, and that frightened her most of all. 

Time passed. More time passed. Still the pain, the cold, the terrible feeling of being trapped and helpless. 

Then the door opened, and footsteps approached her where she lay. “So, you are awake. Good.” The voice was male and sounded infinitely pleased with itself. Hands grasped her shoulders, propping her up against the wall, one of them grasping her by the hair to keep her head up. The grip was hard enough that it brought tears to her eyes. 

Some women would probably have thought the man who was hunched down on the floor of the cell handsome. He had a regular face, with gray hair and a firm chin. However, if you looked more closely you might have been able to see the cruel and merciless look in his eyes, laced with some darker, more primal feeling that frightened the half-elf to the core of her being. “You are Zaerini, the little troublemaker,” the man said, almost sounding pleasant. “You have been a very naughty girl, you know. And I, I am Reiltar Anchev, of the Iron Throne. You may have heard of me from that fool dwarf Yeslick.” 

_Sarevok’s foster father_ , Zaerini thought, an island of rational thought in the sea of fear. _The monster. The…the Devil. The Devil…of my last Reading. And I am at his mercy._

“Marek did well,” Reiltar said, again in that pleasant voice. “Without the poison I wouldn’t have been able to acquire you nearly so easily. It was a two-fold poison he tells me. The powerful part needs some time to fester in the body, so you were slipped that in your dessert the other day, and then the catalyst last night. Very clever. And so, now that I have you, what am I to do with you, hm? You who would destroy me?”

The slap was hard and quick, taking her completely by surprise, and the pain exploded in her head as it connected with her jaw, bright suns bursting before her eyes. “As I said, you have misbehaved,” Reiltar said, still in that eerily calm and pleasant voice. “And you must be punished for it. How am I to do that, I wonder?” He stroked her cheek gently, and the weakness of her body kept her from even recoiling at his touch, though every fiber of her being screamed for her to escape. 

“Perhaps I should whip you. Or burn you. Or perhaps…perhaps I should trim those pretty little ears for you.” Reiltar bent forward, his lips touching the tip of her ear in a mockery of tenderness. She wanted to scream. She couldn’t. “Yes, so many good ideas,” the Iron Throne leader smiled. “But first, I think I should really put you in your proper place. It won’t even be much of a chore. After all, even soiled like you are you are reasonably pleasant to look at.” 

_No. Noooo…_

“Yes,” Reiltar said, raising her hand to his mouth. “I think it is time you learnt which one of us has the power. Perhaps you may even be able to teach my son a thing or two once I am done with you.” 

Then he kissed her fingertips and slowly and with great relish sucked her fingers into his mouth. 

Not being able to scream was probably the worst.


	60. Devil and Duty

**In The Cards 60 – Devil and Duty**

_The Devil stands for danger and evil, a dire threat whenever it turns up in a reading. Powerful and wicked, it refers to people or entities who delight in pain and suffering, and who grow strong on fear and misery. Be warned._

_Excerpt from ‘The Chaltar Deck Of Cards – An Introduction’_

_I admit I feel some reluctance towards getting my fortune told. Fortune tellers seem inordinately fond of promising ‘journeys across water’ among other things, and I really prefer to make my travel arrangements myself. All sorts of complications can arise from trusting somebody else with that._

_Excerpt from ‘Interview With An Assassin’_

Edwin sat at the table in his room, staring emptily into the wall. _I did what I had to do_ , he thought. _I had to do it to keep them both safe._

He didn’t know if he would have been able to persuade his teacher to leave Zaerini be. Possibly, but he didn’t dare take that chance. The redhead was much more powerful than she had been when he first met her, but not powerful enough for that challenge. And if she had been, that would have been no better. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing her, but the same went for his mentor. And that, of course, was the other reason for what Edwin had done. 

It had shocked the Red Wizard to the core to see Dekaras in such a state. Of course, he knew intellectually that the assassin was not invulnerable, but that wasn’t the same thing as actually having the fact thrown in his face. _And he would not pull out to save himself. Not if he thinks I need his help. And maybe I do. But not at the price of his life! Never that._

Edwin sighed again. _That letter should help keep them both safe, assuming he believes me._ His teacher had always been good at seeing through any subterfuge he attempted. But at the moment the assassin wasn’t exactly at his best. Loss of blood, exhaustion and a fever had seen to that. Edwin bit his lip. He felt dirty for taking advantage of that fact, despite telling himself that it was necessary. _At least I sent some more healing potions along with that letter_. The thought was small comfort, however. _But I had to do it! I had to. Didn’t I?_

Edwin stiffened. He had sensed something…some sort of presence in the room with him. He couldn’t hear anything, but there was definitely something there. “H-hello?” he said, his guilty conscience conjuring up his worst fear. “Is…anybody there?” Only silence answered. But was that an almost invisible movement in the shadows? It’s him! Edwin thought, his heart almost hammering itself out of his chest. _He’s guessed! And now…now he’s come after me._

A small black shape leapt onto the table, causing the wizard to shy back with a startled oath, almost falling off his chair. Then he recognized it and drew a deep breath of relief. “Oh,” he said. “Just the cat.”

And then Edwin felt certain that he was going insane as a haughty little voice spoke inside his head. _What do you mean, ‘just’? There’s no ‘just’ about it._

Edwin felt his mouth slowly drop open. “Was…was that you talking just now?” he asked the cat. 

He caught a distinctly annoyed look in the animal’s clear green eyes. _No, that was Vecna the Lich. Of course it was I. Now be quiet and listen. My Kitten is in bad trouble. She needs help, as quickly as possible._

“Your…kitten? You don’t have any kittens, I’m sure Zaerini would have mentioned…”

Softpaws hissed. _She is who I was talking about, wizard._

Edwin’s mind backtracked a little. “Hold on. Did you say…that she is in trouble?”

_Yes. I’m sure I was clear on that point. What else do you want me to do to make you understand, jump up and down and meow?_ By the time the cat finished the sentence Edwin was already out the door and accelerating. Once he reached Zaerini’s room he stormed inside, not pausing to knock. The room was empty, the bedclothes disarrayed. 

_They are gone already_ , Softpaws said as she quietly slipped into the room. _They took her with them. I can smell them in the room._

Edwin was barely able to think straight by now, and he had to support himself against the wall at the cat’s word. _Danak and his tame monkeys. If they have harmed her, I will grind every bone in their bodies to dust with my bare hands_. “Who?” he managed to whisper. “Who has taken her?”

_The two men who threatened you the other day. One of them was very quiet._

“Marek and Lothander. I remember them. But how could they take her without anybody noticing?”

Softpaws gave him a curious look. _She was feeling bad…there was something wrong with her. I could sense it, but I didn’t know what it was. She said she was going to be fine_. The cat’s mental voice sounded extremely upset by now. _I shouldn’t have believed her. They did something to her._

_Poison_ , Edwin thought. _That has to be it. Something to weaken her_. “What of the others?”

_They feel bad too, but not as bad as my Kitten. But they’re in no shape to go find her, they can barely stand. You’re the only one who’s not sick. And you’re the only one I can talk to._

“Me?”

_Yes. I can speak to my Kitten without effort, through our bond. With anybody else I have to work on it, and so I normally don’t do it, but now I have to. You were the easiest. Your mind is attuned to magic, and you have your own bond with her. I cannot read your mind directly as I can with her, but I can at least communicate with you_. The black cat leapt onto Edwin’s shoulder, nudging his cheek with her soft nose. _You must hurry. She needs help, and soon. Get help if you can, but otherwise we must go ourselves._

Edwin nodded, and his face settled into a look of icy determination. “I will,” he said, gripping his staff so tightly that his knuckles turned white. “And if they have harmed her, I will make them pay. Very slowly.” 

If Zaerini could have heard Edwin’s words, perhaps she would have felt some relief. Unfortunately, she couldn’t. She was on the floor in the dark dungeon cell, the heavy and sour-smelling body of Reiltar Anchev pinning her down. Not that that was really necessary. The poison was still working in her body, making her practically as weak and defenseless as a newborn. She fought and fought against it, trying to pull free from her assailant, but to no avail. The piercing needles of pain in her body kept her from using magic as well, even blocking her from the powers of her divine blood. Her lips were drawn back in a snarl of fear and disgust, her eyes blazing with hatred, revulsion and naked terror. Reiltar adored that, she could tell. He fed on it, like a vampire on blood. He wouldn’t be satisfied with simply killing her for opposing him and messing up his precious Iron Throne schemes, he wanted her utterly crushed, her spirit broken beyond repair. And she was very much afraid that he might succeed. 

“So,” Reiltar said, a dreadful tone of anticipation in his voice, “now it is time for us to begin in earnest. After the trouble you have caused, I shall take great pleasure in claiming my compensation. Perhaps, once I am done with you, I shall let Sarevok take a turn with you. It would serve him well, I think, to learn how to put a woman in her proper place. 

_I wish Sarevok would come right now_ , Rini thought, trying to twist her head away as the monster stroked her dirty cheek in a parody of affection, his finger tracing a path along her jaw and down her neck towards her collarbone. _At least my brother would kill me cleanly. Not like him. Not like The Devil._

The monster had begun with slapping, pinching, prodding, anything that would cause acute pain and humiliation without making her lose consciousness. He obviously wanted her awake to feel what he was doing. She tried to push her mind away from the knowledge of what he was going to do eventually, but it was impossible. Of course, the waiting helped the fear grow, which probably was exactly what the Devil wanted. She knew him, she had seen him in her Reading and knew that he would show no mercy, though he would love hearing her beg for it. She hoped she would be able to keep from doing so. 

Now the fingers were reaching for her clothes, unfastening them. Wherever they touched her skin she felt soiled, covered with filth. _Gorion. Please help me._

The Devil was touching her. Slowly, deliberately, intimately, wanting to drag the mental agony out. Being helpless to stop him was the worst, that and knowing what was soon to come. _It isn’t my fault_ she told herself. _Whatever he does…the shame is his. Not mine._ It wasn’t much of an encouragement though. She could feel tears in her eyes and from the pleased look on the monster’s face she knew that he was savoring every single one. 

“Sir?” The voice of the guard outside the door sounded tense with fear. “Sir, I know I wasn’t to interrupt, but you have to come at once.”

“What?” Reiltar growled, getting to his feet. “I left you specific orders that I was not to be disturbed.” 

“He did so on my orders,” a second voice said. “Your very position within the Throne is threatened, Reiltar! This is a serious emergency, you haven’t the time for entertainment at the moment.” 

“Is that so, Semaj?” Reiltar said in a cold voice, not looking at the girl on the floor. “Tell me more.” 

“Do you recall the land you bought from a certain Count Turnipsome out of Amn?” The voice outside the door sounded fearful, but also a little smug. “It seems it was worthless swampland, infested with Bugbears. The Throne higher-ups demand an explanation right now, their representatives are waiting for you.” 

Reiltar cursed loudly. “I will come,” he said. “And if I ever get my hands on that gnome, I will personally strangle him.” Then he turned to his prisoner. “As for you, think of this as an intermission. I will be back to deal with you when I have the time to spare. In the meantime, I’m sure you will eagerly await my return.” 

Rini didn’t answer him. _Thank you Count Turnipsome, whoever you are_. Her clothes were in some disarray, but at least the Devil hadn’t had the time to actually live up to his worst threats. Him touching her at all was bad enough though. _If I live through this, and if I get out of here, I will kill him. I will._

Concentrating on the hatred helped a little. At least it was better than the fear. She tried to summon up every scrap of it; all the bloodlust inherited from her sire, and felt it wrap itself around her soul like a warm and protective blanket. Yes, this was so much better than fear, though the fear was still there beneath. She could almost feel her teeth tearing the throat of the monster open, the hot blood splattering her face. _Yesssss…_ Slowly, painfully, she smiled, unaware that it was not only the torchlight that made her eyes suddenly glow like twin suns in the darkness of the cell. 

Reiltar’s dark frown hinted that he didn’t like what he was seeing at all. He had thought her cowed into submission, and this new defiance was annoying him, but also unnerving him a little. For a moment it seemed that he was going to hit her or say something. 

“Reiltar…” the voice outside the door said. “They are waiting.” 

The Iron Throne leader nodded. “Very well,” he said. “This…dalliance will have to wait.” With that he walked out, the door slamming shut behind him. 

_Yes_ , Zaerini thought, hardly aware of the cold air against the exposed parts of her body. _His death will be sweet._ The hot light in her golden eyes got slowly stronger as she contemplated Reiltar’s death. 

Edwin ran at full speed out the door of the Elfsong Tavern, so anxious that he paid no attention to where he was going and crashed straight into the human shape nervously hovering outside the door. Once the cursing wizard had managed to disentangle himself, he saw just whom he had collided with. A skinny youth, his face white beneath his freckles. Lothander. “You!” Edwin snarled, already reaching for his spell components. _I’ll peel every square inch of skin from his body and hang it up to dry._

“Aaaagh!” the young assassin screamed. “Please don’t hurt me! I can help you; I swear it!” 

_Listen to him_ , Softpaws told Edwin as she glared coldly at Lothander. _He may be telling the truth, and if he isn’t we can still kill him._

Edwin had to admit that the cat had a point. “Talk then,” he said. He slid the blade on his staff out and positioned it directly beneath Lothander’s chin, where it pressed slightly into the unprotected skin. Casting a spell would take a few moments, but this would be an instant death. “And for your sake you’d better have something to say that I like hearing.”

“Pleasepleasepleasedon’tkillme!” Lothander said in a very squeaky voice, a few drops of blood trickling down his throat as his Adam’s Apple bobbed up and down along the blade. “I never wanted to be an assassin, honestly!”

“Do I look like a career advisor to you? I’m starting to lose interest in this conversation, you know.” 

“No, please don’t! I…I couldn’t help it! I mean, I wanted to be an assassin, but not like this! Not being apprenticed to Marek. He works me like a slave, never listens to anything I say. I would run away, but I can’t. He knows I’m good at brewing poisons, and there’s one I made myself that he wants to keep on using, he won’t let me go. He…he put a Geas on me. If I try to leave him, I will sicken and die.” 

“My heart bleeds for you,” Edwin said with a sneer. “And speaking of bleeding…”

“You don’t understand! The poison…it’s the one I used on you all, I can help you get an antidote to it if you help me in return. And I can tell you where the redhead is.” 

“I can find her on my own if I have to,” Edwin spat. “And I can always take the antidote off your cold dead body.” 

“I don’t have it on me. And she’s deep in the Iron Throne dungeon, you’ll never get in without me.” 

Edwin hesitated. He wanted nothing more than to see the man’s blood cooling on the ground, but he didn’t want to make a mistake. “Go on.” 

“The poison was two-fold,” Lothander explained. “The first part was given with your dessert the other day, and the other last night. It will kill slowly but surely, and magic will not work on it. The antidote is two-fold as well. I have one part, Marek the other, and they must be combined. I made that in case our employers should want to revive you all for interrogation or something. Anyway, there’s a Diviner in the marketplace. I managed to scrape together enough money to ask him who could help release me from my Geas. He told me that the High Priestess Jalantha Mistmyr of Umberlee has the knowledge, and that you are the one who can help me get it from her. Get the cure for my Geas, and I will give you my part of the antidote, as well as tell you where you can find Marek to get the other half.”

Edwin barely heard him, as he had just realized something horrible. _Dessert…they put it in the dessert. And I let Zaerini have my dessert that day…to make her happy. That is why I was never affected by the poison. But she…she must have got twice as much as the others. And it’s all my fault_. “Very well,” he said, his voice so thick that he could barely recognize it himself. “I will do as you ask but know this. If she should die before I can get her out of there, then you will wish that you had swallowed that poison yourself. Do you understand? (And if she should die, I might as well die myself, so I will have nothing to lose.)”

“Yes,” Lothander whispered. “I understand perfectly.” 

Meanwhile, at the Iron Throne compound, Sarevok was having some difficulties of his own. Having received an urgent message from Winski he really was in no mood to deal with visitors, and told the nervous servant approaching him exactly that. 

“But…but sir!” the man said. “It…I mean he…said that he had found a certain ‘Zaerini’.” 

“Really?” Sarevok said, raising an eyebrow. “Very well. Where is he?”

“In the small waiting room, sir. I took the liberty of serving him some snacks.” The servant shuddered. “It was a terrible thing to watch…” 

When Sarevok entered the waiting room he found a very large ogre, almost as tall as he was. The ogre was happily munching on what seemed to be goat eyes, now and then tossing one into the air and catching it in his mouth. “Yeah, me smart ogre,” he muttered. “Remember it all…” 

“I am Sarevok,” Sarevok said. “You had something to say to me?” 

The ogre turned around and gave Sarevok a look that was obviously intended to be cunning. “Nope, nope, nope!” he said and wagged his meaty finger beneath Sarevok’s nose. “You no be Sarevok.” 

This was a new experience for certain. “I’m not?” Sarevok mildly asked. “And who am I then? For that matter, who are you?”

The ogre grinned widely. “Me be Larze, and me be very smart ogre! You no trick Larze, oh no. Me know all the signs.” He nodded at Sarevok and started ticking items off on is fingers. “Spiky armor…check. Glowing spooky eyes…check. Deep and booming voice…check. Really big and tall…check. Yep, you be Zaerini all right, it all fit. You think you smart and fool Larze, but Larze be no fool!”

“Who did you just say I was?” Sarevok said in an ominously calm voice. 

“You be Zaerini. Me got description, it all fit. Sorry, but me have to kill you now!”

“I am not Zaerini! What gave you that ridiculous idea?”

The ogre grinned again. “Helpful girl with hair like fire, very nice and helps Larze. She explain so it all make sense.” 

_My little sister again!_ Sarevok thought, certain that steam had to be coming out of his ears by now. _As if it isn’t enough that she constantly gets in my way she has to…to tease me about it! It…it isn’t FAIR! I’m the next Lord of Murder, I deserve to be treated with respect!_

“You want to hold still so Larze can kill you now?” the ogre asked. “Me will try to do it quickly.” 

There was a terrible roar, a squeal of pain and a thump. “That,” Sarevok said as he pulled the Sword of Chaos out of the dead ogre’s body, “is how you kill somebody quickly.” _Something I also intend to demonstrate to my annoying little sister once I finally get hold of her._

It was in a very dark mood that Sarevok entered Winski’s chambers, and it wasn’t about to get better. The wizard shouldn’t even be out of bed, still weakened as he was after the other night’s attack, but there he was, sitting at the table. He was staring intently into a crystal ball, not moving a muscle, and his eyes weren’t even blinking. Sarevok couldn’t help noticing that his face looked even gaunter than usual and that his skin was of an unhealthy waxen color that would have belonged on a corpse. 

“Close the door,” Winski said, startling Sarevok who had been certain the wizard hadn’t noticed him. “And wipe your sword off, I can smell the blood from here and quite frankly I’m nauseous enough already. Who have you been killing now?” 

“Just some ogre,” Sarevok said. “Courtesy of my _sister_ of course.” He hoped he didn’t sound as petulant as he felt, but Winsi’s raised eyebrows didn’t give him much hope of that. 

“Indeed,” the mage said. “Well, as it happens you have more pressing concerns than that. You did understand what I told you about what happened the other night, didn’t you?”

“Of course I did. Some assassin got in here, and you dealt with him. No harm is done.” 

“Some assassin?” Winski said in a dry voice. “Let me remind you that anybody capable of getting past my wards is extremely dangerous, and a genuine threat. Had I been asleep when he arrived, I doubt I would be alive now. And ‘no harm’? Are you acting like a fool on purpose? I told you about the scrolls he stole. Scrolls that will make you very vulnerable to magic should he decide to use them against you. Don’t you realize what a dangerous situation this is? Or are you so drunk on power that you think yourself invulnerable? You aren’t a god yet, you know.” 

“ENOUGH!” Sarevok didn’t realize his hand had gone to the hilt of his sword until his fingers were already grasping it. _What am I doing? This is Winski!_ The rage was getting stronger day by day, more and more difficult to control, and he could still smell the blood of the ogre, enticing him, goading him on. 

KILL HIM, MY SON, his sire’s voice said. HE IS IN YOUR WAY; HE WOULD KEEP YOU FROM MY THRONE. 

_No…not Winski. He wouldn’t do that._

DO YOU DOUBT YOUR FATHER? IN THAT CASE, PERHAPS HE IS RIGHT. PERHAPS YOU ARE TOO WEAK FOR MY PURPOSES. 

_No…Father, no!_

“Sarevok?” Winski said in a very quiet voice. “Are you all right?” The wizard looked apprehensive at the sight of the large warrior clutching his sword and muttering to himself, his golden eyes staring emptily in front of him. “You know, if I was harsh with you it is only because I worry for your safety.” 

There was a long moment of silence. “I believe you,” Sarevok finally said. “For now. But you must address me with the proper courtesies from now on and obey my commands. I am no longer a child, and I need no instruction.” 

Winski’s eyes narrowed dangerously and he pressed his lips together as if he was biting back a sarcastic retort. “If you say so,” he eventually said. “I’m sure you know best. I…suppose I hadn’t realized how much you have changed.” He gazed at the Crystal Ball again. “The poison on that trap I walked into is an inconvenience, it makes me rather ill and I don’t trust myself to cast any complex spells until I fully recover. It also seems resistant to magical healing, though it is wearing off gradually. Very interesting. I really wish I could ask Bron – or whatever his real name is – about it. An intriguing person.” 

Sarevok could hardly believe his ears. “How can you be so calm about it? The man tried to kill you, why aren’t you furious?” 

Winski shrugged. “Why would I be angry? It was obviously a professional thing, nothing personal. And I did my best to try to kill him in return. A shame really, I had been looking forward to more enjoyable conversations with the man.” He peered into the Crystal Ball. “Unfortunately, I’m having problems locating him. It was difficult from the start; I assume he knows how to mask his presence. Still, I found him a few times and sent people to deal with him. Since they haven’t returned, I assume he still lives, and now I can’t locate him at all anymore. He may have moved out of range.” 

“He could be dead.”

“Perhaps…but you shouldn’t put your trust in that. As I said, he is a dangerous person, and I really don’t like the idea of him being at large with a weapon that can be used against you.” Winski sighed. “It may be that you do not trust my judgment anymore, but once again I would implore you to be careful. He’s not likely to give up, you know.”

“What makes you say that?”

Winski was silent for a moment. “Because I did converse with him. I believe he and I have a great deal in common…and in that situation _I_ wouldn’t give up. Not if I thought it was important enough. I really wish you would trust me on this.” 

“Ha!” Sarevok said. “You need not worry. Am I not the greatest warrior who ever lived, Sarevok who tramples his foes beneath his feet, Sarevok who conquers all, Sarevok who bathes in the blood of his enemies and laughs at their dying wails?”

“You,” Winski said, “are Sarevok who has started speaking of himself in third person. Please refrain from doing so in my presence, I find it more than a little unsettling.”

“Oh. All right.” Sarevok smiled proudly at his old mentor. “It will all work out, Winski, you will see. Soon, very soon, vengeance will be mine, and then…the Throne.” 

Winski nodded. “I hope so,” he said. “I really do.” He didn’t sound all that confident though, and as he turned back to his scrying, he had a very worried frown on his face. 

_An indeterminate amount of time later and in an entirely different place…_

The floor was moving in a very unsettling manner. An empty cup was rolling back and forth across it in time with the motion, and what little furniture there was had been secured to the floor. Not that there was much, just a bunk, a small table with a lamp dangling above it and a pair of chairs. Dekaras watched them carefully, trying to make sense of what was going on. He had just awakened lying on the bunk in question, feeling as if he had just been dragged through a field of brambles and sharp rocks, and with no idea of where he was, something that was bothering him very much. There seemed to be a number of holes in his memory, with disjointed and puzzling images popping up between them. 

Steadying himself against the wall, the assassin slowly sat up, straining to remember the events of the past few days. _Let me think…there was something I needed to do…something important. I think I must have got wounded somehow._

The image of crackling lightning, the memory of sharp and paralyzing pain caused him to wince slightly. _Oh yes. The wizard…Winski. He had a wand, didn’t he? I’m lucky to be alive._

There was a blank after that, and then fleeting memories of being on the run, hiding and now and then being confronted with the people the Iron Throne wizard had sent after him. _I did something to him as well though, or he would surely have come after me himself. Something…can’t remember what exactly_. He had been extremely exhausted, he could remember that much, and it had been dark all around, dark and filthy, and there had been precious little time to recuperate what with all those bounty hunters. 

Dekaras took a deep breath. He figured it would probably be a good idea to get dressed, but in his current weakened state and factoring in the rocking floor he knew he ran a very real risk of falling flat on his face. _And we cannot have that, can we? That would be extremely humiliating, not to mention painful_. Slowly and meticulously he eventually managed to pull his clothes on without any great mishaps. Afterwards he felt at least a little better, though he was as thirsty as if he’d been walking around in a desert for days. 

_Better. Much better. Still not good, but a definite improvement. I suppose those sewers were not exactly the healthiest place to spend time in while wounded. I must have got ill._

The assassin started taking inventory of his body, pleased to notice that there didn’t seem to be any major lasting damage. Whatever wounds he had sustained had been healed, and though he was weaker than usual he could tell that the fever had run its course, once again allowing him to think clearly. 

_What did I do while I was affected by the fever though? Nothing too damaging, I hope. Wait…Edwin. There was something about Edwin_. Making a grimace, Dekaras shook his head, and then immediately wished that he hadn’t done so. It felt as if his brain were about to come out of his ears. He could vaguely remember having a conversation with Edwin about something. The details escaped him at the moment, blotted out by the wizard’s frantic face and pleading voice. _The poor boy must have thought I was about to drop dead at his feet. I hope I did not frighten him too badly._

Smiling faintly, the assassin slowly got to his feet, taking care to hold on to the bunk. It was past time to find out where he was. He must have found himself a new hiding place. The Low Lantern, perhaps. Now that his mind was starting to function again it was able to make the connection between moving floors and boats. There were plenty of river barges anchored in the Baldur’s Gate harbor as well; he could be on any one of them. 

Carefully he made his way up a steep ladder and out on the deck. The first impression was one of warm sun and a cool wind against his face and the smell of salty air, all of them pleasant sensations. Then his brain registered what information his eyes were trying to send it and he took a few hasty steps towards the railing, staring at the terrible sight that met him with a mixture of disbelief and dismay. 

He was indeed onboard a ship, but nowhere near the city of Baldur’s Gate, or any city at all for that matter. Far in the distance the dancing and cavorting waves merged into the horizon, and the sky was clear overhead. _The…ocean. I am on a ship in the middle of the ocean. How…how did I ever get here? And how do I get back?_ For get back he had to, one way or another. There were things he had to do, and most importantly, Edwin was still back in the city, getting himself into who knew what trouble. 

Briefly contemplating how far out at sea he might be, and discarding the option of trying to swim back, the assassin turned his head to see a sailor coming towards him. The man was fairly short, had a beard the color of rust, and was walking barefoot with the peculiar rolling gait common to those who spend much of their time at sea. “Morning!” the man said. “Feeling better?”

Dekaras narrowed his eyes slightly. The sailor didn’t seem to be a threat, but you could never know. And admitting weakness was never a good thing, that might encourage an attack. “I’m quite well,” he said, hoping that he could keep things peaceful. Even if he could probably defend himself against the sailors should worst come to worst, he had no idea how to navigate a ship. “Any news on when we might reach our destination?”

The sailor chuckled. “Will be some time yet for certain. Icewind Dale is a long way off.” 

Dekaras took some pride in being able to cope with most surprising and shocking situations and trying to keep Edwin out of trouble since early childhood had certainly prepared him well enough. This time though, he was forced to grab a firm hold of the railing as he felt his vision momentarily blurring. _ICEWIND DALE?_

“You sure you’re all right, sir?” the sailor asked, looking concerned. “You went a mite green there…”

Dekaras raised his hand. “I’m fine,” he curtly said. _Icewind Dale?_ “Tell me…do you remember anything in particular about my boarding this ship?” 

“No. Except you didn’t look too good, and you were very insistent that we had to leave in a hurry. Even paid the Captain extra to do so. Then you’ve spent the past days in your cabin, we almost thought you’d died in there.” The sailor shrugged. “Sorry, but I need to get back to my duties.” 

Dekaras watched as the man walked off, trying to make sense of what was going on. Why in the world would he book passage on a ship to Icewind Dale of all places? He had duties to attend to back in Baldur’s Gate, and even if he had decided to leave town he certainly wouldn’t have set sail for that frozen hellhole. Deep in thought, he stuck his hand in his pocket, and was surprised to feel his fingers meet crackling paper. 

It was a letter. Crumpled, smudged here and there, and with Edwin’s grandiose and extravagant signature at the bottom. Reading it through, the assassin got the feeling that he had read it already, during his illness. Certainly, some words and phrases seemed familiar, as well as extremely worrying. It was a desperate plea for help. 

After a few initial phrases of greeting Edwin launched into a hurried and tense explanation, describing that Zaerini had had a sudden change of heart. Apparently, she had encountered Sarevok once again, and this time she had decided that at the moment she couldn’t possibly hope to defeat him. _She has decided to travel to Icewind Dale_ , Edwin wrote. _She says that there is plenty of adventure and fame to be had there, and that the Sword Coast will simply have to manage without her. I have not brought up our proposal that she serve our interests, it is not a good time to do so. However, once she is safely away from Sarevok I feel certain that she will listen to reason. I have sent a message to Danak as well, explaining this. We will leave at once._

Dekaras glared darkly at the letter. _Explain? To Danak? Has the boy gone out of his mind? He should know better than that_. He went on reading, as Edwin asked his mentor to meet up with him at a certain date in the town of Lonelywood. _Town? That is barely a speck on the map. Probably swarming with those ridiculous ‘Barbarian Hero’ types wearing nothing but leather posing pouches and speaking in grunts._

Still, for all its silliness, Edwin’s letter sounded desperately pleading, and there could be no doubt that he had been in genuine distress as he wrote it. _Please_ , the wizard finished. _I know this is asking a lot of you, but I really need you to do this. Once you receive this note I will already be on my way, but there is a ship in the harbor at this moment that will serve you. Know that I would not ask this favor of you if I could see any other alternative, and that I regret the inconvenience it will cause. You have always been there for me when I needed your aid – I pray that you be so one final time and that you will eventually forgive me for this._

Dekaras thoughtfully folded the letter and put it away. Edwin had certainly sounded desperate. _But why? Surely he must know by now that I will do anything within my power to aid him and that there is no need to apologize for asking that._

The assassin stared into the frothing water for some time, thinking. Something was wrong, he was certain of it. He could vaguely remember reading this letter before, and immediately rushing off to get himself onto this ship, though the details were still fuzzy and unclear. In his previous feverish state, he obviously hadn’t wondered about the contents of the letter, but now he did. It all sounded like Edwin, with its entire ridiculous and overly elaborate plan, but all the same he couldn’t quite shake the feeling that something was…off. _But he sounded really distressed; I know I am right about that part. And he trusts me to come to his help; he is counting on it. Of course, I don’t have much choice about it now, but I still would go. True, I would have liked to ask him some questions first, but that cannot be helped. If he needs me, I must be there._

Satisfied that he had made up his mind, Dekaras looked at the vast expanse of the sea. He had never been much for sea travel, but he had to admit that it was beautiful, and the fresh wind had done an excellent job of clearing his head. He felt almost like his old self again, and with a few more days rest he didn’t doubt that he would soon be fully recuperated. _And a good thing too. Knowing Edwin, he will almost certainly manage to get involved in some disastrous scheme before I next see him. What was he thinking, deliberately ignoring my warning about the Red Wizards like this? The boy is far too headstrong, always thinking he can handle everything on his own. Well, at least we will have Sarevok off our backs while I try to think of some way to salvage the situation. I will think of something I am sure. Having Edwin safely away from Sarevok ought to help my concentration some. Hopefully he’ll also manage to keep from insulting any dangerous berserker warriors._

Reason aside, the assassin decided that he might as well make the most of this journey now that he was on it. It wasn’t as if he could turn back, but he wouldn’t have done so even if it had been possible. After all, Edwin needed him. Edwin trusted him. That was the one important thing. _And I would never dream of betraying that trust._


	61. Edwin To The Rescue

**In The Cards 61 – Edwin To The Rescue**

_At the end of the darkest tunnel, you will occasionally see a bright light. If you are very lucky, it won’t be a dragon just about to breathe fire in your face._

_Excerpt from ‘Ruminations Of A Master Bard’_

The Temple of Umberlee was furnished with water, as befitted the sea goddess. Shallow waterways crossed the floor inside, intersected by narrow bridges. Seaweed hung from the walls and ceiling, and the sharp smell of saltwater was heavy in the air. The High Priestess Jalantha Mistmyr was a middle-aged woman, with a calm face and cool gray eyes. She wore a shimmering ceremonial robe in blue and green, but her feet were bare, and she stood in the water with no indication of feeling the chill. “So,” she said. “You wish the Bitch Queen’s aid in the removal of a Geas? Know then that Umberlee offers nothing for free. If you wish for her aid, you must first do something for me.”

“Let me guess,” Edwin said. “You’re going to ask me to go on a ‘quest’ for some ludicrous item that you really ought to be able to buy for yourself at the nearest market. This in turn will force me to run around all over the city fetching junk for a dozen other obnoxious people, most of it to be found in remote and dangerous locations. (And then there’ll probably be a labyrinth to top things off.) He was getting increasingly annoyed by this delay. What he really wanted to do was to magic himself into the Iron Throne building and teleport Zaerini out of there. Which would have been just fine and dandy if he’d only known any teleport spells. Charging the gates with brute force was obviously out of the question. His teacher would probably have been able to sneak him past guards - if only he’d been available. _And we all know whose fault it is that he isn’t_ , the Red Wizard morosely told himself. _But I did what I had to do, though he may never forgive me for it. And I would rather have him alive and despising me than dead._

So, with all other options closed to him Edwin found himself with no choice but to obey the wishes of the reluctant assassin Lothander who claimed not only to have an antidote to the insidious poison that would eventually kill Zaerini and his other companions, but also to be able to get him inside the Iron Throne. That didn’t mean he had to like it, however. 

_Settle down, wizard_ , Softpaws cautioned him from her place on his shoulder. _Don’t annoy her too much, we need her._

The black cat had firmly declared that she didn’t intend to get her feet wet, and that he would serve admirably as her chair. Annoying as she was, Edwin couldn’t help but appreciate the company and wonder what it would be like to have a familiar of his own. 

“All right,” Edwin sourly said. “We’ll fetch the stupid thing, whatever it is. (Probably a magical flower growing on the dark side of the moon, or the horn of a black unicorn.)”

The priestess gave him a rather odd look. “Who were you talking…never mind. As long as you do as I ask, I don’t care about your mental health. What I want is a certain item necessary for a holy ritual I soon intend to perform. The Book of Wisdom. It is currently held by the weakling acolytes of Tymora, in what they call ‘the Lady’s House’. I do not care how you acquire it, but that is my price for the removal of the geas. Do not come back without it.” 

A short while Edwin headed into the more luxurious parts of Baldur’s Gate. Running was out of the question or he would already have exhausted himself, but he had the terrible feeling that time might well be running out for Zaerini and walked as quickly as he could. “Can you sense her yet?” he whispered to the cat on his shoulder, not caring who heard him. 

_Only vaguely_. Softpaws sounded as worried as the wizard felt. _She is alive, but she is in pain. I cannot make direct contact with her mind though. I think that’s because of the poison, it’s blurring her thoughts._

_Damn!_ Edwin thought. _Anything could be happening to her. She…she could be tortured. She could even be dying_. His jaw set stubbornly as he blinked to keep his vision clear. _Well, I will not let her, and if she thinks I’m about to let her go and die on me I’ll show her differently. She will be well. She must be. And whatever Sarevok is doing to her, he will get repaid tenfold._

The Red Wizard was so deep in thought that he hardly noticed the small redheaded boy until he almost tripped over him. “Oh!” the child cried out. “Sorry, sir. I…I was just…” He sniffled, wiping at his eyes and smearing the dirt in his face even further. Then he seemed to notice something. “Sir…you’re a wizard. Please, you have to help me!” 

“Do I look like a wandering paladin?” Edwin scoffed. “If you want your playmate turned into a frog, you’ll have to ask somebody else, I’m extremely busy.” To his horror he saw the child’s eyes open like a floodgate. 

“My…my friend is dead, sir!” the boy wailed. “Please, I know you can help me! It’s…it’s all my fault for daring him!” He suddenly hugged the wizard tightly, sobbing into his robes, desperate for any kind of support. 

Edwin felt at an utter loss as to what to do. He didn’t really have any experience in handling children. Once again, he desperately wished that his mentor had been present. Dekaras would certainly have known what to do. Come to think of it, what had he done the times when Edwin himself had been this hysterical? “There, there,” the wizard managed, awkwardly patting the child’s back. “I suppose there can be no harm in telling me what’s happened, though I’m certain whatever it is can be ridiculously easily solved by a mage of my superior skill.” 

_Awwwww!_ Softpaws sounded annoyingly amused. _Never knew you had it in you, wizard._

“Shut up, you,” Edwin muttered. “I’m only doing this to get him to stop making my robe soggy, you know. There is no other reason. None whatsoever.” Of course he wasn’t. He was pretty certain that Red Wizards weren’t supposed to be publicly hugged by small children, and certainly not to…somewhat appreciate it. Then he had an idea that made a wicked smile cross his face. “Here you go,” he told the child, hastily depositing the cat in his arms. “Now you can hug _her_ and keep from annoying me.” 

The outraged look on the cat’s face as the boy adoringly hugged her so hard she could scarcely breathe was absolutely priceless. 

“Oh, thank you sir!” the boy said, smiling. “Thank you ever so much! My name is Varsi by the way. Here, if you follow me, I’ll show you to my guardian, it will only take a minute of your time. He’s a Lord High Priest of Tymora, he lives just over that way.” 

“Now wait a minute! I didn’t promise…(Hold on. A High Priest of Tymora, is it? That could be useful.) Lead on, I meant to say.”

As it turned out, the priest in question was the father of Varsi’s best friend. The two boys had dared each other to sneak into the temple of Umberlee, where the priestesses had shown no mercy and slain one of the children while the other barely escaped with his life. 

“I know I could raise my son if only I could have his body back,” the priest explained, his face haggard and strained with grief, “but the priestesses of the Bitch Queen will not give him to me. If you will negotiate with them on my behalf, I will do anything in return.” 

Edwin carefully stroked his beard. “Anything, you say? There is only one thing I need from you. Grant me the Book of Wisdom from the Lady’s House, and I shall do as you ask.” 

The priest went quiet for a moment, closing his eyes as if listening to an inner voice. Then he nodded. “Tymora tells me that your need is great, as great as mine. You may have the book even now – if you swear to bring me my son.” 

“Very well,” the Red Wizard said. “I swear it. You strike me as a gullible fool though, to trust me so easily. How do you know I will not simply take off with the book? (And I cannot say it isn’t tempting.)”

The priest smiled faintly. “Tymora wishes her servants to put their faith not in security, but in chances and luck. I am doing so and hope that she will repay me by aiding us both.” 

_So_ , Softpaws asked as she silently padded by Edwin’s side back towards the Temple of the Bitch Queen. _Do you intend to keep your word?_

“Of course, I will!” the wizard said, feeling quite insulted. “I happen to take that sort of thing very seriously. And the arrangement gained us what we needed.” He patted the heavy tome he carried beneath one arm. _Soon, my Hellkitten. Very soon I will have you out of that place, and then those responsible will pay dearly._

_And would you have aided that man if you didn’t think it would serve my Kitten’s interests?_

“Certainly not.” Edwin thought for a moment. “As I said, I am not some wandering knight, constantly distracted by ‘noble quests’. My loyalties are few, but strong, and no stranger may lay claim to them. I care not for what the ‘noble’ thing to do would be, only to see Zaerini safe, and I will not waste any time when every second may be important.” 

The cat purred quietly. _That is exactly what I wished to hear, wizard. I am pleased._

“You are?”

_Oh yes. There is nothing wrong with being nice and polite to others…but your first loyalty should lie with your mate._

“She’s not my…”

Softpaws gave him a withering look. _Oh please. Not you too. Now keep walking. We have things to do…how do you intend to gain that child’s body by the way?_

“Oh, I have an idea. Somebody owes us a favor after all.” 

Once back in the temple, Edwin turned the magical tome over to the High Priestess in return for the geas removal scroll, and then requested to see the child priestess Tenya, the one for whom the adventurers had retrieved a magical bowl. “You have a debt to pay,” he said, “and I have come to collect it. Hand me the body of the boy killed here recently, if it still exists, and we will make no further demands of you.” 

Tenya pursed her lips and watched the wizard with eyes as fathomless as the cold sea. “Very well,” she said. “The Sea will sometimes return what was taken…and you will serve the purpose of the Mother nicely. She has no wish to see a…resurrection, with all it entails. Your friend will oppose that – if she lives.” 

“What do you know of her?” the wizard angrily demanded, his eyes flaring with fury and concern. “I have told you nothing!” 

The girl sneered. “The Mother has told me, for she sees much. Now, go…and hurry. Delay much further – and it will be too late. The Mother would not like that.” 

“The Mother’s opinion matters about as much to me as that of a freshly cooked cod,” Edwin spat. “Now get out of my way. I have a corpse to deliver.” 

The journey back through the city was a nightmare, and Edwin constantly had to keep to the back alleys in order not to be spotted. Walking about with the body of a dead child was definitely the wrong way to attract attention, and he didn’t want to suddenly find himself chased by an angry mob. It was a great relief when he was finally able to get rid of the corpse, and saw Tymora’s priest gratefully first hug, and then scold his newly raised son. The sight caused a painful twinge in his heart. After all, his teacher had given him plenty of similar lectures under similar circumstances. _If only he were here…he would already have helped me deal with this. But it is only myself I have to blame._

“Is there anything else I can do to repay you?” the priest asked once he had sent his still weak child off to bed. “Anything at all?”

Edwin thought for a moment. “You could always pray a little,” he suggested. “Not for me…for somebody else. She…she can probably use all the good luck she can get right now.” 

“As you ask,” the priest said, a compassionate look on his face. “But in return for my son’s life, I’m sure I can manage to pray for you both.” 

Anxious to get on with things, Edwin set out to make contact with Lothander. He found the gangly young assassin nervously huddling in a corner at the Blade and Stars inn where they had agreed to meet. “Did you get it?” he asked. “Did you get the spell to reverse my Geas? Oh please, say that you did!”

“I got it, you sniveling sorry excuse for an assassin,” Edwin said with a contemptuous look. “And you had better deliver what you promised in return for it, unless you want me to turn you into an earthworm and use you for fish bait.” He proceeded to recite the spell from the scroll, pleased to see a faint golden light spread and envelop the other man. “Well?” he asked. 

“It…it worked! I am free! Free! Oh, thank you, thank you so much!” There were tears of happiness running down the young man’s freckled face. “Here,” he said, handing Edwin a small bottle. “Here is my part of the antidote. Marek has the rest; you will find him at the Blushing Mermaid.”

“Good.” Edwin smiled a very unpleasant smile as he bent forwards to look the younger man in the eyes. “You will await me here, until I return. Then, you will make certain I get inside the Iron Throne, and out again.” 

“But I…”

“Or I could always take up fishing, I suppose. Hobbies are said to be relaxing, and I am feeling rather tense at the moment. (Using him for necromantic spell components might also be beneficial.)” 

“Yes, yes,” Lothander hurriedly said. “I agree.” 

_Does that mean we won’t get to kill him?_ Softpaws asked, sounding a little disappointed. 

“Yes,” Edwin said, not caring if it sounded like he was talking to an invisible entity. If Lothander thought him a dangerous lunatic, so much the better. “I suppose we must leave him alive, for now. But I have a feeling this Marek will be an acceptable compensation…” _Please hold on_ , he thought as he envisioned the face of Zaerini watching him anxiously. _Just a little while longer, my Hellkitten. I am coming for you. I am coming_. He only hoped that he wouldn’t be too late. 

Edwin was strongly tempted to kick the door to the Blushing Mermaid’s upper gambling room open, but in the end, he decided against it. Satisfying, as it would have been, it wasn’t the _wizard_ thing to do, not even for the sake of drama. Smiling unpleasantly to himself he removed a small wand that was hanging from a loop on his belt and pointed it at the door. 

WOOOOOM! The door was neatly incinerated by the thick bar of flame that struck it, and the remaining bits of charcoal dropped to the floor. _Now that is the wizard thing to do_ , Edwin thought as he stepped through the still smoldering doorway, wand raised. 

The assassin Marek was getting to his feet, staring at the door with an expression of fear and disbelief on his plain face. The blonde courtesan who had been sitting on his lap stared at Edwin with wide eyes and then hastily retreated into an adjoining room. Edwin strode into the room, never taking his eyes off the assassin. He could practically feel magic crackling from his fingertips, dancing through his blood, filling him with ecstasy. _Now, which would be the most satisfying way of killing him…_

“You!” Marek called out. “How did you…never mind. I know why you’re here, but you’ll never have the antidote!” He pulled a small and dark bottle out of his pocket and held it by the neck, raising it high. “Come one step closer, and I’ll smash it to bits! You’ll never be able to reconstruct the antidote before all your friends die!” 

Edwin froze, cursing under his breath. _Can’t let him smash that bottle…but he must die, or he will do so anyway._

“Yes,” Marek taunted. “That’s the way of it. I suppose you care for them enough to pause, don’t you? Or perhaps…just one of them? The redhead, maybe?”

_Does_ everybody _know that?_

“I have no idea what you are talking about,” Edwin sneered. “She means nothing to me.” He couldn’t afford to show any weakness, his opponent would take advantage of that in a second. 

Marek smiled, raising the bottle a little higher. “Oh no? Then I suppose you won’t mind my employer making…use of her?” His smile widened a little at the Red Wizard’s blank look. “He is something of a connoisseur when it comes to female flesh, I’m sure he’ll appreciate her. Who knows…he may even let me use her some…once she has been properly broken in of course.” 

When Edwin got really angry, angry enough that simple sarcasm wouldn’t suffice, it was usually an explosive thing, with lots of flashes and bangs, and broken things flying all over the place. It was fire, and lightning, and loud thunder, and in general behaving very much like his mother did when _she_ got angry. Not this time though. Marek’s poisonous words dropped into his heart like slowly falling vitriol, and as they seared his soul, he turned…cold. It was as if his mind had suddenly been encased in ice, cold and hard, and utterly merciless. And…suddenly everything became so clear, he could see every pore on the assassin’s so very ordinary face, every shifting nuance in the dark bottle glimmering in the torchlight, even the beating pulse at the man’s throat. And he could see something else as well, down on the floor, though he was certain Marek hadn’t noticed, and a soft voice was whispering in his mind. Slowly, slowly, the wizard bared his teeth in something that might almost have been mistaken for a smile, and as Marek caught sight of it his eyes widened a little and he took an involuntary step backwards. Afterwards Edwin was of course totally unable to consciously reconstruct the Look, much as he tried, even despite practicing in front of a mirror. 

“No,” Edwin said in a very mild voice, purposefully not looking at the floor. “I think I can promise you that I will be the one doing the breaking, actually. Starting now!” 

The Magic Missile spell had several advantages, but its most important one was how quickly it could be cast. Five angrily red and glowing orbs leapt from Edwin’s fingertips even before he had finished his sentence, and they slammed into Marek’s raised hand with a hiss and a crackle. The assassin cried out in pain, and the antidote tumbled from between his suddenly broken fingers, hurling towards the floor and destruction. It never reached it though. Softpaws leapt, neatly catching the tiny bottle in her mouth, and darted away, slipping under a cupboard where she would be out of harm’s way. 

Marek stared after the black cat in dismay, groaning and clutching his damaged hand. The momentary surprise was all the advantage Edwin needed to launch his second attack. Bitter and freezing cold enveloped the Iron Throne assassin like a deadly blanket, freezing the very blood in his veins and the flesh on his bones. _Impressive_ , Edwin thought, still feeling that deadly calm. _Very impressive. It seems the time I spent trying to learn the ‘Cone of Cold’ wasn’t entirely wasted._

The predatory look on Edwin’s face remained as he watched what remained of Marek. The assassin had been neatly frozen into a lifeless statue, still with a surprised and pained look upon his face, and he was freezing cold to the touch. “As I said,” Edwin remarked, “I think I will do the breaking around here.”

A single whack with the staff was all that it took to reduce Marek to a heap of neat little cubes that might have been used to chill drinks. Softpaws gave them an approving look as she emerged from under the cupboard. _Very nice hunting, wizard_ , the cat remarked. _Shall we move on to larger prey then?_

“Yes,” Edwin said as he took the bottle of antidote and scattered the icy cubes with a contemptuous sweep of his foot. “Yes, we certainly shall. (And…and if Sarevok has dared to…to touch her…then the tale of his demise will be one to give even a demon lord nightmares and nervous twitches for millennia to come.)” 

There was a small side entrance to the Iron Throne building, used mainly for servants and deliveries, and once the two halves of the antidote had been combined that was where Lothander led Edwin. Stopping by to let the rest of the party benefit from the cure first was out of the question. Lothander had explained that while the antidote would remove the poison from the afflicted person’s system there would still be a lingering weakness for a day or so. That meant that the others would be of no help in rescuing Zaerini, even if they were cured, and taking time to cure them might mean losing time that the bard didn’t have to spare.

“Here,” the freckled young assassin nervously said and handed Edwin a key. “This opens the side entrance, and the main dungeon door as well. There will probably be guards though. Can…can I please go now? Please? I honestly would have preferred not having to hurt your friends…I…I think I’ll just go and become a…a butcher or something.” 

For a moment Edwin considered killing him. It would certainly give him some satisfaction, seeing that he had been involved in Zaerini’s abduction, but a fight on the street outside the Iron Throne probably wasn’t a good idea, and it would waste his resources. “You may go,” he said in a cold and matter-of-fact voice. “And I suggest you go far away. If my friend is not brought safely out of the place you helped put her in, then I promise you that I will come looking for you, and I’ll bring along a sharpened wooden pole, a live eel, some salt, and a large assortment of needles. I hope you catch my meaning.” 

“Y-yes,” Lothander stammered. “I d-d-do, sir.” Then he rapidly turned tail and ran off down the street. 

_What could you possibly do with those strange things?_ Softpaws asked. 

Edwin shrugged. “I have no idea. But neither did he. I’m sure the spineless fool made up something appropriately horrendous.” He craned his neck backwards to study the Iron Throne building. It was a massive compound built from gray stone, and it looked very grim and uninviting. “And now, let’s go inside and tear that place down on top of Sarevok’s head. After we fetch Zaerini out of the dungeons, of course.” _I am coming, Hellkitten. Please hold out. Just a little while longer. I am coming._

Sarevok, as it happened, wasn’t present in the Iron Throne building at this particular moment. Rather, he was at the other side of the city, in the Ducal Palace, getting prepared for yet another aggravating meeting with the current Grand Dukes, in order to convince them of the wisdom of war against Amn. _The war that will pave the way for my Ascension_ , he thought. _Rivers of blood, flooding these very streets, sweeping all these little humans aside like gnats. And that river will bear me straight to my Father’s Throne. Just a little while longer now…my wait is almost over._

When a deferential pageboy told the large warrior that a wizard had come to see him, he half expected it to be Winski, despite knowing that his old mentor still wasn’t entirely recovered from his recent ordeal. Instead, it was the young but talented mage Semaj who nervously greeted him. “What do you want?” Sarevok asked. “I am extremely busy.” 

“I have important news,” the wizard whispered once he had set up a ward to ensure privacy. “I thought you should be told at once…Zaerini has been captured. She is in a cell in the Iron Throne dungeons even now.” 

For a moment it felt as if the world stood still, hanging in empty space between one heartbeat and another. His little sister…captured? His laughing, teasing, fiery, unbearably annoying sister shut inside one of the dark holes in the Iron Throne dungeon? “What?” Sarevok asked, his voice strangely tuneless and empty. “What did you say?” _This…this isn’t right. She is supposed to die, yes, to be slain in glorious battle. Not…not to be trapped in the cold, away from the light until she withers away_. “Who? Who has done this?” 

Semaj licked his lips, looking extremely anxious. “It…it was Reiltar. He used Marek and Lothander, poisoned her so she could be taken alive. It seems he intends to have her before he kills her, I found him in the cell, all over her. He even mentioned something about inviting you in so you could learn how to properly handle a woman.” 

Sarevok was absolutely still, as if he had suddenly been turned to stone. Assuming stone statues could have fiery eyes shining with murderous fury that was. _So I could learn how to ‘properly’ handle a woman…he…he would do that? Yes, of course he would. He wouldn’t be the accursed fiend he always has been if he didn’t do a thing like that. Power, pleasure and pain, they always went hand in hand for him. He…he demonstrated that often enough…Mother…I would hear her sometimes at night as he used her…see the marks…and then…the garrote. Her lovely face, bloated and black…_

“Sarevok?” Semaj said, taking a step backwards. His teeth started chattering. “Sarevok?”

_That…that…that loathsome little WORM! He would do that to my sister, would he? To one of the Children of Bhaal, one whose footsteps in the lowly mud of the mortal world he is unworthy to worship? He would defile her with his foul touch, seeking to drag her down to his level? He would take her against her will, seeking to extinguish her light?_

“Sarevok? Are…are you all right?” Semaj was quite pale by now, and his legs were shaking as he saw the look on the larger man’s face. 

“RRRRRRAAAAAAARRRRRRRGGGGHHH!” The roar was that of an enraged beast, something very large and very dangerous. A bear perhaps, or a lion. Sarevok’s face was twisted with rage, a murderous anger that was more than human, and the fires of his eyes were burning brighter than the terrified Semaj had ever seen them. Then, the roar stopped, as suddenly as it had begun, though the golden eyes still burnt with hate and bloodlust. Sarevok started walking towards the door, picking up speed as he went. His face might as well have been carved from stone. 

“S-s-sarevok? Wh-where are you going?”

For a few seconds Semaj was certain that those words would be his last. Sarevok stopped in his tracks, turned around, and looked at him, his massive form radiating menace as the sun radiates heat. “I,” Sarevok said, “am going to see my sister. You will not detain me further.” 

Semaj vigorously shook his head. When Sarevok was in this mood, nobody would dare speak against him. Well, possibly Winski, but Semaj privately suspected that the older mage was a little insane. 

Sarevok moved through the crowded streets of Baldur’s Gate, and the crowds scattered rapidly at his approach. There was something about the sight of a very large man in spiky armor, and carrying a huge sword, that implied that getting out the way would be a good idea, particularly since he seemed to be in an extremely dangerous mood. Sarevok barely noticed the people around him of course. The same thoughts kept running through his head, again and again. 

_I will not let him desecrate her. I will kill him first, no matter the Plan. She is mine. My sister. Mine to cherish, mine to kill. We are connected, by blood and by spirit, and nobody can understand her as I can, soul to soul. Her death will be mine, and it will be a glorious one, a dignified one. How could I ever have let Winski talk me into sending assassins after her? I see it so clearly now; I see everything more clearly these days. It must be just the two of us at the end, brother and sister, in a first and final meeting of souls. Should I kill her now? It…is so hard to think through the red mist, the whispering words. I should kill her now. Yes. I should. But…but then it will not be as I wished it. No. I do not have to decide until I get there and see what has happened. But I know one thing. For doing this to her, I shall make Reiltar’s death all the more drawn out and agonized. Perhaps I could resurrect him and kill him over and over again? Once for Mother…once for Winski…once for my Sister…and once…once for me._

_Yes. Once for my Sister…and once for me._

And as he increased his pace even further, Sarevok smiled, reciting his promise silently to himself, over and over again. 

“So,” Edwin said at roughly the same time Sarevok had his unsettling news, “now I simply have to device a way to get us past the guards. That should be simple enough for a man of my overpowering intellectual skill.” 

_Just turn yourself invisible_ , Softpaws said, flicking her tail impatiently. _We don’t have any time to waste, you know._

“Yes. Er…unfortunately I do not have any invisibility spells memorized at the moment. But I do have these.” The Red Wizard proudly displayed two small bottles, one of them filled with a bright purple liquid, the other with a red one. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of using these earlier.”

Softpaws eyed them suspiciously. _What do they do? Can they give you proper night eyes and glossy fur?_

“Much better. (And besides, my ‘fur’ is perfect already.) No, these are those rare potions that Imoen bought at the Nashkel fair. I have been doing some careful studying and experimentation on them, and now I know exactly what they do. One will raise my already awesome mental capacity to godlike proportions (even more godlike, I should say) and the other will gift me with equally impressive strength. That will be just the edge we need in rescuing Zaerini. Now, a full dose would last approximately 24 hours, but there is no sense in wasting it. Just a sip should do the trick.” 

_Are you sure you know what you’re doing, wizard?_

“Of course I’m sure! I know exactly what I’m doing. Now watch, and tremble with awe at the magnificent powers of Edwin Odesseiron and his Potency Potions!” Without further ado, Edwin swallowed some of the red potion. It tasted a bit like strawberries, actually. And of alcohol. Edwin felt his head exploding. Not literally, but that was the general feeling. It was as if he had been locked in a dark room all his life, and now somebody had thrown open the door and the windows, and the sweet and warm smells of a summer meadow was streaming through them, along with golden sunlight. His mind was swelling, expanding, and things that had previously been confusing suddenly became ludicrously simple. _I am…I am a GOD! Practically anyway. Why, with this power I could take on the world all by myself! I could challenge Sarevok to a duel, and I would be able to beat him with one hand tied behind my back. I’m certain I could learn to use a sword on the way, that will be no problem for my marvelous mind._

“I’m going in to fight Sarevok to the death now,” Edwin said, a wide and drunken smile plastered all over his face. “You don’t have to come unless you wish to be my admiring audience. Then I’ll get Zaerini out of there, and then I’ll become Supreme Ruler of the World, and then I’ll challenge the gods and Ao himself, and then…”

_Wizard, have you become insane? You’re acting like you’ve had too much catnip._

“No, no, I feel excellent.” Edwin suddenly noticed that something was amiss now that he thought about it. His muscles were trembling painfully from the effort of carrying his staff. In fact, even the weight of his robes was trying to drag him down to the ground. “Oh…it seems there is a side effect of decreased strength. Well, that will be easily cured.”

_Wizard, DON’T do it!_

Too late. Edwin had already taken a swig of the purple potion. This one tasted somewhat like blueberries. And alcohol. Strong alcohol. And now he could feel new strength pumping through his body, glorious strength like nothing he had ever experienced before. “Ha!” he triumphantly said, picking up an old discarded horseshoe off the ground and easily bending it using only two fingers. “Tremble in fear, Sarevok! Edwin Odesseiron, the strongest man in the WORLD is coming to tear you to pieces! (Better hide beneath the bed right now.)” Manfully, Edwin took a few determined steps towards the door of the Iron Throne building, and immediately fell flat on his face. It had suddenly become exceedingly difficult to coordinate his legs, not to mention his arms and head. 

_Idiot!_ Softpaws hissed. _That one made you about as graceful as a slug. And the one before that made you lose what little sense you had._

Edwin wasn’t easily discouraged, however. “Nonsense, this will work beautifully. Just watch.” Grinning inanely, he knocked on the door, and it collapsed inward with a loud crash. Edwin smiled with drunken ecstasy and gave his hand a loving look. “I could really get used to this…” he said. 

A short while later Edwin was wavering along one of the long corridors inside the Iron Throne compound, stubbornly trying to keep his balance, a task that was incredibly difficult under the influence of the Purple Potion. For one thing, he kept running into walls, and the walls kept breaking when he struck them. The Iron Throne was starting to resemble a cheese. There had been some guards in the way, and he had launched spell after spell at them, laughing insanely at the ridiculous ease with which the magic flowed through him. Now he had no spells left, and his firewand was used up as well, but he didn’t mind that at all, because the incredible strength was also highly satisfactory. As he descended a flight of stairs into the depths of the dungeon five heavily armed guards ran towards him, waving swords. “No, no!” Edwin said and wagged his finger at them. “You have it all wrong. None may stand against the Dread Wizard, you really should know that by now.” 

As the guards charged him, he picked one of them up with one hand, intending to throw him at his comrades. Unfortunately, he dropped the guard on his own foot instead, and reflexively tried hopping about on one leg, swearing. The hopping on one leg proved much too difficult in his current state though, and he tripped and fell at the feet of the puzzled guardsmen. Fortunately, his arms flailed about so violently as he fell that he knocked them all out, and one of them slid all along the corridor before he stopped. 

_Now do you get why you shouldn’t play with strange potions?_ Softpaws huffed. _You look incredibly silly, and it’s all your own fault._

“Hmpf. You sound just like my…” Edwin’s currently non-existent common sense would probably have caused him to blurt out something he would rather keep secret, if not for the fact that at that moment he noticed something very interesting. A ring of keys at one of the unconscious guards’ belt. “Ah, just what we need,” he said. “Come along then, kitty.” 

Softpaws stared incredulously after him before she collected herself enough to run after him. _KITTY? Are you begging for claw marks in your groin?_

“But you are a pretty little kitty…”

The cat’s mental voice sighed deeply with exasperation. _Let’s just go._

Edwin kept wandering through the dungeon, going slowly deeper, searching for Zaerini. So far, his search had been fruitless, and now he was starting to get tired. Slowly, the strange euphoria caused by the potions was fading, until eventually he found himself deep inside a dark dungeon, with not a single spell prepared for casting, and feeling oddly lightheaded. “What…what happened?” he asked. “How did we get here?”

_What’s the matter?_ Softpaws remarked in an acid tone. _Not interested in challenging Sarevok to single combat any longer? What a shame, I would so enjoy seeing you sliced, diced and dismembered after this little trip_. Then she suddenly fell silent, and raised her head, as if listening. _My Kitten! I can sense her again!_

“What? Where?”

_Close! Very close, come with me! Oh, we must hurry!_

The black cat raced off down the dungeon corridor, and Edwin had to struggle to keep up with her. At least he was once again able to move without tripping. Finally, Softpaws stopped outside a heavy wooden door, staring intently at it and making an odd keening noise. _In there. Get her out wizard, please get her out quickly!_

Edwin could feel his fingers trembling as he hurriedly tried key after key in the lock. _Please let one of them fit. Please, please, please…_ Of course he could always drink some more potion and simply bash the door in, but he’d rather avoid that. Finally, the door swung open, and the wizard froze on the threshold, staring in horror and despair at the sight that met him. 

Images fluttered through his mind like frightened, insane birds, disconnected from each other, only reluctantly coming together into a whole. 

FLASH

A slight female form on the floor, hunched over as if in pain. 

FLASH

Blood on the ground, on the dirty straw of the cell. Not that much, a few scattered splotches, but it seemed like a wide river. 

FLASH

Bright red hair, dirty and disheveled, like the petals of a wilting flower, hiding the face.

FLASH

Clothes in disarray, torn in places, pale and vulnerable skin exposed to the cold and damp, here and there marked with dark bruises…scratches as if from fingernails…was that a bitemark? 

FLASH

The look in her blazing golden eyes as she slowly, painfully raised her head, the look of a wounded beast, in pain and fear, prepared to bite anybody who would approach, even those it usually loves. 

Softpaws flew across the floor like a black lightning bolt, leaping at her mistress, frantically nudging and petting her, her mental voice degenerated into a frenetic and distressed maelstrom of emotions. Zaerini blinked, and moved her hand a little, touching the soft fur as if she couldn’t quite believe that the cat was actually there. Then her eyes fixed on the wizard. “Ed…Edwin?” she asked. “Is it really you?” 

The desperate hope in the half-elf’s weakened voice was too much for the Red Wizard, and he practically collapsed onto the floor at her side. Momentarily unable to speak, he gathered the bard’s exhausted form close to him, cradling her head in his lap as he stroked her hair over and over again, unable to stop himself. “I’m sorry,” Edwin said, his voice sounding curiously dead and hollow. “I’m so sorry, so sorry. I came too late, didn’t I? He…he…”

Zaerini shuddered briefly, but then she grasped his hand, squeezing it. “No…he didn’t. Not…not quite. Though he meant to, and the things he did…the things he did were bad enough. I…I can’t talk about it right now.” 

“No, no of course you can’t,” Edwin said, aware that he was babbling. “We need to get you out of here, first of all. No, first of all you need this.” He poured some of the antidote into the half-elf’s mouth, relieved to see her breathing grow a little easier, and some color return to her cheeks. “It’ll be all right, you’ll see,” Edwin went on, hugging the woman in his arms more tightly to him. “We’ll just get out of here, and then…then when you get strong enough I will kill Sarevok for doing this. I swear it.” _Kill him. Mutilate him. Slowly dismember him and scatter his ashes to the four winds._

“No…” the half-elf said, weakly shaking her head. “Not Sarevok. It wasn’t him who did this. It…it was his father.”

For a wild moment Edwin got an image of Bhaal’s avatar, risen from the dead in order to molest his own child. “His father?”

“Yes. Reiltar Anchev. The Iron Throne leader.” Zaerini’s face was still pained, her eyes still filled with shadows behind their normal golden light, but now there was determination in her voice. Determination and burning hatred. “But you will not kill him.”

“I won’t?”

“No, Eddie. Because I will. But first we must get out of here.” 

_Hush!_ Softpaws suddenly said. _I heard something._

Both the bard and the Red Wizard listened intently, and then they heard it as well. The sound of heavy boots pounding down a stone stair, far above them, but rapidly approaching. And now there was the sound of a voice as well, an all too familiar voice, roaring in the distance. 

“Stand aside!” Sarevok’s deep voice boomed above them. “The man who gets in my way will die. I will not be detained. I will go down to my father’s captive, and Sarevok asks no man’s permission.” 

“Is there another way out of here except past him?” Zaerini asked, her face tense and fearful. 

Edwin mutely shook his head. 

“No,” the bard glumly said. “There wouldn’t be, would there? That would be way too simple…”


	62. Candlekeep

**In The Cards 62 – Candlekeep**

_Some people say you cannot go home again. They are wrong, of course. People go home all the time. It’s just that the home you remember may be something very different from the one that awaits you when you get there._

_Excerpt from ‘Ruminations Of A Master Bard’_

Sarevok descended into the dungeon of his father. It was not something he normally did. Killing people who were in your way, that was one thing. But Reiltar enjoyed killing them slowly, making them scream. _Like Mother…no. I will not think of that now. He will pay, soon enough. But I must deal with my Sister first._

It seemed that somebody had been through here before him though. Dead and dying guards lay here and there, doors were broken into pieces and there were even holes punched in the walls in places, as if some clumsy giant had rampaged by. _Perhaps my Sister’s friends aren’t quite as incapacitated as Reiltar believes_ , Sarevok thought. _It certainly does look as if some great warrior has done this_. He smiled grimly to himself. Measuring himself against a powerful foe, steel against steel, muscle against muscle, would be immensely satisfying. He had no doubt that he would win of course, but the challenge would be pleasing. In his mind he envisioned a true warrior, tall and strong, with powerful muscles rippling with every balanced move. Perhaps even an enchanted sword. However, none of the people he had seen in his sister’s company seemed to fit that description. _Still, people change. Or maybe she has picked up somebody new._

One of the few surviving guards had hurriedly told Sarevok in which cell Zaerini might be found, and now the warrior approached it, cautiously on his guard against an attack. The door was wide open and the cell empty. Sarevok stood absolutely still for a few moments, studying the interior. Narrow space, dark and cold. Dirty straw in scattered heaps on the floor. And there, glistening darkly in the torchlight, blood. Drops of blood on the straw, still wet as he bent to touch it. The trail led into the corridor, where he was able to follow it for a short distance before it gradually disappeared. 

_My Sister – for every drop of your divine blood that he spilled, Reiltar will lose a thousand, as well as a limb. Before I slay you, I shall take great pleasure in presenting you with his foul head, still staring blindly into the cold and unfeeling night with its dead eyes._

Methodically, Sarevok searched the dungeon corridors and the remaining cells, wanting to make certain that his sibling did not remain somewhere. There was no sign of her, however. “So be it then, little sister,” Sarevok said, raising his sword in salute. “You have shown yourself capable, as befitting for one of our kind. Soon we will meet, in a cataclysmic battle, one that will shake the very foundation of the Realms. Soon, once the trail of ichor and destruction we trace across the Sword Coast has grown strong enough, according to our nature. Soon…but not before I have tasted the blood of he who would defile your body and mind, pulled his entrails from his steaming open belly while he still squeals like the swine he is, and stuffed his wilting manhood down his throat. So swears Sarevok!” 

Satisfied with this oath, Sarevok nodded proudly to himself, sheathed the Sword of Chaos and walked up the stairs again, his head held high. Even as his body ascended though, his soul kept descending as he contemplated the power and glory awaiting him as the Lord of Murder. It kept descending into the dungeon of his Father, too deeply to see the dwindling light far behind him. 

In the dungeon, silence reigned for a few moments. Then Edwin slowly exhaled. “Your brother,” he said, “is a very, very disturbed individual. (Or to put it more simply, stark raving mad. I must say I sympathize with the sentiment expressed about Reiltar however.)”

Zaerini leaned against the wall, trying to collect herself. Her heart still felt as if it was trying to pound its way out of her chest and her legs were trembling. “I don’t want to think about what would have happened if he’d looked behind the door to my ‘empty’ cell,” she said, pushing at said door so that she, Softpaws and Edwin could emerge from their hiding place. “Good thing he’s not much for subtleties. Still, I’m not sure he would have bought it if not for you sacrificing a little blood to make that false trail. Thank you.”

“I…I would sacrifice more than a little blood in order to keep you alive, Hellkitten,” the wizard said, and then made an intense study of the tips of his boots. “Er…that is…naturally I would try to keep you alive, what with all the wealthy monsters and assorted other enemies your presence seems to attract, and besides my contract clearly stipulates that…”

“Edwin?” the bard said, and the wizard broke off in mid-sentence, looking very nervous. 

“Er…yes?”

“Reiltar…what he did to me…” Rini paused, having to concentrate in order not to let the tears overwhelm her again at the memories. This was not the moment for weeping; that would have to wait for later. I will not tell him the details. It would hurt him too badly. “He hurt me. It won’t go away for a long time, if ever, and he made me feel so dirty. Please…just hold me a moment before we leave this place and take some of the bad things away. Please?”

She thought she heard the wizard sigh faintly as she stepped into his arms, and then he was holding her tightly, as if he were afraid that she would dissolve into mist if he were to let go. “I…I thought I might lose you,” he whispered. 

“You won’t lose me,” the half-elf said, her voice trembling. “I’m right here, see? And I’m not going anywhere.” There was a strange look in his dark eyes then, pleasure and pain in a curious mixture. He said no more, but slowly tilted her chin up, and then she could feel a pair of lips gently touching hers, sparking tender fires in her soul. 

Moments passed. Some more moments passed. Even more moments, and very pleasant moments at that, passed. “That,” Edwin said in reverent voice as he finally had to pull away to breathe, “that…that was…very…very…nice. Yes. Nice.” He paused and cleared his throat. “I must say though, I’m pleased your big brother wasn’t there to watch it.” 

And despite everything, Zaerini had to laugh at that. 

Leaving the Iron Throne building proved surprisingly easy, and Edwin didn’t even have to use his potions again. The whole place seemed to be in some disarray, with panicky people everywhere. 

Due to her hearing, much sharper than that of a human, Rini managed to overhear a few snippets of whispered conversation that sounded very interesting. 

“Yes,” one of the serving maids was telling another. “Master Reiltar came by just now, quite furious about something, and muttering about a gnome of all things! Very odd. Seems he’ll be off on some journey almost at once.”

“Where to?”

“Don’t know. But he said that Master Sarevok would be going with him.” She giggled. “Master Sarevok sure is a handsome one, isn’t he?”

“I suppose. Terrible temper though.” 

“Yes…but all the same…”

The rest of the walk back to the inn passed without incident. Rini was still exhausted though, both from the aftereffects of the poison and from Reiltar’s attentions, something she was trying very hard not to think about. _Not now. Have to be safe first. Time enough then_. She was tired enough that she was forced to lean on Edwin already, almost too tired to walk. 

“I can always take some more of that strength potion I told you about,” the wizard said, sounding rather worried. “Then I could carry you home.” 

“No, no. Softy explained about the side effects. I wouldn’t want you to get hurt.” 

_Besides_ , Softpaws said, there’s a better way. _The wizard doesn’t have to get stronger, not if you can get lighter instead._

_Lighter? What do you…oh. Yes, I see. Yes, my head doesn’t hurt so much now. I think I could do it._

The half-elf concentrated as best she could and willed her body to obey. It hurt, but eventually the power obeyed her, and she slowly shifted into her other form. The red cat looked up at the suddenly towering wizard, her golden eyes dim with exhaustion. When she felt herself gently picked up and cradled in his arms, she was too tired even to purr, as comforting as the hand stroking her soft fur was. _Safe. Feels so nice…safe…warm…_

The comforting voice of her familiar reached her fading mind. _That’s right, kitten. Sleep, you are safe now. Sleep, and heal._

Zaerini slept. In her dreams, the Iron Throne building towered above her, cold and gray as the metal itself, hard and relentless. Then the vision blurred, and she wondered how she could have been so mistaken. It was a large building, yes, but not the Iron Throne compound at all. No, this was Candlekeep. Its familiar spires and walls made her heart ache with longing. 

Then, a bright flash of light, and she was a child once more, a tiny half-elven girl walking at the side of her foster father, tightly clutching his hand. Yet her adult self was somehow also present, riding in the back of the small girl’s head, watching. _This isn’t just a dream_ , Rini thought. _I…I can almost remember this. This happened, or something very much like it did. Funny…I could never remember the day I came to Candlekeep, but I think this must be it._

She looked up at Gorion, lovingly watching that so familiar face. _If only I could warn him…but it’s impossible. This has already happened_. It was startling to notice how lined the wizard’s face was, how gray his beard. _He was old even then…and that was many years ago. How old was he really? He never told me. I loved him so much, but there was so much I didn’t know about him. Not even his last name. Or mine, if I ever had one. My mother would have known…but I never knew my mother either._

Now she was standing outside the doors to the inner keep. Gorion was inside. He was having a very important meeting he had told her, a meeting with Ulraunt, the Keeper of the Tomes. There was shouting coming from behind the closed doors. _They always shouted eventually, wherever we stopped. I remember that now. We would move and move, and then we would stop somewhere. There was a castle I think…and a temple…and…and even an elven city, wasn’t there? High up in the treetops, which was very pretty. And then Gorion would go off to talk with somebody. It was different people, but they were all important people. Then the shouting would start._

The half-elf listened to the raised voices as she let the memories wash over her. _He was telling them the truth, the truth about me. That’s what all the shouting was about. Nobody ever wanted us around, or at least not me. Gorion would always come back looking sad, or angry, or both. And when I asked him what we would do now he always said that we would go somewhere else. Always somewhere else._

The girl traced intricate patterns in the water of one of the courtyard fountains, tuning out the voices. _Will I ever come to a place where they really want me around? Not as a tool, a mercenary, or a ‘hero’ to pull their chestnuts out of the fire? Somewhere where they just want me? Not a Bhaalspawn, not a child of murder. Just me, as I am._

A reflection in the water suddenly attracted her attention. A bird was perched on one of the stone walls behind her, a large raven. Its huge black eyes stared directly into hers, and she kept her gaze on the reflection, not wanting to look directly into those eyes. Its feet were claws, little skeletal claws. 

FOOL, it spoke. HAVE YOU LEARNED NOTHING? A CHILD OF MURDER IS WHAT YOU ARE, AND IT IS ALL YOU ARE. NO MATTER HOW YOU TWIST AND TURN, THE BLOOD WILL RULE YOU IN THE END. WITH EVERY STEP YOU WALK YOU APPROACH ME. 

“No. That is not true! You lie, ‘Father’!” 

DO I? WE SHALL SEE, DAUGHTER. WE SHALL SEE. WAS IT NOT THE THOUGHT OF MURDER THAT RECENTLY SUCCORED YOU, AS YOU FELT YOURSELF BROUGHT LOW? YES, WHAT WAS HIS NAME…REILTAR. YOU HAVE TO HURRY THOUGH, IF YOU WANT TO BEAT YOUR BROTHER TO IT. LITTLE MURDERER…

Then the bird squawked with surprise and disbelief, and clumsily flew off, leaving a few black feathers scattered about. Softpaws stood on the wall where it had been, her eyes glowing with green fire. _He lies, kitten_ , the cat said. _You need control, yes. But that does not mean that you need let others trample you into the dust in order not to become like your sire. You have a right to be angry, even to hate, same as everybody else. If you try to shut those feelings out, you will never heal._

_If I kill Reiltar – will I become like Sarevok?_

_I do not know that, kitten. You are two separate people, of separate lives. You must decide if it is worth the risk or not. But remember – cats eat birds._

Zaerini nodded. Then she heard a noise behind her. The doors swung open, and Ulraunt stepped outside, his face pale with fury. Gorion was walking slightly behind him, looking grim. The Keeper of the Tomes gave the small redheaded girl a look filled with venom as he stormed past her. “You both can stay,” he sneered over his shoulder to Gorion, “but mark my words. That child will be the death of you.” 

Gorion’s image melted and changed, twisting into rotting flesh, dead eyes and showing bones. Then he was Reiltar, the merciless and arrogant face streaked with blood, they eye sockets empty holes. 

Zaerini dropped her eyes to the water again. _Don’t look at him. If you don’t look, he may go away_. In the water she met the eyes of her own reflection, staring back at her. They were black, a solid and uniform black without any white at all around the irises. Alien eyes, inhuman eyes. The eyes of a bird…like a raven. 

The reflection opened its mouth in a small and knowing smile, black eyes glittering with malice. “So it is,” it said. “Like father…like child.” 

Zaerini opened her eyes with a brief yell, hardly noticing at first that she was back in her own form. As she struggled to draw breath, she felt a cool hand on her brow, steadying her. 

“Easy, child,” Jaheira said. The druid was sitting on a chair next to the bed where Zaerini was lying, looking very concerned. “You could hurt yourself if you thrash about like that, and I have already used all of my healing spells upon you.”

With a brief shudder the bard subsided back onto the bed. She was in a bedroom, wearing a clean nightdress, and it felt as if her hair and body had been washed as well. Probably by Jaheira. She could almost have believed that it had all been a bad dream, if not for the bruises around one of her wrists, bruises caused by grasping fingers. The spells must not have been enough to remove those yet. “Jaheira?” she asked. “How…how long have I slept?”

“For two days,” the druid said in a very matter-of-fact voice. “It was not merely your body that was in need of healing, it was your mind as well. You needed to retreat for a while.”

“Two days? But…Sarevok…Reiltar…haven’t they come hunting for us yet?” 

Jaheira shook her head. “They are gone for now, child. Do not fear them.”

“Gone? Where? And where are the others?”

Jaheira snorted quietly. “Edwin and Imoen are asleep. They both refused to rest until you woke up, like the silly infants they are, and when it took you so long to do so, they actually fell asleep right in here, on your floor. We had to drag them out of here. Khalid is downstairs keeping an eye on Yeslick. Once we were all recovered from that poison and had been told of what happened, the dwarf grabbed his hammer and tried to rush off on his own, to smash Reiltar Anchev’s head in. A worthy cause, but suicidal under the circumstances.” She paused for a moment. “Instead, Khalid, Imoen and Edwin accompanied him, while I stayed here with you. However, once they reached the Iron Throne they faced no opposition. The leaders of the organization have left the city urgently, on business. Both Reiltar and Sarevok are among them. However, in Reiltar’s bedroom Imoen managed to find a couple of notes that indicate that they have gone to…”

“Candlekeep. They have gone to Candlekeep.” 

Jaheira blinked with surprise. “Yes. They have. But how did you know?”

“I…I dreamt it.” 

The druid nodded, and as she took the hand of her fellow half-elf her eyes were far more tender than usual. “Child…when Edwin brought you here, I noticed the state of your clothes…and your body. I do not know what Reiltar did, exactly, but I can guess. You may not wish to speak of it, but if you do, I am right here. I think it would help you to do so.” 

Zaerini nodded quietly. Jaheira could handle the ugly truth, she thought, in a way that she wasn’t sure her other friends could. “He hurt me,” she said, “but that wasn’t the worst. The worst was being unable to stop him…” She swallowed hard, and when Jaheira embraced her she allowed herself to cry openly, letting her tears flow along with her words.

_Several days later, outside the library fortress of Candlekeep…_

“Edwin,” Zaerini said, crossing her arms across her chest and giving the wizard a stern look. “Give it up. We need that book, or we won’t be able to get into Candlekeep.” 

“Yes, yes, yes,” the wizard said, not tearing his eyes away from the yellowed pages. “All in good time. I just need to finish this chapter first…”

“That’s what you said two hours ago! Look, I’m really sorry, but we can’t afford to wait any longer, you know that. Give it here.” 

“But…but it’s ‘The History Of The Nether Scrolls’!” Edwin said, pure agony in his voice. “Have you any idea how rare that book is? It…it may even hold clues as to where to find those artifacts of incredible power, and instructions on how to use them. Just a single one of those scrolls could make me powerful beyond my wildest dreams! (And my dreams are pretty wild, I assure you.)” 

Zaerini looked at the ancient volume, with its yellowed pages and strange, spidery writing that seemed to crawl across the pages like a living creature. There were some pictures as well, very unpleasant pictures. She got the impression that they illustrated some of the things that might happen to the unlucky individual who used one of the Nether Scrolls improperly. The person who seemed to have been turned inside out was especially unpleasant to look at. “And during our weeklong trip here from Baldur’s Gate, how much of the text have you managed to decipher?”

“Er…about half a chapter. But I’m getting there, I’m telling you!” 

The gate guard leaning against the tall stone wall surrounding Candlekeep spat in the grass and gave them an impatient look. “Are you going to make up your minds soon?” he drawled. 

“What do you care?” Rini snapped. “It’s not as if you’re going anywhere.” She attempted to snatch the book out of Edwin’s hands, but the wizard clung for it for dear life, trying to tug it back. “Give me that!”

“No! I’m not finished yet!”

“You’ll be finished once I’m done with you unless you GIVE ME THAT BOOK!”

“No!”

“Yes!”

“No!”

“Yes!” 

This scintillating argument might have gone on for quite some time, if not for Yeslick who deftly managed to pry the book away from both the bard and the wizard, causing them both to make a highly undignified landing in the soft grass. “There ye go,” the dwarf said, handing the book to the gate guard. “One rare tome, as promised.” 

Jaheira shook her head despairingly as she watched the two rather embarrassed looking people sitting on the ground. “Children,” she said. “Sometimes I wonder just how old you two really think you are.” 

Zaerini gave the druid a crooked grin as she helped Edwin get to his feet. “Oh, come on, Jaheira. Sometimes it’s fun to fight a little. Right, Eddie?”

“Right,” the wizard admitted, still looking with longing at ‘The History Of The Nether Scrolls’. “I’m sure I could have deciphered it all given the proper time. There is no telling what marvelous and invaluable knowledge it could have provided us with. (Well, at least I got some very interesting hints…)”

“Come on you guys!” Imoen impatiently said. “I can’t wait to see how everybody is! Dreppin and Puffguts and Tethoril and…and everybody. Not Ulraunt though.” 

Zaerini shared her friends’ sentiment exactly. Candlekeep lay before her, her home for so long, but no longer. Still, every stone, every path, every tree was achingly familiar, calling up a thousand memories of childhood games and pranks. She wished she had come back simply to visit, but the truth was very different. Scar and Lord Elhan, one of the Grand Dukes of Baldur’s Gate, had both been very interested to hear about the Iron Throne’s involvement in the iron crisis, and Elhan had been only too happy to supply the adventurers with the rare book necessary to gain entrance to Candlekeep in order to investigate Reiltar’s and Sarevok’s activities further, and hopefully put a stop to them. 

_Reiltar…I will kill him for what he did. Preferably painfully_. She was feeling better now, at least she didn’t have nightmares every night, and her friends were a great comfort, but still there would be times when the memories would grip her and make her feel that same icy terror she had felt in the dungeon. She had a feeling that she wouldn’t begin to heal properly until the Iron Throne leader lay dead. 

But for now, there was Candlekeep. Zaerini walked across the sunlit courtyard. It was strange…it looked the same as it always had, but at the same time…much smaller. Tempted as she was to pay a visit to Winthrop at the inn, and some other people she knew, she decided to head for the library at once. If Sarevok and Reiltar were there, she was certain they were up to no good. 

As always, the library filled her with awe. The air was cool after the sunshine outside, and slightly dusty. There was the whispering of quiet voices, and of turning pages, and that special smell of thousands of old books. The large statue of the Prophet Alaundo gazed enigmatically at her from his spot near the front doors. _He saw the coming of the Children of Bhaal. He saw me. I wonder…what did he think about it all? It would probably be a good idea to read those prophecies properly, if I get the chance while I’m here._

“This certainly is a fascinating place,” Edwin said, his eyes glowing with excitement at the sight of all the bookshelves dwindling off into the seemingly endless distance. “Under other, more pleasant circumstances, I wouldn’t mind staying here for some time to do a little research.” 

“I-it is v-v-very peaceful,” Khalid said, smiling. “I th-think that w-was why Gorion picked it as a g-good spot to raise a child in. I always l-liked it myself.”

“There were other possible places though, weren’t there?” Rini asked, noticing the uncomfortable look that came into Khalid’s eyes as she did so. “I dreamt about it. Many places, and none of them would have me. Like that temple…or the elven city.”

“Hmpf,” Jaheira said. “That just goes to show how wise some of those full elves can be. Full of herself that is what she is, the all mighty Queen Ellesime.” 

“Ellesime? She’s the elf queen who’s supposedly a daughter of one of the elven gods, isn’t she?”

Jaheira nodded. “Yes,” she said in a low voice. “I believe Gorion thought that such a benign divine influence might help counteract…the other one.” Her green eyes flared with sudden anger. “But the woman would not hear of it. No tainted child, particularly not a ‘mere half-breed’ could be suffered to live inside her precious city. Gorion was livid.” 

Khalid was trying to attract his wife’s attention by tugging at her sleeve. “J-jaheira, she r-really doesn’t n-n-need to know that.” 

The druid actually looked chagrined for a moment. “I am sorry, child,” she said. “I did not mean to hurt your feelings by bringing that up.”

Zaerini sighed. “That’s all right,” she said. “It’s not your fault, and I really prefer knowing the truth anyway. At least this way I know I needn’t bother with being polite to the woman if I ever should have the misfortune to meet her. Quite the opposite, in fact. Now, let’s see if we can find…”

At that moment the bard was interrupted by a kindly old voice calling her name. Karan, the old monk who had been her tutor in childhood, came tottering across the floor towards her, a broad smile on his wrinkled face, his plain robe hanging loosely on his stick-like body. He was carrying a number of scrolls beneath one arm. “Karan!” Zaerini called out, embracing the old man. “It’s so good to see you!” 

“Dear little Zaerini,” Karan said, fondly ruffling her hair. “It has been far too long. I heard of Gorion, and we all feared the worst. I am so happy to see you alive and well. And little Imoen too – whatever have you done to your hair, child?”

“Well,” Imoen said, “you see, it all started when I met this really cute guy…” 

“We’ll save that for later,” Rini hastily interjected, knowing how Imoen would get when she’d started onto the subject of Adahn’s many positive traits and physical perfection. She hurried to introduce her other friends instead. “And this is Karan,” she concluded. “He was my tutor; I really don’t see how he ever put up with me.”

“With some difficulty I am sure,” Edwin said. “Giving your tendency to deprive other people of their reading material.” He did look a little distant though, as if he had suddenly been unpleasantly reminded of something. 

“It was no great chore,” Karan said with a smile. “What mischief she caused was mostly harmless – though Ulraunt saw things differently.” 

“Did he ever,” Imoen snorted. “Old stick-in-the-mud that he was. Always nagging about one thing or the other. So what if we accidentally tipped those bookshelves over? Nobody got hurt or anything. And the thing with the beetles was fun!” 

“Tell me Karan,” Zaerini said, “has there been anything odd happening at the library recently. Anything out of the ordinary? Anything strange?”

Karan thought for a moment. “Strange? Why yes, that is just the word I would have used for that Koveras fellow. He was right here beside me, taking Alaundo's prophecies from their place on the shelf and reading them. I could hear his voice, recognize the Seer's words upon his quiet breath, but when I turned to steal a glance at him from the corner of my eye, it was the strangest thing...his eyes were closed and he was reciting page after page, as if from memory! He heard your footsteps, it seems, and wandered off... I was just returning the prophecies to their rightful place, here. It might be wise to take a look. If this Koveras is dangerous, though, I'm afraid I'm too old and bookish to be more than a hindrance.”

“I see…” Rini said, her golden eyes glittering with a mixture of amusement and annoyance. “Koveras, is it? Thank you, Karan, you have been a great help.” 

The old man nodded kindly and walked off, as the redheaded half-elf took the scrolls he had given her and skimmed through them. She didn’t have the time to read them all through, they were far too lengthy for that, but certain phrases seemed to leap out at her, burning themselves into her mind. 

_During the days of the Avatars, the Lord of Murder will spawn a score of mortal progeny. These offspring will be aligned good and evil, but chaos will flow through them all. When the Beast's bastard children come of age, they will bring havoc to the lands of the Sword Coast. One of these children must rise above the rest and claim their father's legacy. This inheritor will shape the history of the Sword Coast for centuries to come....._

That certainly seemed to fit.

_I don’t want to bring havoc to any land, not really. I can’t help who I am. Sarevok…no wonder he’s fascinated by this. He thinks he is the one mentioned in the prophecy, the one fated to rise above the others. The others…how many of us are there? Do I even want to know that?_

She kept reading. 

_The spawn of the Lord of Murder are fated to come into their inheritance through bloodshed and misery. It is the hope of their father that only one shall remain alive to inherit his legacy. I foresee that the children of Bhaal shall kill each other in a bloody massacre._

That didn’t sound very nice either, in fact it was even worse than the first bit. 

_It certainly explains why Sarevok is so keen on seeing me dead though. He thinks it will help him ascend faster. But somehow, I don’t think Bhaal can be trusted to keep his part of the deal._

And here was another interesting bit. 

_Though their nature is that of destruction and warring amongst each other, there is an alternate path to be taken. When the dead walk the world, and the innocent willingly sacrifice for the guilty, then shall three of the Children stand together, and face the one who would destroy them all._

“Well,” Zaerini said, rolling the scrolls up again. “That was all just about as cryptic as might be expected. But it seems as if there’s somebody hanging around here who might be able to explain it all. And even if not, I’d love to have a word with him.”

“Who?” Yeslick asked. 

“Why, a certain ‘Koveras’ of course!” The bard was grinning widely by now. “I can’t believe he seriously didn’t expect anybody to get that alias…”

Zaerini quietly slipped between the tall bookcases of the Candlekeep library, hardly able to keep from laughing. What she intended to do was dangerous, but not as dangerous as it would have been in any other place, and it was also enormously entertaining. Finally, she spotted the person whom she was searching for. 

At the end of an intersecting aisle a huge man was standing, pretending to be reading a scroll. He was obviously trying to masquerade as a monk. It might even have worked, if not for the fact that the simple robe he was wearing reached only slightly below his knees, displaying a pair of powerful and muscular legs to the world in a very un-monkly fashion. He was also wearing iron-plated boots, rather than the sandals more commonly associated with the profession. 

When the man spotted Zaerini looking at him he startled violently and jerked his head up, momentarily displaying a pair of brightly glowing eyes from within his hood. Then, he sneaked away. Sadly, his idea of sneaking constituted of very rapidly and very loudly stomping off down the aisle, his back ramrod-straight and his head held high, making the books tremble slightly in their shelves with every step he took. 

“Wasn’t that…” Imoen said, her eyes very wide. 

Rini nodded. “None other. Let’s go talk to him, shall we?” 

“T-talk to h-h-him?” Khalid protested, his teeth chattering. “B-b-but…”

“It’s all right. He won’t dare try anything here, not beneath the noses of the Watchers.” The redheaded half-elf shook her head. “Dangerous killer that he is, it really is rather sweet watching him try to make himself inconspicuous, don’t you think? Like seeing an elephant trying to do back flips…” 

“Sweet?” Edwin said, sounding incredulous. “Not quite the word I would have associated with him. Dangerous, murderous, insane, bloodthirsty and large. But not sweet.” 

The bard shrugged. “Any way, I want to talk to him. Better hurry so he doesn’t get away.” She grinned at her friends. “Come on! Don’t the rest of you want to hunt _him_ for a change?” 

“YEAH!” Imoen laughed. “Let’s get him!”

Jaheira nodded to herself. “Perhaps the idea has some merit…as you say, he really cannot do anything here.” 

“Might be he can tell us where Reiltar is,” Yeslick growled, tapping his hammer against his palm. 

“True enough,” Edwin agreed. “Or we may be able to pry some other important information out of him. (Preferably with a crowbar, but I am not picky. A dull knife will do.)” 

“Then let’s go!” Zaerini said, before running off after the ‘monk’. It wasn’t difficult to catch up with him, considering how he towered above the tops of the bookcases. Besides, she knew this library. She and Imoen had played catch here plenty of times, one of those times having led up to the infamous Toppling Incident. It had taken them three days to pick all the books up under Ulraunt’s baleful eyes. So, she knew just where to turn in order to get where she wanted to. Dodging between two tall stacks of books, her friends hot on her heels, she suddenly found herself face to face with the tall man she’d been chasing. 

“Hi!” she said in a bright voice, putting on her most innocent face. “You’re new, aren’t you? I thought I knew all the monks here, but I don’t recognize you.” 

“Um…YES!” The man spoke in a deep and booming voice more readily associated with a battlefield than with a library. “I…I am new. Very new. It…it is perfectly natural that you have never seen me before. Perfectly. It happens all the time, people overlooking me.”

“Riiiight…” Rini said, as she slowly let her eyes slide from the large feet in their metal boots, up along the muscular legs visible beneath the hem of the robe, across the powerful body that seemed to be trying to burst the fabric, and all the way up to the golden glowing eyes clearly visible despite the raised hood. “I bet you just fade into the crowd, don’t you?”

_That_ , Softpaws remarked, _would have to be a very strange crowd, Kitten. One from the Abyss…maybe._

“I do not believe you ever told us your name,” Jaheira said, giving the tall man a grim smile. “You do have a name, I assume?”

The large man drew himself up to his full height at this, his voice swelling with indignation. “Of course, I have a name, you pathetic sniveling maggot!” he thundered. “One you are unworthy of uttering, even as you grovel in the dust to worship at my feet! One that shall be written across the pages of the book that is the Realms, written in words of BLOOD!” 

“You know,” Imoen said with a small smirk, “you don’t sound much like a humble monk.” 

The man interrupted himself in mid-rant. “What? No! I mean YES! Certainly I am a humble monk, the humblest you will ever meet. I am the humblest in the world; people travel from all over the world to study humility with me, the Master. I am so humble that…WHY ARE YOU ALL SNICKERING LIKE THAT?!” 

“Oh…no reason,” Rini said, wiping the tears from her eyes. “No reason at all. Sooo…what is your name? You still haven’t told us, you know.” 

The ‘monk’ cleared his throat. “Ah. Yes. My name. I have a name, you know. Of course I do. And it is a good name, a proud name, a strong name, a name to be carried across the world on wings of song, a…”

“A humble name?” 

“Yes! Precisely!”

“So, what is it?”

The ‘monk’ was perspiring heavily by now, and his enormous, callused hands were nervously trying to tug his robe down across his knees, without much success. “It’s…it’s…er…Koveras! Yes! That is my name. Koveras, the humble monk.” 

“Koveras?” Edwin said, raising an eyebrow. “Are you actually being serious? (Next, we’ll probably encounter an elderly mage in a stupid pointy hat, calling himself Retsnimle or something equally preposterous.)” 

The golden eyes flared up inside the hood and one heavily muscled arm twitched toward the hilt of a sword not currently present. “YOU DARE DOUBT MY WORD AND MAKE FUN OF MY NAME? FOR THAT I SHALL RIP YOUR STILL BEATING HEART OUT AND SQUEEZE THE HOT BLOOD FROM IT, EVEN AS I USE YOUR DECAPITATED HEAD AS A FOOTSTOOL! AND I WILL PLACE IT ON A SPIKE, TO CARRY BEFORE ME AS I STRIDE OUT TO CONQUER THE WORLD!” Then he twitched, as if he had suddenly remembered something. “That is…I mean…it is a humble name.” He was gritting his teeth as he spoke. “Befitting a humble monk. Yes. That is what I meant to say all along.” 

“Of course you did,” Zaerini said in a soothing voice, putting her hand on one of the massive arms. “Of course you did. Say, maybe you can do me a favor?”

“I do no favors for lowly mortals! Your impertinence in asking that will earn you the sharp edge of my…” Koveras twitched again and wrung his hands in a strained gesture. “I mean…yes…of course. As befitting a…a humble monk, such as myself. Because that is who I am. A humble monk. Koveras. Not Sar…anybody else. Koveras. Yes. That’s right.” 

“Sure, Koveras. Whatever you say. Anyway, I was just thinking…I’ve heard that my brother may have traveled to Candlekeep recently.” 

“Your…ah…brother?”

“Yes. My brother.” Zaerini made her smile as charming as she knew how. “Big, tall fellow…almost as tall as you, I’d say.”

”ALMOST?”

“What am I saying…I’m sure you’re both taller and stronger. No insult intended, I’m sure.”

Koveras was literally grinding his teeth by now. “What…about…him?”

“Well, as I said, he’s big and tall. Has a deep voice, eerie glowing eyes and a bad attitude.” The bard put her finger across her lips as if she had just thought of something. “Oh, and he wears this atrociously ugly spiky armor. Really frightful, I don’t know why he’d want to look like a rabid porcupine, but there you have it.” 

“IT ISN’T UGLY! IT IS TASTEFUL, IMPRESSIVE AND EXTREMELY INTIMIDATING! I WILL SLAY YOU FOR THAT SLIGHT AND…”

“Whatever for?” Edwin remarked with a sly grin. “She wasn’t talking about you, after all…Koveras.” 

The large man visibly deflated. “I…she…no. Of course not.” 

“So,” Rini said, patting him on the hand. “If you should happen to run into my brother – the large guy wearing ugly spikes, remember? Just tell him that I’m not really looking for a fight with him. Not at the moment anyway. But I’m here on business of my own, and he’d better not interfere if he knows what’s good for him. And he’d better not cause a scene in the hallways either, not unless he wants to get in trouble with the Watchers. Can you remember all of that? Good. Off you go then.” The half-elf waved encouragingly as Koveras stumbled off along the hallway, looking slightly dazed, as if he wasn’t entirely sure what had just taken place. “Oh, and Koveras?” she suddenly shouted. 

No reaction. 

“Koveras!”

He still didn’t stop. 

“KOVERAS!” 

Finally, the man in the monk’s robe reacted to the sound of his own name. “What?” he said, sounding more than a little wary.

“Tell my brother that I will do as he asks. When the time is right, I _will_ come out and play. And thank him from me for what he said in the dungeon. I appreciate the thought. Well, except for the part about killing me.” Zaerini blew a kiss at the large man. “Run along now. Wouldn’t want to keep you from your monkly duties…” 

It was some later that Sarevok stumbled into Winski’s quarters, feeling rather as if somebody had just turned him upside down and spun him around like a top. He had a small but nagging doubt that his encounter with his sister hadn’t gone all that well and felt the need to talk it over with his mentor. 

Winski stood by the window, and as Sarevok entered the room he turned around, a highly amused look on his gaunt face. “Well!” he said. “That was certainly an entertaining performance. My compliments for managing to make a spectacle of yourself in such a novel manner, I could probably have charged people for it if only I had been able to record the visions in my Crystal Ball for posterity. ‘Faerun’s Funniest Mishaps’ I could call it.” 

“Actually,” Sarevok said in a haughty voice, “it all went excellently.” 

“Is that so?” the wizard said, pursing his lips. “How odd. You must have been spending the past minutes in a different dimension than I, then.” He shook his head. “Really, I don’t know what possessed you. I told you that that so-called disguise wouldn’t fool anybody, didn’t I? And even if it had been a proper size, you still aren’t cut out for spying. Spying requires an admirable character trait known as ‘discretion’; you ought to try acquiring it some time. Who knows, you might even like it.” 

“I am a natural spy!” Sarevok protested. “She had no idea whatsoever who I was. If she had, I’m sure she would have betrayed herself. It was close a couple of times, but I kept my cool, despite the fact that she almost seemed to be deliberately trying to annoy me.” 

Winski slowly put his head in his hands. “Why me?” he asked the universe in general in a despairing, hollow voice.


	63. Heart’s Fire, Heart’s Winter

**In The Cards 63 – Heart’s Fire, Heart’s Winter**

_Though not as readily apparent as a physical wound, a wound to the spirit can be just as deadly – and by far more painful. Take care how you inflict them, that sort of kill tends not to be a clean one._

_Excerpt from ‘Interview With An Assassin’_

There was something deeply rotten about Candlekeep. Zaerini hadn’t noticed it at first, being both pleased and excited about getting to see her childhood home again, as well as tense about confronting Reiltar. She had thought it was simple apprehension that made her jump at shadows. But that was before she encountered one of the monks, a man she had known since childhood, and he didn’t recognize her face. When she confronted him about it, the man’s face had suddenly rippled and…changed. Changed into the gray, anonymous, silver-eyed visage of a doppelganger. 

There had been others since then. Familiar faces melting away before her eyes, twisting into alien creatures seeking her life. She had only been back in Candlekeep for a few hours, methodically searching the library for Reiltar and his cohorts, and already she had discovered three doppelgangers. How many more might there be, hidden away for some sinister purpose? She had no way of knowing. All she could do was to go on. 

Going on might be more difficult than she had expected though. The business with Sarevok had distracted her. _Dear Big Brother. Dangerous and murderous maniac that he is, at least he only wants to kill me in order to become a god. Perfectly straightforward. But Reiltar…_

She shuddered. She was coping with what had happened in the dungeon, or so she had told her friends. Oh yes. Coping. Sometimes she could even be almost like her old self. That didn’t mean that the other emotions had left her. Fear. Pain. Humiliation. Utter, devastating and crippling helplessness. That had been the worst part. 

Sometimes she still dreamed about it at night, dark and terrible dreams that made her wake up drenched with sweat, her cheeks wet with tears. Sometimes the dreams mimicked the Iron Throne leader’s actions exactly. Sometimes they went further, exploring what would have happened had he not been interrupted. Sometimes she died in those dreams. Sometimes she only wished that she had. 

The bard looked at the double doors in front of her, shivering violently. Reiltar was in there, or so she had been told by one of the Keep’s servants, in a meeting with some other strangers. 

_Kitten, you don’t have to do this_ , Softpaws said. _Let one of the others handle it._

_No. I need to see…I need to know that he is really there. I need to see for myself_. An invisibility spell hid her from sight as she slowly, hesitantly, pulled the doors open. 

There were four men sitting around a large table covered with important-looking documents. Three of them she didn’t recognize. The fourth she recognized only too well. Reiltar Anchev looked every bit the successful businessman, with his expensive and well-cut dark clothes, the golden chain around his throat, the ruby signet ring on his finger. His iron-gray hair was neat, his regular face relaxed. He turned his head to laugh at something one of the other men was saying, and as his eyes swept past the invisible half-elf she marveled at how ordinary he looked. How…normal. But the Devil was there, hidden beneath that pleasant façade. She had seen the cruelty in his eyes, felt his cold and merciless touch. She knew. 

_But…who would believe me, if I told? He looks so respectable. He doesn’t even know I’m here. How dare he look so ordinary, as if he was just like anybody else? How dare he sit there, calmly chatting as if he was a man and not a monster? As if what he did to me made no difference, was of no importance? How DARE HE!_

Then Softpaws was there, a steadying presence against her mind. _Kitten, not now! Not like this. You need to be calm first, and then you may hunt._

_Yes…yes, I know. Besides, an open fight in here would only bring the Watchers. I…I guess I need to talk this over with the others._

A short while later, the adventurers had retreated into a secluded corner of the library and having a quiet argument. “No,” Jaheira adamantly said. “I wish him dead as much as any of the rest of you, but you cannot simply start to kill people in the middle of Candlekeep. The Watchers are diligent, and they are many. They would not tolerate such actions.”

“You can’t mean to simply let him be!” Edwin hissed. “If you are too cowardly to deal with him, _Harper_ , then I will do so myself. I tell you, that man will die. (Preferably slowly, and extremely painfully.)”

“And I tell you, _Red Wizard_ , that I have no wish to see any of us arrested!” Jaheira snarled, anger flashing in her green eyes. “Am I the only one who has some sense here? The solution is simple. We must accuse him before the proper authorities.” 

“That nay be a bad idea,” Yeslick admitted, nodding. “Much as I would like to slay Reiltar meself, it be far better if we can do things properly.” 

“Properly?” Imoen almost screamed. “D’you call what he did to Rini proper? He hurt my _sister_!”

Khalid was trying to say something but was stammering so badly that no proper words emerged. 

“Please,” Zaerini said in a quiet voice that made her friends settle down. “Don’t fight. This should be my decision, don’t you think?” She thought for a moment. “Jaheira, we will try your way. I will take this to the proper authorities, as you ask. And if that doesn’t work, then I will make…other arrangements.” 

The chambers of Ulraunt, the Keeper of the Tomes and leader of Candlekeep, were large and luxurious, with large windows, beautiful antique furniture and expensive ornaments. Still, they were also cold and unwelcoming, and every chair was so uncomfortable that it was obvious that the owner of the office didn’t wish for any guest to remain seated long – if indeed they were permitted to sit down at all. The desk was a vast expanse of dark and polished wood, and there were no papers whatsoever marring its smooth surface. Ulraunt himself was seated behind the desk, looking down his narrow nose at the half-elf in front of him. He was a tall wizard with impressive-looking snowy white hair and long beard, and a highly proud and aristocratic face. He certainly looked like a powerful wizard ought to. 

“And why,” Ulraunt slowly said with a small sneer, “should I believe in you – Bhaalspawn?” He spat out the last word with clearly displayed contempt. 

“How about because I’m telling the truth?” Rini asked, pretending a calm she didn’t feel at all. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Yeslick, the one of her companions she had allowed to accompany her, stare at the wizard with outrage painted all over his kind and honest face. 

“The truth?” Ulraunt snorted, a disdainful look in his cold eyes. “You? Do not make me laugh. You were always a disruptive element, even as a child. Chaotic. Disorderly. Not surprising, considering your vile nature. That you know the truth of your heritage, as you say, makes what I have to say all the easier. Had Gorion been as wise a man as some people thought him, he would have drowned you himself before you managed to cause his death, and the Realms would have been a far more functional place. This business about doppelgangers and conspiracies is utterly preposterous. You are probably just trying to divert my attention away from watching you and making sure you do not disturb the peace and the books.” 

Rini was clenching her fists beneath the seat of her chair, willing her fixed smile to stay on her face, though by now it had become more of a snarl. “And Reiltar?” she said, surprised at how calm her voice sounded, despite the red mist floating in front of her eyes. 

“What of him? He is a respectable businessman.” Ulraunt scoffed. “Certainly by far more trustworthy than some…monstrous creature, the foul offspring of Murder. I know you. Always thought yourself too good for everybody else here, didn’t you? Never wanted to fit in!”

“That,” Rini hissed, “was because people like you wouldn’t _let_ me.” The flames were dancing higher in her heart now, she wanted nothing more than to jump across the table and strangle the old wizard to death. _If I were as strong as Sarevok, I would. I really would. But I’m not, so I have to do things differently. Besides, he’s not the one I really want._

Yeslick was making small and sputtering sounds deep in his throat by now, and suddenly he leapt to his feet, his face red with fury. “Have ye nay been listening, spell-slinger?” he roared. “That…that _sargh calass_ meant to rape her! He even got as far as…” 

Ulraunt sneered again. “Please,” he said. “This really is a pointless discussion. Even if he had done as you say – which I do not believe in the slightest – I am certain he had his reasons.” 

“Reasons?”

“Well, surely it cannot have escaped your notice, my good dwarf, that this little Bhaalspawn is not exactly a…a nice and proper girl? Rape doesn’t happen to nice girls, you know. What with the brazen way she swaggers around, constantly defying older and wiser people, proudly putting her body on display? She probably encouraged him. Under such circumstances, it would be only natural for a gentleman to make a small mistake…”

CRACK! Yeslick’s war-hammer came down hard, and Ulraunt sprang back, white-faced, as his lovely desk cracked in two halves. “There be no mistake to speak of,” the dwarf growled. “And though yer speak shows that yer likely t’make that sort o’ mistake yerself, I warn ye against it. I do believe ye long-limbs have laws against molesting lasses, uncivilized as ye be.” 

“O-o-out of here!” the elderly wizard cried, his trembling finger pointing at the door! “Get out! Or I will have you arrested! You will not be allowed to disturb the peace of Candlekeep any further.” 

“Aye,” Yeslick said. “We be goin’.” He tossed a bag of gold on the broken piece of furniture. “Fer a new desk. Come along then, lass.” 

As Zaerini followed the still violently grumbling dwarf out the door she gave the still twitching Ulraunt a look across her shoulder. “He can be rather hot-tempered at times,” she said. “And you know, I don’t think he likes you very much.” She paused. “Come to think of it, I don’t really like you either.” 

A short while later, the conversation that was taking place had taken on the nature of a war-council. Having had the important bits of the conversation with Ulraunt repeated back at her, with much swearing on Yeslick’s part, Jaheira had finally been convinced that the Keeper would take no action against Reiltar. “And Tethoril?” she said. 

Imoen shook her head. “Tethoril is really sweet and all, but he won’t move against Ulraunt openly to arrest Reiltar. That just won’t happen.” 

_But it won’t be necessary_ , Rini thought, a dreamy half-smile on her face. _Not necessary at all. I knew Ulraunt would never listen, he despises me far too much. I only did that so Jaheira couldn’t say I hadn’t tried. Well, now I’ve tried. And now…now I will go hunting_. “Don’t worry,” she calmly said. “I know exactly what to do, I’ve worked it all out. I will deal with Reiltar myself. None of the rest of you need get involved.” She laughed quietly. “In fact…I’ll hardly even need to get involved myself.” 

“P-please,” Khalid pleaded, his brown eyes filled with concern, “don’t d-do anything r-r-reckless. We are your f-friends, we all wish to h-help.” 

The bard shook her head violently, making her red curls dance about her face. “No,” she stubbornly stated. “Thanks…but I need to do this alone. I really do.” 

Imoen bit her lip. “If…if you really feel that way, sis…then I’m with you. You know that. You do what you have to do.” 

“Thanks, Immy.” The redhead smiled faintly. “I won’t tell any of the rest of you guys about it. I don’t want you involved. You just go down in the library, and make sure you keep visible all the time. That way, if anything should go wrong, nobody will be able to say you had anything to do with it. Not that anything will go wrong.” 

One long and rather furious debate later, she still hadn’t changed her mind. Even Yeslick had admitted that it didn’t seem likely that Ulraunt would put Reiltar on trial, and the officials in Baldur’s Gate would certainly never do so, considering how powerful both the man himself and the Iron Throne were. “Very well,” Jaheira sighed in defeat. “This is your decision. I will abide by it. I do understand…it is just…”

“I know. You don’t want me to get hurt, and I appreciate that. But I won’t.” _No, I won’t_ , Rini thought. _If anything, I’ll get healed._

As the others reluctantly filed out of the room, Edwin lingered behind. “I…need to have a word with you, alone,” he said, looking very serious. Once the door had closed, he took her hand, frowning a little. “Are you really certain about this?” he asked. 

Rini nodded. “Yes,” she said. She smiled, and her golden eyes glittered alarmingly in the half-light. “I really am.” She paused, thinking. “You know, I’ve killed often enough in battle. I suppose carrying out an assassination isn’t all that different really. It just takes more planning, and a cooler head.” Then she looked momentarily worried. “You…won’t dislike me because of it, will you?”

The Red Wizard got a very strange look on his face then, half pleasure and half pain, and then he took her into his arms. “Hellkitten,” he murmured into her hair, “for a woman reasonably intelligent as compared to all these other chimps, you really can be remarkably ignorant at times. According to Thayvian custom, you are behaving entirely properly. (And…and I dare say that not only I but one whose opinion I greatly respect would salute you for it.)” 

“Oh.” The half-elf felt a warm glow spread through her body, and for once she felt strangely at a loss for words. “Thank you…Dread Wizard. That really means a lot.” Then she winked at the wizard. “Want to see what I plan to use?” Without waiting for an answer, she bent to retrieve her pack, and withdrew a single, very ordinary-looking item from it. “Remember when I got this? I think it will work out perfectly, don’t you?”

Edwin’s eyes were alight with admiration. “Oh yes,” he said. “This should prove to be very entertaining.” 

_Somewhat later…_

The long and tapering neck of the glass bottle was slick between her fingers, cold and soothing. Zaerini stroked it absent-mindedly, letting the sensation calm her nerves. This was it. Once she went through with it there would be no turning back. She would have deliberately killed somebody, coldly, calmly, and well planned in advance. 

_And I don’t care. Maybe it will bring me closer to my sire, maybe it will give him more leverage against me…but this time I don’t care. I won’t let this go. Not after what Reiltar did to me, and…and what he almost did. I will have my revenge._

The half-elf listened inward, almost expecting the mocking voice of Bhaal to chime in, but it was silent. Expectant? Satisfied? She could not tell. Finally, she shrugged. It made no difference. Let her sire watch, if that was what he wanted. _People keep calling me Child of Murder. Perhaps it’s time I made good use of what talent I may have inherited._

With a small and predatory smile, the redheaded half-elf once again cast the spell to make herself invisible. Just before she disappeared from sight, an observer might have been able to see her golden eyes flaring up brightly, burning like hungry fires. 

It would have been useful to have Imoen’s skill in making herself inconspicuous, but for this mission the spell would work excellently. After all, she had no intention of outright attacking Reiltar and breaking the spell. No, what she was planning was far more insidious than that. 

The door was before her now, the door to the small dining room where she had learnt that Reiltar would be having dinner this evening. Alone, just as she wanted him to be. The fate she intended for him she wouldn’t wish on anybody else, including Sarevok. 

_No, certainly not on my brother. Despite everything…despite even Gorion. The voice of our sire has seduced him utterly, and it is Bhaal who pulls his strings and guides his steps, though he knows it not. And yet…even as filled with the essence of Bhaal as he is, he would never have acted as Reiltar did._

Rini bit her lower lip thoughtfully as she considered her brother. _Perhaps…perhaps I could somehow reach him? Make him see the truth? I want to try. Not just because of that dream I had, the one that said that one day I would need him by my side if I would live. But for his sake as well. He has lost his way, and he can’t find his way back on his own. But there is a connection between us, and it’s getting stronger, I can feel it. If I could guide him and bring him back…then maybe I could know my brother as he could be, without the madness._

Reiltar would have to come first though, before she could even consider Sarevok. The continued existence of the Iron Throne leader was a blight on her soul, a dark cloud covering the sun, a sticky fingerprint on her very essence. He must die. 

_Steady, Kitten_ , Softpaws warned. The black cat was silently gliding along her invisible mistress, partially invisible herself in the deep shadows of the corridor. _You must keep your head cool for the hunt to succeed. This is the cat way. Softly and silently, and then the quick leap and the sharp teeth and claws, before the prey even guesses you’re there._

_I know, Softy. Don’t worry. I won’t do anything rash. But I won’t stain my claws with this one’s blood. I’ll do it just a little bit differently._

The dining hall was fairly small, meant for no more than ten people at the most. As Rini quietly slipped through the doorway she noticed that the sun had set outside. Already the lingering red traces on the sky were being swept away by the deep blue twilight. 

There were bookcases in here as well of course, as in every room in Candlekeep, tall ones filled with thick leather-bound volumes, all of which seemed to be detailing the history of the Drow. 

_I think Viconia would appreciate my plan_ , Zaerini thought. _She would know about vengeance. I hope she is all right, wherever she may be._

The table had already been set. Fine porcelain and silver cutlery, lit candelabras and fresh flowers. The food hadn’t arrived yet of course, but the wine had. A bottle of fine Amnian red, as yet uncorked. _Too bad, Reiltar. I still know people in the kitchens, and they told me about your habits, your precautions. So cautious, careful not to let an assassin slip poison into your drink. Always uncorking it yourself, and then staying in the same room as it airs. It won’t help you; you know. Not this time. Nor will any antidote you may have prepared yourself with._

Zaerini quietly walked over to the table, picking up the wine bottle and sliding it into her pack. Then she put her own bottle down on the table, in exactly the same place. She was quite proud of the forgery she had done on the cork, making it appear as if it had never been removed. 

_Now, Kitten_ , Softpaws said. _He comes. Are you prepared?_

_Yes. I am ready. Now, the hunt is on._

The invisible woman strolled over to a secluded spot by the wall and leaned against it, arms crossed, watching. When Reiltar entered the room, she felt her breathing grow a little heavier, a little more labored. _The Devil comes. The Devil, The Devil, The Devil._

The man looked a bit tired but pleased with himself just the same. Yawning, he closed the door and crossed the floor, his footsteps echoing like thunder in the half-elf’s sensitive ears, his cold eyes staring blankly through her, unaware of her presence. 

The old fear leapt into her heart again as she met that gaze, but it was quickly subdued. Rage was much stronger, rage having been kept bottled up in order to be able to act, to speak, to think. Now it wanted out. But there was another emotion as well. A slow, dark thrill. _Yes. The prey. He is mine. All mine_. Pleasure, cold anticipation bubbling slowly through her veins. Not like the heady rush of battle this. This was death guided by her mind and her hands, like she was riding a huge black horse that responded instantly to her every touch and movement. There were only three things that mattered. Herself, the prey, and the plan. 

Now, Reiltar was lifting the bottle, studying the label, smiling to himself. _Yes. Smile, Devil. It is a good year. A very good year._

Now, Reiltar took a corkscrew, and started pulling at the cork. It was clearly causing him some effort; he was grunting a little. _He…he sounded like that when he…when he…_

Hands. There had been hands all over her, touching, fondling, nails scratching. Lips kissing, sucking, slobbering tongue licking. Teeth, biting. Harsh voice, speaking in short grunts. Obscenities. Taunts. 

_Little bitch. Whore. Half-breed slut. Not so haughty now, are you? Are you? Are you? Areyouareyouareyouareyou? Looks like we found you a proper place. This is all you’re good for, you know. A good…a really good….really good…_

_NO!_ With an effort of will she forced her breathing to calm before it grew so loud that the Devil could hear it. She could feel the cold sweat running in rivulets down her back, across her forehead, stinging her eyes. Or was that tears? 

_No. I have wept enough for his sake. I will do it no more._

And indeed, the tears, if such they were, dried up. _Now, I hunt. Now…I kill. Watch what I am good for then, Devil. Watch the Child of Murder._

The cork came out of the bottle with a soft, popping noise. Reiltar moved to set it down – and then he stopped, mid-movement. A dark red cloud of smoke was rapidly pouring out of the bottle with a loud hiss, growing, swelling, finally coalescing into a humanoid shape. It looked almost like a man, a bare-chested and dark-skinned man wearing baggy trousers and a red turban. His smile was wide and malicious, and his eyes glowed a deep and sullen red as he watched the human who had released him. 

“You!” he said. “You have released the mighty Kahrk, and I have made a sacred oath about what will happen to he who does so. The time has come for me to keep it, and then I will be free!” 

“B-but…” Reiltar stammered. “No!” Kahrk chuckled darkly, lifting the Iron Throne leader easily with one hand. “No! Please…PLEEEEAAAASSSSEEE!” The plea for mercy got about as much response as he would have given himself in a similar situation, and before long it was choked off by a stream of blood as the genie wrenched his jaws open and reached inside. A soft, wet object hit the wall with a squelching noise. 

Reiltar was still screaming, or so it seemed, but only muted bubbling sounds emerged. It went on for quite some time, but the stonewalls were thick. Nobody outside the room heard him.

The final thing Reiltar saw in his life he saw as he was lying on the floor. All over the floor, in fact, by this time, and being slowly spread ever thinner. There was a small black cat sitting on the floor under the table, watching him with unblinking green eyes. She steadfastly avoided stepping in him, and she bared her sharp little teeth in what might have been a smile, or a hiss, or possibly both. Then the genie’s rock-hard thumbs neared, there were the sounds of grapes being crushed, and he saw no more. 

However, the final thing Reiltar heard was quiet laughter. Not the deep bass laughter of the genie. This laughter was dark, low, and utterly female. Somehow, that humiliation hurt almost as badly as the physical pain. 

Then he died. 

And then he realized that the pain had only just started, and that it would go on for a very long time. 

Kahrk bowed briefly. “I have kept my word, as agreed,” he said. “When you swore that I would be let out of the bottle you trapped me in, we agreed that I would be free after I slew the one who released me.”

“That is true,” Zaerini said in a quiet voice. “And the other? Do not forget.” 

The Dao djinn’s dark face clouded over with sullen anger. “Very well. I will seek no vengeance against you or any of your company for this, nor will I ask any of my kin or anybody else to do so. With this, our contract is concluded.”

“It is. You may go.” 

The Dao dissolved into red smoke once again, and then he was gone, escaped to his own plane. 

_Good thing I picked that bottle up after the Firewine Bridge_ , Rini thought, smiling to herself. _I knew it would come in handy some day._

_Are you satisfied with your hunt, kitten?_ Softpaws asked. 

The bard looked around the room. Reiltar was all over the floor. And the walls. And the ceiling. Not to mention the bits and pieces on the table, and the very unsightly and personal parts that had been stuffed into the wine bottle and that she’d rather not look at too closely. Under other circumstances she was certain she would have felt sick, but as it was, that dark fire was still burning. 

_Yes_ , she said. _Now I am satisfied._

In the still corners of her soul she could feel the spirit of Bhaal coiled, watching. Waiting. _Know this, ‘Father’. This is the fate I intend for anybody meaning to use or abuse me as he did. And that goes for you too_. She smiled, and unbeknownst to her, the tips of her corner teeth grew temporarily more pointed. 

_In the Far North…_

He was cold. So very cold. Cold as the bitter and merciless snowstorm outside the window, cold as the glittering ice on the distant mountains, currently invisible through the whirling snowflakes. It wasn’t the fault of the room. The walls were sturdy enough; the fire in the fireplace was bright and hot. But not even an erupting volcano would have sufficed to warm the spirit of the man who was sitting at the table, staring listlessly at the wild dance of the snowflakes. This wasn’t the cold of the body; it was the cold of dark despair, paralyzing the soul. 

The snowflakes carried on their frantic dance. Under other circumstances, they might have seemed cheerful. As it was, they just looked desperate and lost. And yet they were perfectly formed, each one similar to the other, yet each one beautiful and unique. Like a child. 

Dekaras shook his head briefly. That wasn’t a thought he wanted to entertain at the moment. It led to other thoughts, thoughts he had been trying extremely hard to push back into the darkest recesses of his mind. It seemed impossible to keep them completely at bay though. Or, if he was honest with himself, to keep them away at all. 

Had Edwin been able to see his mentor at this moment, he would have been deeply shocked. At a first glance, the black-garbed assassin seemed his normal self, and certainly recovered from the wounds he had suffered in Baldur’s Gate. However, anybody who knew him well would have noticed some subtle differences. For one thing, the slump of his shoulders as he sat at the table, leaning his head against one hand, didn’t just look brooding; it looked utterly dejected. Though he made a frequent habit of schooling his face into an emotionless mask when the situation called for it, right now it seemed somehow frozen. The worst was the look of naked pain in his eyes though, as if he had just had his heart torn out of his body and ripped to bloody shreds. Being forced to realize the truth had taken care of that. 

He had certainly tried denial at first and had been quite good at it too. After all, there could be plenty of legitimate reasons for Edwin not to show up at the designated time and place, many of them extremely worrying. And he had been worried, increasingly so as the time passed and there still was no sign of the boy. After all, he knew Edwin, and knew how likely the wizard was to get himself into trouble without proper guidance. He had waited, and worried, and become increasingly certain that something must have gone hideously wrong, and that he had committed a terrible error. _Or several. We never should have left Thay in the first place._

Then, he had had what he had then considered a lucky break. A wizard had happened to be passing through the small town of Lonelywood, one with a fair knowledge of divination spells. It had seemed like the logical thing to ask him to scry for Edwin, and find out where he was, and when he would be arriving. _Yes. Very logical. Of course, deep down I think I already knew the truth. I just didn’t want to admit it to myself. Not again. Once was quite enough._

The assassin stared emptily at the falling snow, his thoughts once again running down the same dark trails they had done for the past few days. _I failed. I thought…I honestly thought that despite not being able to claim him openly, I had at least managed to make him care for me somewhat. How I must have deluded myself. If that had been the case, he never would have done this. He never would deliberately have misled me in such a grave manner; never have betrayed me like this._

The diviner had been clearly afraid to speak the truth, that Edwin was not on his way and never had intended to come in the first place, and he had run off at the first opportunity. _Fool. I never was one to kill the messenger._

The snow was falling faster now, building up against the window, even as the cold despair was building in his soul. _But I am no less the fool. I did it again, didn’t I? I fooled myself into thinking that I could trust him, that I meant something to him. And I was wrong. So utterly wrong. It is the same thing all over again. And since I know he is not incapable of caring, then obviously the flaw must lie with me._

That all made a terrible sense. After all, hadn’t he been rejected even as a child, rejected and betrayed by his own family? It did not seem at all unreasonable that it might happen again. Though in some ways, this was even worse. _At least with my parents, I know why they did it, that they were following custom, cruel as it was. But Edwin…why would he do such a thing? If I managed to make him hate me that much, then I must have deserved it. Then I must deserve whatever happens to me. Perhaps he is better off without me. Perhaps I ought to make certain I never darken his life again, since he has gone to such lengths to be rid of me. I only ever wanted to keep him happy and safe. And perhaps I can still do that._

Dekaras nodded, hardly noticing how lightheaded the motion made him feel. He couldn’t quite remember when he had last eaten or slept for that matter. Such matters currently seemed utterly unimportant. Yes. It all made sense now. If Edwin would do a thing like this to be free of him, then he must have deserved it. If he had deserved it, then it must have been because he had failed his child in the most terrible manner. And if so, he owed him to make that up to him. It was all very, very logical. 

The sky was rapidly darkening outside, and the bitter wind was increasing. Far in the distance, above the storm, there was the long and mournful howl of a wolf. Moments later, another responded, and then another, a sad chorus echoing the increasingly dark thoughts of the assassin. Some deep part of his soul wanted to rise and howl with them. Slowly, almost tentatively, he drew one of his daggers, turning the slim blade over and over in his hand. It would be so easy. _After all, who knows better than I how to do this? I could probably make it almost painless. But that, I don’t really deserve, now do I?_

With a distant, almost absent-minded look in his black eyes he pressed the edge of the blade into his skin, gently drawing it across the palm. The pain was sharp and hot, and so was the blood that slowly trickled onto the table. The brief heat felt good, very good. _It is cold here. So cold. Colder even than the winter in Rasheman._

And the pain…the pain was a relief of a kind. Physical pain, real and tangible, nothing like the complex torment of the soul. Nothing like the winter in his heart. 

_Yes. This is the way of it. Slowly. Carefully. Methodically._

Another cut, higher up along the arm, just a little bit deeper, but not yet deep enough to damage the underlying structures. He knew just how to open the artery of course, but that would have to wait for later. _Such lovely heat…almost like magic._

Minutes passed, and by now the sky was completely black, with the glittering stars resembling tiny glittering needles far above but hidden by the clouds. The wolves were still singing their sad song, but inside the room all was quiet. 

There was some more blood on the table now, and the deep red color of it suddenly brought to mind images of red robes, and of equally red lips smiling from a lovely and imperious face, dominated by a pair of dangerously flashing eyes. _Would she mourn me if I were gone? I would have thought so before. But now…I do not know. If I could have been so wrong about our son…might I not have been equally wrong about her? And even if I am not…through my failure, Edwin will bring the wrath of the Red Wizards down on himself, something he cannot possibly hope to survive. She could never forgive me that. And…I could not bear to see the hatred and rejection in her eyes. Not her as well. Far better this brief pain of the flesh, so much easier to bear. Far better to simply disappear and never hear the condemnation in her voice._

Another superficial cut, and some more of the brief and feather light pain, keeping him anchored in reality, distracting him from the deeper wounds of the soul. And then…there was a brief movement at the door, the shadows shifting slightly. Dekaras turned his head, not really caring about what it was. When he saw the shape standing there he froze in mid motion, hardly believing his own eyes. 

It was Edwin. But not the wizard as he had last seen him, back in Baldur’s Gate. Rather, this was the child of many years ago. The small boy stood by the door, his face solemn, and his eyes curious under his shock of messy dark hair. “Father?” he said. “What are you doing?” 

Father. The two simple syllables pierced the assassin’s heart like a blade, making him inhale sharply even as his face twisted with a sudden spasm of pain. He had never heard his child speak that word to him in reality, and didn’t expect to ever do so, being forced to keep the relationship secret, as he had been, even to the boy himself. But in dreams…in dreams he had heard it thousands of times, in thousands of different imagined situations. His imagination could be cruelly inventive when it came to picturing things that had never been, and that never would be. 

_I must already be dead then. Dead or dreaming, and I am not certain which I would prefer._

“Father?” the child spoke again. “Are you all right?” He slowly crossed the floor until he stood by the seated man’s knee, looking up into his face. The distress in his eyes certainly seemed genuine enough. 

“What…” Dekaras said, and then he had to clear his throat in order to be able to continue. “What are you? You certainly aren’t real.” 

“Yes, I am!” Edwin protested, sounding highly indignant. “I’m right here, can’t you see me?” Then he frowned. “Well, I’m here, but I’m not _here_ here. But I’m real anyway, just not in the way you think. Really, I am. What are you doing?” Then his eyes went very large and round. “You’re hurt!” he cried out despondently. “Did you…why did you do that?” His lips started trembling. “Are you that mad at me for what I did?”

“I…”

There were tears rising in the child’s eyes now. “Please don’t go away, Father. Please don’t hate me, even if you’re mad at me.” He reached out his arms in a pleading gesture. “Father? Please?” 

There was, of course, only one possible course of action. The assassin gently picked the child up, and seated him on his lap, hugging him closely. “Of course I don’t hate you,” he murmured. “I always loved you, and I always will, no matter how many times you reject me.” _And that is exactly why it hurts so much._

He wasn’t certain how long he cradled the boy in his arms, rocking him slowly. It might have been seconds, minutes or even hours. It was comfort, of a sort, but it was painful all the same. Still, he never wished for it to stop, even despite the burning and tight sensation in his throat and behind his eyes, which would almost certainly have become tears if he had still been able to cry. 

“Father?” Edwin eventually said. “I…I must go now. I’m sorry. I love you. And I need you, I really do.”

“You…you do?” _I wish I could believe that. I really do._

The small boy nodded as he carefully slid down to the floor. “Yes. You’ll need me too, but I’ll need you first. Please…you must be careful. There are lots of bad things coming…” He walked towards the door, and gradually faded away into nothing. 

_Now, that last sentence, I can easily believe._ Dekaras sighed, closing his eyes. He was suddenly feeling extremely tired, drained of all energy. The wounds had stopped bleeding by now, and he couldn’t really summon up the energy to deal with them at the moment. They weren’t deep enough to cause any real damage anyway, not yet. Right now, he wanted only to immerse himself in the vision of his child, be it dream or hallucination. He didn’t care which. _I can at least pretend that it was real, and that he truly does care. Pretend…at least for a little while._

Wearily he rose, taking hold of the table to steady himself as the world suddenly spun before his eyes, and then slowly and carefully crossed the floor to the bed, and lay down. He should probably try to sleep some, or he would really be as worthless as he felt. _Anyway…I was wrong to try to take the easy way out. Cowardly, even._ He closed his eyes, shivering. _Even…even if he should truly hate me, I still have a duty to guard and protect him, and watch over him, and I cannot betray that. I cannot betray that trust, even if he did, or I would betray myself._

By now, the wolves had stopped their howling, though the wind was getting stronger, and the snow was still piling up against the window. _Duty. That…is some comfort. Just a little bit. And yet…I still feel so cold. So very, very cold._


	64. Gathering Shadows

**In The Cards 64 – Gathering Shadows**

_For the Children of Bhaal, peace is a rare luxury. As soon as one foe falls, it always seems that three more stand in line, waiting and eager to take his place._

_Excerpt from ‘Ruminations Of A Master Bard’_

Edwin was dreaming. In his dream, he was sitting on the floor, in front of a vast fireplace sporting a toasting hot fire that made him feel comfortably warm from his toes to the tip of his nose. The rest of the room was dark, featureless and blurred, with furniture hunched up in the background like great dark beasts. It wasn’t that important. The one thing that mattered was the lovely creature curled up on his lap. 

The red cat was purring loudly, a contented sound that relaxed the wizard immensely, giving him the impression that everything was right with the world. Her golden eyes were closed as she relaxed to his touch, though now and then her small paws kneaded his lap in a way that showed that she was awake and that made the wizard swallow hard each time it happened. 

The animal’s fur was soft and smooth beneath his caressing fingers, so incredibly soft. He felt that he could go on petting it forever, and every time he touched it, he felt as if tiny sparks jumped from the cat through his fingers and straight into his soul. _Beautiful. So very beautiful, my Firecat._

She was safe now, at least for the moment, and she was with him. All was well. All would be well. He would make it so, and he wouldn’t let anything stand in his way. 

Edwin closed his eyes and let the purring fill his soul with quiet bliss, feeling so relaxed that he was almost ready to go to sleep. But then…. something changed. 

There was another sound intruding into the background now. Distant…faint. But it was getting stronger, and stole into his heart on quiet feet, demanding that he acknowledge it. 

Closer now, coming closer and closer, and now he could recognize it clearly as it resonated through his soul. It was a ghostly sound, loud and mournful, and it sent a cold shiver of dread down his spine. His hand on the fur of the cat was moving slowly, as if through treacle, and she looked up at him, watching him with a puzzled and slightly annoyed look in her glittering eyes. Strangely enough, she didn’t seem to hear what he heard.

Closer, ever closer the sound came, piercing the walls of the house from outside. It might well have been the cry of a soul in eternal torment, but Edwin knew it only too well, and his stomach twisted with guilt and apprehension as the accusing cries rang in his ears. It was the howling of a great wolf. 

The howls were close now, coming from just outside the great door that had suddenly appeared in the wall on the far side of the room. Edwin carefully put the red cat down on the ground. She blinked and watched him curiously, still clearly unable to hear the terrible noise. Still calm, she remained seated by the fireplace as the wizard slowly crossed the floor, staring into the fire with eyes that matched its color exactly. 

Slowly, oh so slowly, Edwin walked across the floor. He wanted nothing more than to stop, than to turn around and run, but his body wouldn’t obey him. With the terrible certainty of a nightmare he guessed what waited on the other side of the door, but he was unable to do anything other than to go on. He had to go on, though every step made the cold dread gain a firmer hold on his heart. 

Now, his hand was on the door handle, and he gave a startled oath. The metal of the handle was freezing with cold; it almost took his skin off. Taking a deep breath, he grasped it with the sleeve of his red robe, and then pulled the door open. 

The cold struck the Red Wizard full in the face, making him gasp for breath as an icy wind whipped at him, tearing at his clothes. Drifts of snow immediately blew across the threshold. It took him a few seconds to realize that the howls had stopped. And then…he saw. 

The great black wolf stood a short distance away, watching the door intently. It was a magnificent animal, as large as a dire wolf, its thick fur the color of deepest midnight. Clumps of snow clung to it in places, as if the wolf had been wading through the deep snow for hours. The animal held its head high, but there was still something about its stance that suggested extreme weariness. And…there was blood in the snow. 

Though the dark blood was extremely difficult to make out against the black fur, it became visible as it left its scarlet marks on the ground, and Edwin thought he could make out the wounds as well, nasty and painful-looking gashes along the sides of the wolf, wounds that pained him to the core. Then he met the eyes of the wolf, and what he saw there was even worse. Anger, yes. Apprehension, and badly concealed uncertainty. But pain most of all. Pain and sorrow. 

_I did that. Me._ The realization hit Edwin with all the force of a blow to his stomach, and before he knew it, he was stumbling through the snow, fighting to get closer to the wolf. The animal took a few steps backwards, baring its impressive white teeth in a silent snarl, clearly unwilling to trust him. 

“Please…” the wizard said, hardly able to get the word out. “Please, I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I only wanted to keep you safe! Not…not this! I didn’t know!”

_But you guessed_ , a small voice spoke inside his mind. _Deep down, on some level, you guessed. For every action there is a price to pay. But sometimes…you aren’t the only one paying it._

Slowly, slowly, his hand outstretched, he edged closer to the wolf. For a moment he thought he would succeed in gaining its trust. But then, just as his fingertips touched the black fur, the animal sprang back; its eyes alight with suspicion, almost as if it were expecting him to strike it. A warning growl rumbled deep in its massive throat.

_What…what have I done?_

“Please,” Edwin said. “Don’t go…” But the black wolf already was turning around, disappearing deeper into the whirling snow, disappearing from sight. Lost to him. And it was cold. So cold. 

“Cold,” Edwin muttered in his sleep, then suddenly jerked his eyes open. The shreds of the dream still clung to him, much as he wished he could forget it. _What have I done?_

“Mmmmfff…” Zaerini said, and Edwin suddenly became very much aware that the sleeping half-elf was cuddled up close to him, leaning against his chest to be exact, with his arms around her. When he bent forward, her hair tickled his nose, and he felt his heart beating faster. On the other side of the cell Khalid and Jaheira were also asleep, and Yeslick was snoring loudly close by, though Imoen stood at the bars, looking out. _Hold on. Cell? Bars?_

And then Edwin suddenly remembered the events of the past few days, and he winced as the memories came rushing back to him. Reiltar had died all right, just as planned, and he had felt both joy and fierce pride as Zaerini explained just what she had done. As far as he was concerned, she had handled things admirably. Only then they had got arrested. There had been a large number of guards eyeing them warily, weapons drawn. Too many to fight at once, and they had had no choice other than to go along. They had been locked in this small and uncomfortable cell ever since, not knowing what was going to happen next, feeling extremely apprehensive. The one good thing had been that the bard had been very accepting regarding Edwin’s suggestion that she sleep close by him – to keep warm, of course. He was almost positive that she was enjoying it as much as he did. _She should not be locked up though. Not after that…that other experience. She is trying to keep calm, but I can see that it is affecting her._

“Hey, guys!” Imoen suddenly said. “You’d better wake up, somebody’s coming!” 

Indeed, there were footsteps approaching, and the tired adventurers soon found themselves being scrutinized by Ulraunt’s cold eyes. Edwin glared angrily back at the older wizard. Yeslick and Zaerini hadn’t given a word-for-word account of their previous encounter with the Keeper of the Tomes, but he had heard enough that it made him want to yank the elderly mage’s beard out hair by hair and make him choke on it. 

“So, Bhaalspawn,” the Keeper of the Tomes said, his face twisting with contempt. “You show your true nature once again, by committing foul murder. I cannot say that I am surprised.” 

Edwin could feel the woman reclining against him tense slightly, but when she spoke, she managed to sound almost bored, even yawning widely in Ulraunt’s face. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Old Buzzard,” she said. “Who is it that I’m supposed to have killed, anyway?”

“You know perfectly well who!” Ulraunt snapped, his beard bristling. “Reiltar Anchev, a respectable merchant, and a guest of Candlekeep.” 

“Is that so?” Zaerini said, and now there was a definite edge to her voice. “And I assume you have some proof that I murdered this…respectable merchant? Such as a murder weapon? Or a witness? Or maybe a motive?” 

“I have all the proof I need!” Ulraunt said, his voice shrill. “Though you managed to hide from sight, you are a Bhaalspawn! A foul creature bent only on destruction and chaos. And you had a motive, you yourself admitted it, as the man had offended you.” 

The bard slowly stood, approaching the bars until her face was mere inches away from Ulraunt’s. She was smiling dangerously. “How strange,” she said. “I could have sworn that when last we discussed this you said that I had no cause at all for complaint against Reiltar, and that it was all a misunderstanding, and that I probably encouraged him anyway. And now you claim that I would murder him over a simple…misunderstanding?” 

Edwin couldn’t quite remember getting to his feet, but he suddenly felt himself gripping the throat of Ulraunt’s robe, having yanked the other wizard up against the bars hard enough to give him a violent nosebleed. “You told her _that_?” he hissed into the other wizard’s pained face as Ulraunt gasped for breath. “That she _encouraged_ him? Then let me put this to you. If I were to slay you right now (preferably by slow dismemberment, paying extra special attention to his favorite ‘member’), then if I am accused before a court of law I shall certainly remember to use the defense that your abysmal stupidity, criminally ugly face and droning voice encouraged me to do so. I believe that would make a strong case. Care to find out?” 

Ulraunt was gasping for air, dazed from the blow, and the blood streaming from his crushed nose didn’t make his task any easier. Edwin found the snuffling and pig-like noises he was making particularly enjoyable, though the blood staining his own robes would be a bit of a bother to get rid of. 

“Edwin, d-don’t!” Khalid warned, grasping the wizard’s shoulder. “If he d-d-dies, we will all be executed at once.” 

“It’s tempting though,” Imoen said in a thoughtful voice. “He was being very mean. He always hated Rini, and me too. He doesn’t really care who killed Reiltar, just as long as he can get rid of us.” 

Zaerini nodded. “That’s probably true. But if he can see me hang for it, so much the better.” 

“Edwin,” Jaheira said. “Bring him just a little closer. That is it.” There was a loud CLONK as the druid’s fist connected hard with Ulraunt’s temple. The wizard dropped to the ground, unconscious. “And now,” Jaheira said, “can we please do a little less talking and some more searching for the keys to this cell?”

Ulraunt did indeed turn out to be carrying a large ring of keys, among them one leading to the cell. The adventurers stepped outside, pleased to finally be out of the confined space. “Hm,” Zaerini said. “I have an idea. How about if we make old Ulraunt slip into something more comfortable? We seem to have everything we need right here…” 

A short while later they were on their way towards the exit from the dungeon, but before they could get that far yet another familiar face appeared in their path. Tethoril. The old wizard looked very surprised to see the prisoners out of their cell, but not nearly as alarmed as Edwin would have expected. “What…” he said. “What are you doing here?” 

“We’re collecting money for the acquisition of neural matter for Western Wizards, so sadly lacking in the area of cognition,” Edwin said, a small sneer on his face. “Perhaps you would like to donate some coins, then we could put you first in line. We’re escaping, what do you think it looks like?” 

Zaerini elbowed him sharply in the side. “Eddie!” she hissed. “He’s a friend, he was always nice to me and Immy. Be nice.” Then she turned to Tethoril. “Sorry about that,” she said. “None of us are exactly up to chat at the moment. And we are escaping, as he said, but we don’t want to cause any trouble.”

“Speak for yourself,” Edwin muttered, and then bit back a yelp as the bard deliberately tread on his toe. 

Imoen bobbed her pink head up and down. “Yeah, sorry Mister T,” she said. “We’ve really gotta go, but then ya won’t see us again.” 

Tethoril looked a little taken aback. “Gorion was a friend,” he said. “I would not see his child executed, unless I was certain there was good reason to do so, and I have been provided with none. I came to show you the way out, as it were.” He cleared his throat. “Your equipment has been placed in a small library close to here, one that has a secret entrance leading into the catacombs of Candlekeep. I will take you there, and that will give you a chance to escape without attracting the attention of the guards.” 

“Thanks,” Zaerini said, smiling warmly at the old wizard. 

“It be a very decent thing to do,” Yeslick said, nodding approvingly. “An’ there be no cave that a dwarf cannae find his way through.” 

Edwin suddenly thought of something. “Are there by any chance any valuable tomes or priceless magical artifacts hidden within these catacombs?” he hopefully asked. “Not that I would steal them or anything. I ask merely out of professional courtesy. (Or maybe a dragon…now that would be something…)” 

Tethoril’s eyes were slightly dazed by now. “I…do not know,” he said. “Except for what is hidden in the deadly trapped crypt in the dead-end corridor.”

“What’s that?” Imoen asked. 

“An enormous amount of turnips that Ulraunt got swindled into buying recently from a passing gnomish wizard. Honestly, I don’t know what the man was thinking of. It’s not as if he even likes turnips…”

A few hours later the prison guard came by to supply his prisoners with supper. When he heard a muffled sound from inside the cell he looked outside, and then had to fight a violent urge to laugh. Ulraunt had been hung upside-down from the wall, his bony ankles secured by the iron rings normally used for wrists, and his robe had slid down and was covering his face, partially muffling his swearing. It was also painfully apparent that his underwear was covered with pictures of extremely large-chested elven ladies who almost seemed to be sniggering at his predicament. Or possibly at the content of the underpants, it was a bit difficult to tell.

Despite many efforts, no cleric was ever able to restore the original shape of Ulraunt’s nose, though several got extremely rich from trying. Magic was able to remove the organ in its entirety, though sticking it back on after an attempt to beat it into shape was made did fail miserably. Seeing it drop into Ulraunt’s soup at an official dinner certainly made many young monks very happy though. 

The catacombs beneath Candlekeep were dark, cold, and littered with traps. That was only to be expected. What Zaerini hadn’t expected was for the doppelgangers to have guessed that she and her friends would try to escape this way. And so, when familiar faces appeared before her, she was momentarily fooled. Dear old Phlydia, screaming for her blood. Dreppin the stable boy, one of the few friends of her childhood, his face a twisted mask of hate. Winthrop the innkeeper, licking his lips as he came after her, hands outstretched. For a moment she had been fooled. 

Then, she had rallied. 

And then, she had killed them all. 

Killing was getting easier; she had noticed that. Whether she used magic or blade, she was getting better and better at striking at the right time, in the right spot. _My sire’s instinct. But if it will help keep me alive, I have to use it. But only when I want to._

The rage was strong and trying to grow stronger. Reiltar’s death had helped her a little…she could still recall the pain and humiliation, but when she did, she made herself see his bloody death, and then the fear died down and was replaced by fierce contentment. _Nobody will treat me like that again. And if they try, they will die, just as he did._

The bard smiled quietly to herself. She certainly didn’t intend to go on some killing-spree; she didn’t want to become another Sarevok. But to some extent, she could understand the temptation. _Killing Reiltar…that felt so good. If I had been able to resurrect him, I might have, so I could repeat it over and over again. I have never hated anybody as much as I did him, and I don’t want to. If I did that sort of thing again…I might not be able to withstand my sire any longer. I could feel the pull of the blood increasing, even as Reiltar’s blood was spilt. No. I must be careful. Very careful._

The adventurers were passing through a large hall now, marble pillars disappearing into the darkness high above. She was nearing the other side now, hoping that the catacombs would soon come to an end. Then…she saw. 

Three men were standing at the end of the hall, waiting. Tethoril, looking sad and weary. Elminster, still in that ridiculous pointy hat, his face grim above his long beard. And there…an old mage, wearing a long gray cloak to match the color of his beard, and when his familiar eyes met hers, they were filled with love. _Gorion? No…it can’t be!_

“Zaerini!” Elminster called out. “Stop this madness, child, I beg of thee! Thou hast soaked these halls with the blood of innocents and I cannot permit it to go further.”

Before the bard had the time to answer, Jaheira spoke up. “How dare you!” the druid hissed. “You are not Elminster. The one beside you…wears the face of my departed friend, wears it like a mask. Abominations!”

Gorion simply smiled, looking kindly at his ward. “It is all right, Zaerini, my child. I didn't die that night, nor have I yet. The blade that you thought slew me had been treated with a magical poison. It left me, a living soul and a lively mind, imprisoned in a body that gave all appearance of death. Please, child, I have loved you too much to lose you now.”

_Gorion…I love you too_. The words did not pass her lips though. 

“Please, child,” Elminster said. “Sheathe those weapons and sheathe thy madness, too. Come with us and we shall see thee, at last, to safety.”

“Safety?” Edwin sneered. “Somehow, I doubt that. (To a shallow grave, more likely.) And if you were really the Old Coot, then you would assuredly be able to recall the manner of our last encounter, yes? (Utter humiliation for the pointy-hatted one – I think I could manage to think up a few thousand interesting ways to achieve that. I might even make it my new hobby.)”

Rini nodded. “He’s right. You should remember that…Elminster. Tell us, why don’t you? Because if you’re Elminster, I’m Drizzt the Dork, and that would be too terrible a fate to live with.” 

Gorion’s face was horrified now, his voice pained. “By all that is good, Zaerini, what have they done to your mind to haunt it so? Your old friend Dreppin lies tangled in his own entrails and foolish Phlydia, she ran down here to offer a mother's shoulder and you have butchered her like the monster you perceived her to be... The gods have no mercy on we ragged mortals, it appears.”

Elminster sighed. “I am a dottering and elderly fool for having let it come to this! There stood I, Elminster the Arrogant, nudging and prodding but never taking action... The most powerful mage in the Realms reduced to a meager puppeteer... Listen close, Zaerini: With the help of doppelgangers and some powerful magics, Sarevok has encased thee within a vast and frightening illusion. I was unsure whether I could even penetrate it to reach thee. The time has come for a leap of faith, child. Thou must fling aside this foul illusion and let us lead thee back to reality where Sarevok is fightable.”

_Boy. They must really think I’m stupid_. “Many things might be said about Sarevok,” Zaerini said in a cold voice, loosening her sword in its scabbard. “But he is certainly no mage. No more than the Elminster I’ve met would ever apologize for his attempting to manipulate me.” Then she turned her head around, her eyes blazing. “And you. You are not my father, and you will _not_ pretend to be. No more!” 

‘Gorion’ hissed and bared his teeth. “Thsss, then, fleshling! Go mad, if you will, and feel the rasp of our claws against your mind!” He raised his arms in preparation to cast a spell, then screamed as an arrow hit him in the chest. 

“You’re not Gorion!” Imoen screamed. “And you will give his face back!” 

Then there was chaos, as the fight began in earnest. 

As Khalid and Jaheira rushed the doppelgangers, Edwin cast a spell to make the party move with the speed of lightning, even as Yeslick called upon his own power to remove the increased speed of the creatures. The result was spectacular, with various disgusting body parts and bits of innards flying everywhere. Out of the corner of her eye, Rini could see Edwin heaping magical flames on the fake Elminster, whose beard was burning merrily. As for herself, she fired off a few Magic Missiles at the false Gorion, supported by Imoen’s arrows. As he went down, she ran over, raising her sword. 

_It isn’t really Gorion. Just a doppelgange_ r. All the same, bringing the sword down did take more than a little effort, since the false face remained. 

“Child…” the doppelganger whispered. “Do you no longer love your father?”

“Yes,” the half-elf said, her face pale. “I will always love Gorion. And that is why I must do this.” With that, the sword stabbed down. _And now I know at least a little of what Durlag must have felt. I had no idea it would be so difficult, despite…despite knowing what that thing really was._

Once the doppelganger stopped twitching Zaerini turned to her friends. “There,” she said. “Now let’s get out of here. Wouldn’t want to keep Sarevok waiting for too long.” 

Edwin sighed as he stepped over the corpse of the fake Elminster. “Such a pity,” he said. “For a second there, I was almost able to make myself believe it was the real thing. (One day though. Yes. One day.)” 

At about the same time that these events were taking place, Sarevok’s party were settling down for the night, halfway between Candlekeep and Baldur’s Gate. The warrior himself was standing on the top of a tall hill, creating a highly dramatic figure against the blood red sky behind him. Another person might have been wary about being so visible in the wilderness, but as far as Sarevok was concerned, nothing in its right mind would dare attack him, and if something not in its right mind did, it would have only itself to blame. At any rate, the dark silhouette of the large warrior in his grotesque armor outlined against the sky was very impressive, particularly with the way his golden eyes had narrowed into intimidating slits inside the darkness of his helmet. At the moment he was staring back towards Candlekeep, or at least in its general direction, since the fortress itself wasn’t visible any longer. 

_Soon, little sister_ , he thought. _Soon_. Sarevok wasn’t exactly certain what to think about the events that had recently transpired, and he was still trying to figure it out. _Reiltar dead. The ogre of my early years, the monster beneath the stairs, the bane of my existence…dead. It is difficult to fathom._

It had been his sister’s work too, and he didn’t quite know what to think about that either. _The manner of it was certainly fitting, with his foul body literally torn to pieces like that. I wonder how she achieved that? She isn’t that large, she shouldn’t have been able to do it with her bare hands, and yet that was exactly what it looked like. And her companions were not involved. There were witnesses who saw them in the library at the time the murder took place, so they could not have aided her directly. No, she was the only one of them not accounted for. She must have done it. But how? Magic? Can she truly be that powerful already?_

Sarevok smiled. However, she had done it, it was an impressive deed. As he thought of his sibling, he felt strangely pleased. _Proud? Can that be it? Am I…proud of her? Yes, I am. She is growing stronger, coming into her inheritance. Not as strong as I, obviously, and she will not take the Throne while I yet live. But it is pleasant to watch, all the same. She is doing very well._

True, he had wanted to slay Reiltar himself, and had even planned to do so during the stay at Candlekeep. The doppelgangers were supposed to aid with that, one of them taking the form of Zaerini to lure Reiltar into a trap. Then, when Reiltar thought he would be able to continue what he had started, he would find Sarevok waiting for him. _Alas, it was not to be. But they will at least be able to create some havoc in Candlekeep, as per the other part of my plan. The death and terror they spread will certainly aid my Ascension._

“Sarevok?” Tamoko came walking silently up from behind, a slender shape moving like a shadow. Her black braid swayed as she moved, and as she approached her lover, he thought he could see a hint of worry in her dark eyes, though her face was as calm as always. “What are you doing?”

“I was thinking,” Sarevok said. “Of Reiltar. And of my sister.” He gave Tamoko a curious look. “Tell me, what is your opinion of her?”

Tamoko was silent for a moment. “She seems to be a capable woman. She has gained much fighting experience since we first encountered her, and she is certainly intelligent. I would not have minded having her for a friend – had things been different, of course.” 

“Of course.” Sarevok smiled as he put his arm about his lover’s waist. “But it pleases me that you approve of her, anyway. There is a…certain connection between us, a bond.”

“You do not resent her then? For taking the vengeance against Reiltar that you had been reserving for yourself?”

Sarevok shook his head. “Briefly, perhaps. But no longer. She…had the right. I would have slain him myself but…she had the right as well. And she performed admirably.” He sighed contentedly. “Before she dies, I must ask her to describe it all, down to the smallest detail. Siblings should share this sort of thing.”

“It is to be soon, then?”

“Yes. Once we return to Candlekeep, the final stages of the plan will be set into motion. Soon, the city will be in my hands. And then…the Throne.” He smiled down at the woman beside him. “Tamoko, it will be glorious. And you will be right there, at my side, as my consort. Imagine it, the two of us together forever, with all the power of Murder at our disposal. My Father has shown me, you know. Once enough blood is spilt, I will ascend, and he will fully infuse me with the essence. No longer will mortal frailties or emotions hinder me or hold me back.” 

There was a slight stiffening of Tamoko’s posture, almost imperceptible. Sarevok was trained in reading her expressions, however.

“Tamoko? Is something the matter?” 

“No,” Tamoko said, her voice carefully guarded. “Nothing at all.” Then she craned her neck backwards to look him straight in the face, her beautiful eyes sincere and determined. “I love you, my Sarevok. I love you, and I am always on your side. Whatever may happen, I want you to always know that.”

And for a brief moment, as he smiled and bent down to kiss her, the mask of Bhaal slipped away. For a moment, Sarevok was once again the mortal man whom she had fallen in love with, and the man who had loved her more than any throne in the world. 

-*-

The hot blood was soothing as it enveloped her naked body, rich and smooth, and a lovely deep ruby red. Bodhi sighed deeply and reclined in her bath, then raised her finger to her lips and delicately licked it off. She supposed she shouldn’t really taste of the blood in her bath, but it was very tasty, and she couldn’t be bothered to summon one of her fledglings to fetch her a fresh victim. 

The vampire smiled, revealing her wicked fangs, and her dark eyes shone with contentment. Things were going very well, very well indeed. Her new home had certainly proved excellent so far. 

The graveyard district of Athkatla held many dark and forgotten secrets. Ancient tombs and crypts haunted by various undead. The twisted corpses of those unfortunate souls buried alive, their bodies clearly showing their struggles as they vainly attempted to claw out of their graves. And then this, the hidden tunnels far beneath the graveyard, dark and mysterious, with ancient architecture that definitely wasn’t Amnian. Well-hidden and guarded by roaming monsters and impenetrable doors, it was the perfect hiding place for a growing clan of vampires. 

Dark and stylish, and large enough for an army of the undead, with a suite of private chambers for herself, several smaller rooms, a large gathering hall, and even a lovely torture chamber that provided her with much entertainment. And then there was the bathtub. The grand, luxurious, lovely bathtub currently filled to the brim with sweet blood. 

_Good thing that we’re so close to the slums and the docks. So many warm bodies available there, and so few people to miss them should they disappear._

Immersing herself like this wasn’t only for pleasure though. When prepared properly, the bath enhanced her strength, granting her new vitality and strength of purpose. _I must make certain to do this more often._

A shimmering portal forming in the air made the raven-haired vampire frown irritably. _Typical. The one time of the day when I try to relax, and who should drop in but my dear brother? Didn’t the Bitch ever teach him how to knock?_

“Sweet brother,” Bodhi said, smiling venomously at her visitor. “How good of you to drop by.” She stretched languidly in her bath, displaying her voluptuous body to its full advantage, smeared with blood as it was. 

“I do not make social calls these days,” the newcomer said in an emotionless voice as he sat down next to the tub. “There are matters we need to discuss.” The mage’s eyes, the one feature of his face visible behind the smooth, youthful and lifeless mask he wore, resembled chips of blue ice. “Get out of there.”

“I won’t!” Bodhi pouted. “It’s just the right temperature. What’s the matter, don’t you like what you’re seeing?”

“I simply see a colossal waste of resources. Those people might be utilized in a better way.”

“Maybe,” the vampire hissed. “But right now, they’re providing me with a beauty bath. Get talking brother or get lost.” 

The mage simply raised an eyebrow. “Do not be ridiculous,” he said. “Would you rather waste your time with idle pleasures than pursue our ultimate goal?” 

“At least I can feel some pleasure still, unlike you!” 

“Perhaps. And if you keep quiet long enough for me to explain my errand here, you may soon feel all the more.” The wizard’s forefinger traced idle patterns in the hot blood, then came to rest on the vampire’s slender shoulder. “Our goal is almost within reach. I believe I have perfected the process after my most recent series of experiments – and the two Children are soon about to clash. It may be feasible to retrieve both, but if not, we shall at least have the victor. And there is more. As I previously suspected, I have located another Spawn, a lesser one but still useful. Soon, sister, we will both be restored.” 

“Aaaaahhh…” Bodhi sighed, and reached up to softly stroke the mage’s face, her finger leaving tears of blood behind on the smooth cheeks of the mask. “To feel again…feel properly…it has been so long.” 

“Indeed.” The wizard’s voice was as distant and impersonal as ever as he rose to a standing position. “However, we will not be able to proceed at once after we have acquired them. To free the essence of Bhaal properly, the soul must first be properly prepared, and opened to it. Fortunately, I have the means to do so, and it will also provide me with some interesting data.” 

Bodhi smiled again, fangs glittering like needles of ice. “I’m sure it will, my brother. And then…we will go home?”

The wizard nodded, and his voice turned even colder than before. “Yes, my sister. Then we will go home.” 

-*-

Meanwhile, a caravan was entering the impressive city gates of Athkatla. It was a fairly large one, and it didn’t contain just the regular riders and wagons. No, there were several large cages, containing all sorts of exotic animals. Lions, tigers, bears, a large python, even a moose. A pair of enormous elephants walked sedately along the wagons, one of them reaching its massive trunk down to steal a bag of nuts out of the pocket of the shocked gate guard, and accidentally ripping his uniform pants to pieces in the process. 

Jesters cavorted around the wagons, attracting the attention of potential audience by taking pratfalls and making silly faces, as acrobats made handstands and back flips. Already rumor would be spreading that a wonderful circus had come to time. 

On the seat of one of the wagons, a blonde elf sat, her enormous blue eyes looking about her with an air of wide-eyed innocence at all the marvels of the big city. “Oh!” she said in a timid voice. “It…it is all so b-big and noisy! All the s-screaming and shouting…it brings back so many m-memories!”

The gnome sitting next to the elf patted her hand and smiled at her, his eyes slightly glazed behind his spectacles. “I quite understand, little Aerie,” he said. “It must remind you of your terrible ordeal with those slavers. But don’t you worry about a thing, I won’t let any harm come to you.” 

“Oh, thank you Uncle Quayle!” the elf cooed. “You are ever so good to me!” _Actually_ , she thought, _what it did remind me of was the lovely screams of people being flayed alive or having red-hot needles jammed beneath their toenails or being slowly disemboweled. But no need to tell you that ‘Uncle Quayle’. And speaking of harm, you are the one who should worry about that, once I have no further use for you. I will make my Mistress of Pain satisfied with my work here._

“It is nothing, my dear,” Quayle said, blushing. “You have changed my life, you know.” He looked momentarily puzzled. “In fact, I can scarcely remember what my life was like before we met.” 

_That, you fool, is because of the Domination spell I used to make you susceptible to a set of new and improved memories_. Aerie twirled a lock of golden hair bashfully around her rosy finger and smiled shyly. “I’m so happy to hear that, Uncle Quayle! This circus has been such a good home to me!” _And soon it will be time to leave it behind, preferably in pieces. Soon it will have served its purpose in bringing me here and providing me with an adequate cover, and then it will be my great pleasure to see all these idiots torn to pieces. And I know just the way…_

The elf turned her head slightly, looking at the wagon behind her. Another gnome was riding there, glaring sullenly at the crowds of people. Kalah, the illusionist. A sad little fellow, constantly ridiculed by the other artists for his pompous ways, feared here in Amn for his magic, scorned by all. By all except kind, sweet, friendly little Aerie of course. She made certain always to have a kind word or an encouraging smile for the lonely gnome, and by now he was practically eating out of her hand. _The perfect victim. And the perfect scapegoat as well. How I will laugh when he realizes the truth at last_. Aerie smiled radiantly as she contemplated her plan. _Soon now, very soon, as my Mistress Loviatar promised. Soon the Child of Bhaal will arrive, and my own enemies as well. I will serve my Mistress and bring them down, all at once. Yes. They will know pain such as no man has ever known it before, body and soul. I owe them that. And then I will not need this simpering disguise any longer, and I will rise to serve my Mistress in my full glory. Soon, all shall fear me. Except for those who shall love me – and that love shall bring them the darkest despair. As is the way of all love. In the end, it is the servant of pain. So swears Cirindaeriella, Priestess of Loviatar._

“It is good to see you so happy, sweet Aerie,” Quayle doted. “I hope it will last.” 

“Oh yes, Uncle Quayle,” Aerie said, her laughter ringing like clear silver bells. “I know that it will.”   
-*-

Elsewhere, a woman was standing on a balcony, watching the view. Her lustrous brown hair had been piled on top of her head, resembling a crown, but she wore no jewelry. She had no need of it. All those around her knew exactly who she was. The woman carefully smoothed her wide purple skirts out, then leaned on the marble balustrade surrounding the balcony, carved into the form of dancing nymphs, more exquisite than human hands could create. But there is little that magic cannot do, if properly guided and channeled. 

The woman smiled; her eyes calm as she watched the serene gardens beneath her. Truly this was a beautiful day, everything just so. Trees in their proper places, cropped into geometrically pleasing shapes. Flowers growing where ordained, in ruler-straight lines. Lawns trimmed to perfection by her loving subjects. And the people below, all of them quietly going about their business. Peacefully, happily, obediently. Just as it should be. 

_People need gentle guidance, after all. Just as magic, just as the trees and flowers. Imagine what things would be like if they were allowed to run wild all over the place! That would not do at all. And in such cases, the dutiful gardener must make certain to remove the weeds before they can overrun the garden._

The woman tapped her fingers against the balustrade, thinking. Melissan had come again, bringing more news. News of monstrous, evil beings. _The Bhaalspawn. They must be stopped. I cannot allow them to threaten the peace. But Melissan has plans of her own, of that I am certain. Still, it will do no harm to go along with her for now and see what she wants. And then, I will do what I must. Am I not the first among equals? The Oluanna, The Chosen One? I have not only the power to rule, but also the right and the purity necessary to do so._

Tracing a pattern in the air, the woman created a glimmering orb, a shining and beautiful miniature version of the world, complete with detailed seas and continents. _The larger garden, even more beautiful than this one. I will keep it safe, as I am destined to do. I will allow no weeds into it. They will be cut out, root and stem, and then all will be perfect again, under my gentle rule. For who could be more suited than I for bringing order and prosperity to the world, as I have done to my home? I will make them all see the beauty inherent in perfection, in having everything and everyone in their proper place, productive and placid._

The woman smiled radiantly as the world changed before her eyes, changing to match her vision of perfection. _Yes. Everything will be perfect. And the ones who do not see that will have to be taught to do so._


	65. Dream Shapes

**In The Cards 65 – Dream Shapes**

_For any person, it is very important to know whom to listen to and take advice from, and whom to ignore. That is especially crucial for the Children of Bhaal. Listen to the wrong voice, and you may end up a ravening lunatic slaughtering everybody around you, something that is not good for relationships._

_Excerpt from ‘Ruminations Of A Master Bard’_

Zaerini dreamt. The dream started out nicely enough. She was wandering through the streets of a large city. There were wide and beautiful streets, lined with tall trees, streets leading up to marble palaces and glittering temples, streets lit with magical lanterns that shone like miniature moons. 

Then there were the merchant streets, where anything and everything could be bought and sold. There were smells of spices and incense, of meat and sweet cakes, of flowers and herbs. Sunlight flashed in all the colors of the rainbow as it reflected off exquisite gemstones and bolts of expensive cloth. Goats bleated, chickens clucked, merchants cried out the merits of their wares everywhere in one big cacophony. There was even a tiny monkey that grinned at her from one of the stands and tried to steal her purse with its quick little black hands. 

_This is really living. Color and movement, and everything happening all at once._

Large crowds of people passed by, smiling kindly at her. Warriors in heavy armor, with swords at their sides. Wizards in rich robes and carrying mysterious-looking wands and staves. Nobles and commoners, princes and beggars, all of them seemed happy to see her, and the air was filled with distant singing. 

Even the backstreets and dark alleyways had their place in the city. Badly lit and narrow they were, and their shadows were populated with mysterious and probably dangerous figures. But that was all part of life, and even the shadow people seemed to tolerate her. 

Then something changed. She felt her body twisting, shrinking, gaining fur and claws. This wasn’t her normal shapechange however, and it wasn’t a cat she was turning into. She tried to speak, and only strange yipping sounds emerged, and when her tiny hands reached for her head she could feel a pair of large ears and a pointed nose. _I’m a…a kobold?_

By now none of the people looked friendly anymore. They were pointing, crying out, their faces twisted with fear and anger. 

_Have to run…have to get away!_

She ran, stumbling in the unfamiliar kobold form, dodging between people and stalls, even running between legs as the opportunities presented themselves. Hands were reaching for her, grasping, hurting. 

_NO!_

She was caught, her short legs flailing helplessly in the air as she tried to twist free. 

SEE DAUGHTER? Her sire’s voice was loud and triumphant. THEY ALL KNOW YOU FOR WHAT YOU ARE. A MONSTER. 

_No! I am not a monster!_

NO? I AM SURE THE MAN YOU KILLED RECENTLY WOULD DISAGREE. 

_It wasn’t like that!_

BUT IT WAS. AND SEE, THE PEOPLE CAN SENSE IT. THEY KNOW YOU. MURDERER. BEAST. THE MONSTER OF THE DARK. ACCEPT IT, YOU CANNOT RUN FROM IT. 

_I can! I will!_

YOU CANNOT. OBSERVE HOW THEY MAKE YOUR LESSER EVIL GROW INTO A GREATER ONE. 

Now she was changing form again, growing, far past her normal size. The fur receded, leaving green and warty skin behind, as large tusks protruded from her suddenly jutting jaw. The man who had been holding her screamed and backed off. _Now what…an ogre?_

Bewildered, Zaerini tried to push the crowd away from her. People fell to the ground, some of them bleeding, some still and quiet as her too great strength was let loose. 

DO YOU UNDERSTAND, DAUGHTER? THERE IS NO ESCAPE. THEY CREATE THE MONSTER THEY IMAGINE YOU TO BE, AND THEY WILL MAKE YOU KILL THEM AGAIN, AND AGAIN, AND AGAIN. ACCEPT YOUR HERITAGE, ONLY THEN CAN YOU DRAW STRENGTH FROM IT. 

_NO! Leave me alone! You don’t want to help me; you just want to use me. Just like Reiltar did._

USE YOU? DEAR DAUGHTER, I MERELY WISH TO AID YOU IN YOUR COMMENDABLE SEARCH FOR KNOWLEDGE. WHY LET THESE LITTLE PEOPLE HARASS YOU LIKE THIS? YOU CAN DEAL WITH MUCH EASIER IN ANOTHER FORM. SUCH AS THIS ONE. 

Now she was growing again, growing and growing at an alarmingly fast pace. She was already towering over the rooftops, and she wasn’t showing signs of stopping any time soon. Her neck was elongating as well, shooting out like a telescope, and a veritable forest of sword-like teeth were emerging in her mouth. Turning around she noticed her scaly red hide and long spiky tail. _Bet Sarevok would love this outfit…this is insane! I can’t be a dragon!_ Even as she exhaled to say this, a long gust of flame shot forth, setting fire to one of the rooftops. 

_Oh no! What have I done?_

Frantically she tried to put the fire out, but this only resulted in her gigantic paw smashing the roof to pieces. Far below her tiny people were running about like ants, screaming as they fled for their lives. The sight of it made her want to cry. 

DAUGHTER, THIS IS YOUR DESTINY. YOU ARE FAR ABOVE THESE OTHERS, AND THEY WILL NEVER ACCEPT YOU. THE ONES WHO DO NOT HATE YOU WILL CERTAINLY FEAR YOU, AND YOU CANNOT HELP BUT BRING MURDER WITH YOU WHEREVER YOU GO. IT IS BRED IN YOUR VERY BONES AND BLOOD. ACCEPT IT, ACCEPT ME, AND I WILL TEACH YOU HOW TO CONTROL THE POWER YOU HOLD. PERHAPS THEN YOU WILL AT LEAST BE CAPABLE TO KEEP FROM HARMING YOUR FRIENDS. 

_I won’t harm them! I would NEVER do that!_

YOU WILL. PROPER USE OF YOUR HERITAGE IS THE ONLY THING THAT WILL SHIELD YOU FROM THE CONSEQUENCES OF IMPROPER USE. 

_Is that what you told my brother to make him serve you? Or was it some other false promise? You lie, and I won’t serve you._

YOU WILL. WILLINGLY OR NOT, YOUR VERY EXISTENCE WILL SERVE ME. IT IS YOUR CHOICE TO BENEFIT FROM IT OR NOT. 

Then Rini felt a light tugging at the edge of her mind. Blinking, she turned her head to spot the black cat sitting on top of a tall chimney. _He lies, kitten_ , Softpaws said. _There are other ways. I can show you, if you want me to._

_Yes. Show me._

Now the familiar’s mind came closer to her own, much closer. There was the feeling of mental paws gently nudging her, forming a path within her mind. 

_Yes_ , Rini thought. _I see it now. I don’t have to be the kobold, or the ogre, or the dragon, no matter what people try to make me into. There is always another choice. I will not be a monster._

The dragon shape melted away, freeing her mind from its confines. And then she…flickered. 

_Flicker._

She was an old woman, wrinkled and white-haired, her back bent but still strong. 

_Flicker._

A tiny girl with dark pigtails, and a gap-toothed smile. 

_Flicker._

A young man, tall and skinny, as awkward on his long legs as a newborn colt. 

_Flicker._

A noblewoman, with a haughty face, carrying her nose in the air. 

_Flicker._

A muscular thug, with fists that could crack skulls like nuts. 

_Flicker._

A rotund baker, carrying a large tray of sweet-smelling pastries. 

_Flicker._

An elven woman, wielding her sword like an extension of her own body. 

_Flicker._

A gnomish wizard, grinning with delight as magic shot from his fingertips. 

_Flicker._

Finally, she was herself. Zaerini took a deep breath and pushed her bright red hair out of her eyes. So many people…she had seen them all, had been them all, and the crowd hadn’t reacted negatively in any way. Actually, it still didn’t. Once again, she was a person in their eyes. Not a monster. 

“Do you see that, ‘Father’?” Rini cried out. “You are wrong! I will be free, and I will make my own choices. And I choose to be me, now and forever, and not your puppet.”

LITTLE FOOL! The voice within her mind was thunderous and filled with rage. DO YOU REALLY THINK SAREVOK WILL LET YOU BE? YOU STILL HAVE TO FACE HIM, AND HE LISTENS WHERE YOU DO NOT.

“Oh, I know that. But you see, that’s his weakness, not mine. And maybe ‘Father’…maybe I can still pick him out of your pocket. Wouldn’t that be a nice trick?” 

The voice of Bhaal receded into the faint buzzing of an infuriated wasp, and Zaerini sat up with a brief gasp, wide-awake. The dream was gone, but something within her…had changed. She could sense it, buried deep within her soul. 

_Don’t worry, kitten_ , Softpaws said. The cat jumped onto her lap, rubbing up against her. _He will keep trying, but you are strong enough to stand against him._

_I hope so. Yes, I think you’re probably right, but I can’t relax too much. As you say, he will keep trying. And then there is Sarevok. Bhaal was right about that. Soon, really soon, I will have to face my brother._

_Do you fear that you will be unable to defeat him?_

_Well, he’s a really huge guy with muscles like rocks and a great big sword, so yeah, I do. But…you know…I also fear that I will be able to defeat him. If I could have things my way…then neither of us would be pushed around by Bhaal. That only brings disaster. Maybe I won’t be able to make Big Brother see that. But somehow…I still have to try._

_In the City of Baldur’s Gate…_

“Monty, do you think I should get married?”

The question, spoken in a dreamy, even sentimental voice, made Montaron choke on his beer and spit it all over the bar of the Blushing Mermaid, not to mention over a very large and very irritable half-orc sitting next to him. The half-orc, not particularly pleased about this, did his best to take Montaron’s head off with a large double-bladed axe, and he didn’t settle down until the wily halfling stabbed him through the kidney and then proceeded to jump up on the bar and cut his throat. After that, the spilt beer was a minor consideration compared to the spilt blood. Many of the other customers grumbled quite a bit about that. 

Montaron sat down heavily on his stool, wiping his sweaty face. “I’m not sure I heard ye correctly, wizard,” he said. “Did ye say ‘married’?” 

Xzar nodded happily, a wide grin cleaving his grotesquely tattooed face in two. The wizard was leaning against the bar, sipping a strange green drink that gave off puffs of smoke now and then. It had eyeballs in it. Montaron wasn’t a sensitive or easily offended person, but he didn’t want to know what kind of eyeballs they were, or whom they had previously belonged to, and he had steadfastly declined to taste, claiming that he didn’t like food to stare back at him. Xzar’s thick brown hair was messy as usual, and his eyes glittered with insane energy and dark passions. 

“Married?” Montaron repeated in a flat voice. “Not possible. There can’t possibly be any woman in the world crazy enough to fall for ye!” 

“Oh Monty, now you’re being mean! Isn’t he mean, Abduh?”

“Urrrrgh,” the zombie agreed. He was sitting on the other side of Xzar, happily slurping embalming fluid from one of those children’s mugs with two ears on. There was a large and empty space of several chairs between him and the next customer. 

“See?” Xzar beamed. “Abduh agrees with me. He thinks I will find True Love.” 

“Oh sure,” Montaron snorted, shaking his head. “If you want advice on women, who else to turn to but the rotting zombie? What brought this up, anyway?” 

It was difficult to tell beneath all the tattoos, but it looked as if Xzar was actually blushing. “Well, I was out talking Abduh for a walk when I heard some people talking about how Entar Silvershield had been gruesomely murdered. Cut to pieces they said, blood all over the place.” He winked. “Did you know that blood can be smelled all over the planes? Above and beyond, and behind and below…especially below. The little man who lives in my sock-drawer told me that.” 

Montaron felt as if his head were spinning, a not uncommon sensation when trying to carry on a conversation with Xzar. “Sock-drawer? We’re dangerous mercenaries, living on the road. Ye don’t have a sock-drawer!”

Xzar looked momentarily confused. “Really? I suppose that explains why I never seem to find any clean socks then. Perhaps it was the dragon that told me then. Or the rabbits.” His eyes rolled back into his head. “The rabbits! THE RABBITS! Oh, they are the great deceivers, they are, with their fluffy fur and their evil little twitchy noses, but I know the truth. They will…they call you on the Crystal Ball when you’re having dinner and…and try to interview you about different brands of soap!” He grasped Montaron by the collar and shook the halfling violently enough to make his teeth chatter. “They have their dirty paws into everything! Like high fashion! Did you think it was coincidence that it always looks like it comes from the Lower Planes? It’s all part of the plan.” His voice suddenly calmed down. “Oh, and they want to devour our screaming souls of course. That’s pretty much standard.” 

“What,” Montaron said, grinding his teeth, “does this have to do with marriage?” 

“Marriage?”

“Urrrrgh?”

“Marriage! Like you said you were thinking about, you daft…”

“There’s no need to shout, Monty, I’m not death.” Xzar drummed his fingers against his glass, and then proceeded to delicately pick up an eyeball and swallow it whole. Even the murderous-looking thugs sitting by the corner table in the shadows winced. “Or deaf, for that matter. Really, you seem very high-strung.” 

“I AM NOT HIGH-STRUNG!”

“Urrrgh?”

“No, Abduh, I don’t know why he’s so upset either,” Xzar said. He kindly patted Montaron on the head, causing the halfling to turn purple with rage. “It’s very simple, if you’ll just try to concentrate for once. Duke Entar had a daughter, a girl called Skie. I saw her at the graveyard, giving a speech at her father’s funeral. I was there to try to pick up some…ah…spell components.” He smiled. “Very pretty, and a noble too, just like me. And a lovely voice. So, I asked her out.” 

Montaron clutched the bar, afraid that he might fall off his stool if he let go. “You…asked a girl out…at her father’s funeral?”

Xzar nodded. “Why, of course! What better time to do so? She could do with some cheering up, I told her.”

“You…you told her…” 

The wizard frowned. “Only then she punched me in the face, and Abduh had to give me the kiss of life.” 

“Urrrrgh!” 

“Yes Abduh,” Xzar said, tossing the zombie an eyeball as it beamed proudly at its master. “You were a _very_ good boy.” 

Montaron was making an effort not to be sick. It wasn’t easy. “And…and then what happened?”

“Well, when I woke up the pretty girl was gone.” Xzar sighed. “I suppose she wasn’t interested. She even seemed offended.”

“Offended…”

“It may have had something to do with Abduh trying to open the coffin.”

“Urrrrghh….”

“Yes, I know you were hungry, poor boy. You’d think she could have shared. It’s not as if Duke Entar could use his bones anymore.” Xzar shrugged cheerfully. “Never mind. I’m sure I’ll find the right girl one day. Somebody who is clever…ambitious…ruthless…passionate…”

“Insane…”

“No, no! Creatively thinking! And preferably good with zombies.”

“Urrrrgh!” 

“Yes, Abduh. She’d have to get along with you, of course. Daddy wouldn’t leave his good boy behind!” The wizard pinched the zombie’s cheek, smiling a rather silly smile. 

Montaron sighed. “Oh, I give up. Speaking of rumors, I heard some news myself. Sarevok is very likely to become the next Grand Duke. The nobles fawn all over him, what with all these rumors about an upcoming war against Amn.” 

“Sarevok…Sarevok…who was that again, Monty?”

Montaron very slowly counted to ten. Then he counted to ten again, since the first time wasn’t enough. “Sarevok just happens to be the person we’re supposed to kill for interfering with our superiors’ plans. Big. Tall. Glowing eyes. Booming voice. Spiky armor. Remember?”

“Of course I remember!” Xzar giggled. “Silly Monty, you haven’t forgotten who Sarevok is, have you? Such a nice armor he has…with lots and lots of spikes…mmm…lovely spikes.”

“Urrrrgh!” 

“Yes Abduh, I know you want one too. We’ll see what we can do.” Xzar smiled happily. “You know, if I wasn’t a wizard, I would be a warrior, and then I’d have an armor just like that. It would be perfect to impale the rabbits on when they come charging up to kill me.”

“Yes, yes, yes. Never mind the armor. We need to figure out a way to kill him, and soon!”

“URRRGGGHHH!”

Xzar shook his head. “No Abduh. I don’t think you engaging him in a wrestling match would be a good idea. I just stitched your arm back on again yesterday, remember?”

“Urrrrgh?” the zombie said, a pleading look on his gray face. 

“No Abduh. I don’t think beating him to death with your arm would work either. He has that nifty armor, remember? With the spikes…the lovely spikes…” Then Xzar’s face brightened. “Monty, it’s so simple! As simple as the simple fact that the beams from the passing flying elephants create mysterious geometrical shapes in the fields, whose shapes exactly match those of the height of the Temple of Cyric divided by 147. Perfectly logical.”

“What is?” Montaron sighed. Not for the first time he wished that he’d been teamed up with another member of the Zhentarim. Any other member, really. Even Old Codger, who was both blind and senile, but tended to be happy as long as he was well fed and got to listen in to a torture session now and then. 

“Well, we must be very sneaky and tricky, yes? We should get some help.” 

Montaron slammed his mug into the bar, feeling highly insulted. “Hey! I happen to be the sneaky and tricky person around here!”

“Urrrgh, urrrgh!”

“What are you snickering about, dead meat?”

“URRRRRRGHHHHH!” 

Montaron gasped for air, feebly trying to remove Abduh’s fingers from around his throat as the zombie glared murderously at him. 

Xzar looked regretful. “Now you’ve upset him, Monty. Say you’re sorry.”

“Y-yes…*choke*…sorry…*gasp*…very sorry.” 

“Urrrrgh.” 

“Much better!” Xzar beamed as Montaron dropped to the ground with a loud thump. “All friends again. But as I was saying, you’re really better at the ruthless killing bit, aren’t you, Monty? No, I say we should ask the other one, the tricky redhead.”

“What? Zaerini?”

”Urrrrgh?”

“Oh, she will be here,” Xzar confidently stated. “If Sarevok is here, so will she be. And she’s nice and helpful, I’m sure she’ll help us out if we ask nicely, and then we can all be friends forever and ever!” He smiled cheerfully. “Won’t that be nice?”

“Urrrrgh” Abduh said, looking extremely dejected as he stared into his embalming fluid. 

And for once, Montaron was of the exact same opinion as the zombie. ‘Nice’ did not come into it. Besides, what could that girl do that couldn’t be handled by a few good Zhents? Well, a few Zhents. All right, by two Zhents with a very bad track record as far as important missions were concerned, as well as by a pet zombie. _Come to think of it, maybe we do need her help._

_In the woods near Candlekeep…_

“Oh look!” Zaerini said, smiling. “There’s that big oak we used to climb when we were little, Immy, do you remember? The one that was the home of our secret club?”

Imoen smiled at the tree and patted its gnarled and mossy trunk tenderly. “Good old Mr Fuzzy…I’ve sort of missed him.” 

“Mr Fuzzy?” Edwin said, sounding both incredulous and nauseated. 

“That was Immy’s idea,” Rini hastily added. “She nagged me until I agreed.” 

The pink-haired thief winked at her best friend. “Nope, you agreed because you knew I was right. He is a big old Fuzzy! Aren’t you, Mr Fuzzy?”

Edwin sighed. “As if the druid wasn’t all the tree-talking person we ever needed. (If she starts spouting nonsense about ‘balance’ I may just open up the trunk of this monster and seal her inside.)” At his words, the tree shuddered threateningly, and a shower of acorns painfully struck his head. “All right, all right!” the wizard hastily added. “I realize you have your limits too.”

“Actually,” Jaheira said with a small smirk, “this tree happens to be unusually sentient. Probably the result of some long-ago battle between reckless wizards.” 

The party had made their way out of the Candlekeep catacombs without much difficulty, the long and boring tunnels getting on their nerves but doing no real harm. Even the basilisks they had encountered in a cave hadn’t proved too troublesome once Edwin sent a cloud of poison gas inside to choke them off and force them into attacking directly rather than from a distance with their lethal gaze. 

Then, they had encountered a lost bounty hunter near the exit, still searching for some of his missing comrades and mistaking Rini and her friends for them. How he could do that, given that the half-elf’s description must have been spread to most of Sarevok’s employees, she really didn’t understand. She guessed her brother simply was unlucky when it came to hiring the right sort of people. The bounty hunter’s mistake provided her with some information though. Sarevok was going north again, back to Baldur’s Gate. She would have to go after him of course. She knew that much. 

_What will I do when I do catch up with him though?_ She still didn’t have the answer to that question, as much as she had pondered it. And was it a wise move to go directly to Baldur’s Gate? The Flaming Fist would no doubt be looking for her, seeking to arrest her for Reiltar’s murder. These questions and many more kept running through her mind as she walked through the woods where she had played as a child, and the familiar tree had been a very pleasant distraction indeed. 

“What was the club named, anyway?” Edwin said, giving the oak a very suspicious look across his shoulder. 

Rini felt her cheeks coloring a little. “Ah…that’s not important.”

_Go on, kitten_ , Softpaws said. _Tell him. Or do you want me to do it?_

_All right, all right! I’ll tell him._ “It was called…er…’Fiery Females’. See, we had this period when we wanted to pretend we were drow, and we tried to make a tentacle rod to use on Abduh and…” She blushed further at the amused faces meeting her. “Gorion caught us trying to convince Lloth the Spider Queen to turn Abduh into a drider. He forbade us to play stuff like that. So naturally…”

“…you decided to do it out here instead,” Edwin said, his dark eyes sparkling with amusement and affection. “That would seem to be the logical course of action.” He paused. “I actually had a secret club myself. With secret language, and secret handshakes and secret anthem.”

“Oh? What was your secret club called then?”

“The ‘Edwin Odesseiron Society of Admiration, Devotion and Worship of his utter Brilliance and Magnificence’,” Edwin said. “I was Chairman, High Overleader and Supreme Being of it.”

“And did you have many other members?” Yeslick asked. 

“No, just me. But that was all right, otherwise I would have had to share the power after all.” 

_That is so typical Eddie_ , Zaerini thought, smiling. She felt happier than she had in days. _And…it’s absolutely and totally adorable._ “Actually,” she said, smiling up at Edwin and patting his cheek, “you may count me in as your second member.” 

The way that the wizard blushed as red as his robe was really quite sweet, she thought. 

As the adventurers settled down to camp that night Zaerini sat down on the ground, her legs crossed beneath her. It had been a while since she last consulted her cards, and she had the feeling that now was a good time to do so. _I must prepare for my brother. In any way that I can._

Her friends watched quietly as she shuffled the deck, their faces worried. Then she focused, concentrating on the cards as she drew them out of the deck. _Show me what I need to know, and what is to come. I want to know what will be in my close future, and also what to do about it, if possible._

Then she turned the cards over and watched them closely. 

The Ace of Swords came first.

Then there was the Knight of Swords, flanked by the Wizard of Swords and the Queen of Swords. 

Then the Knight of Swords again, and the Bard, with Death between them and the Archmage nearby. 

The Wizard of Coin, alone. 

And then, the final card of the reading. The Void. 

Not blinking, the half-elf’s golden eyes stared intently at the cards. _Focus. Focus…_ She could feel them growing inside her mind now, taking on life and form. Then, the forest glade she had been sitting in was gone, and she was somewhere else entirely. 

She was once again on a dark and empty plain, the sky an endless black void above her, without the slightest stirring of wind. 

The Ace of Swords hung before her, but it was not exactly a sword. It was a dagger, spinning slowly in midair, light gleaming off its sharp blade, the dark pommel gem pulsating and beating like a diseased heart. 

_I…I recognize that dagger_ , Zaerini thought. In fact, it was stuffed inside her pack at this very moment, as it had been since she had found it in Durlag’s Tower, deep in the Death Knight’s lair. Though she hadn’t used it yet, she had hung onto it for some reason, being unwilling to part with it. There was something about the black light of that gem…almost like a living presence. She hadn’t been able to discover any enchantments on the blade but kept thinking that there was still something to be found, something lurking beneath the surface, and so she didn’t want to give it up. 

“My time has come,” spoke a faint, metallic and whispering voice, and somehow the bard knew that it was the blade that had spoken. “I must be brought home. Do it, and you shall be rewarded.” 

“Rewarded? How?”

“You will be made to discover what you need to know, something of great importance. I am the key to unlocking that secret. But first, you must bring me home.” 

“Hmm,” Rini said, pulling her hand through her flame-red hair. “All right. I’ll think about it. Where is your home?” 

The dagger started spinning faster and faster. Then it hurled through the air and impaled itself into the ground at her feet. As the half-elf jumped backwards, startled, she noticed that the ground had changed from the surrounding black and dry sand into a finely detailed map of the Sword Coast. Every tiny village and hamlet, every road and path were visible. She could see little treetops swaying in the wind at her feet, as if seen from a great height, and what looked like a toy ship out at sea. The dagger was stuck in the middle of a village to the north-east of Baldur’s Gate. Next to it, the name ‘Ulgoth’s Beard’ was neatly written in bold black letters. 

“Bring me home, Child of Bhaal,” the dagger repeated, its voice growing fainter. “You will not regret it.” 

Zaerini did not answer, instead bending to pick the weapon up. Then she yanked her fingers back with a surprised curse. The hilt was hot to the touch, so hot that it burned her. Then, even as she was blowing on her fingers, she saw the weapon dissolve into an inky shadow that rose into the air and disappeared from sight. 

Now, she moved. The next three Cards were before her, in a motionless tableau. The Knight of Swords stood there, Sarevok in his familiar dark and spiky armor, a towering shape of unadulterated menace, sword raised in a threatening gesture. He was not alone though. 

To his right stood a wizard, a man in a dark robe, who was watching him apprehensively. His face was gaunt, and etched with lines of pain, his eyes hollow as if all joy had long since passed from his world. _Wizard of Swords. I’ve seen him before – I wonder who he is?_

To his left, there was a woman, a woman that Rini thought she recognized. She was slender, but seemed strong all the same, and wielded her slim sword with lethal grace, her black braid tossed over one shoulder. Dark and inscrutable eyes met those of the half-elf without blinking. _That would be the Queen of Swords. I…I know her, don’t I? She’s the one I saw in that dream I had after Ulcaster. And…and she’s the one who was with Sarevok that day. The day when Gorion was killed._

“What have you come to tell me?” the half-elf said, hoping that she sounded bolder than she felt. 

“He is slipping away from us,” the wizard said, his voice dull with pain. “Soon, he will be lost entirely, and that is weakening him, though he knows it not.”

“We have tried,” the swordswoman said, shaking her head. “He will not listen. He does not understand what is happening. In the end, he may slay us both rather than hear us out.”

“And yet we continue,” the wizard said. “We have no choice, as we love him.” 

“It may help you to know,” the woman said, “that he, too, is capable of loving and of being loved.” Then a shadow of sadness crossed her face. “Or at least, he was. Also, remember what I told you before. There will come a day when he must be on your side, or you will surely perish. He may be lost – but he can still be redeemed. You must attempt that, for your sake as well as his.” 

Sarevok didn’t seem to hear any of the comments being made. He simply kept staring emptily in front of him, as if listening to some inner voice. Rini had the uncomfortable feeling that she knew exactly what voice that was. 

The wizard and the swordswoman faded away into the shadows, and now she was directly opposite her brother, taking the place of the Bard. Beside her was a misty shape, robed and hooded, wielding a staff. The Archmage. Between her and Sarevok was another presence, a dark and malevolent one, one stinking of open graves and drying blood crawling with flies. Death. Bhaal.

“Sarevok?” Zaerini tried. “Brother? I think we should talk.” She paused. “I…wanted to kill you before. But now…I’d rather not. Do we really have to do this? Is there no other way?” 

Sarevok’s eyes were still empty, though glittering with golden fire. 

HE CANNOT HEAR YOU. I AM WITH HIM EVERY MOMENT, DAY OR NIGHT. I FILL HIM ALMOST ENTIRELY. AS LONG AS I AM, YOU WILL NEVER REACH HIM. 

Rini felt her face twisting into a snarl. “Leave him alone, ‘Father’. It is my brother I want to speak to. Not you.”

Bhaal’s laughter pounded like a thunderstorm in her ears. BUT HE IS I NOW. SAREVOK HIMSELF…IS LOCKED FAR INSIDE, UNABLE TO GET OUT. OBSERVE. OBSERVE WHOM HE WILL LISTEN TO. 

Suddenly, Sarevok’s burning eyes noticed her, and he roared with rage, charging towards her. Reflexively, she raised her hand, feeling magic shoot out of it towards the armored figure in front of her. Beside her, the Archmage did the same, enveloping Sarevok with a nimbus of hazy light. That spell…what is it?

She hadn’t expected it to work. Not really. But Sarevok screamed with sudden pain, and then he was falling, crashing to the ground like a felled tree. Within seconds he was gone, a cloud of golden dust rising from his empty armor, drifting away into the darkness. _No! There must be another way! There must be!_

There was no answer, simply the next card of the reading. The Wizard of Coin was standing before her, a lone figure wearing red robes. _Is that Edwin? What’s he doing?_ The wizard seemed to be walking down a road, staring morosely at the ground. _He looks so sad…so lost._

Calling out, the half-elf tried to attract the wizard’s attention, but to no avail. Either he did not hear her, or he was pretending not to. Turning his back, he disappeared into the darkness. _What…what does that mean? He cares about me; I know he does. He wouldn’t ignore me like that. He…he isn’t about to die is he?_

Rini would have tried to run after the wizard, but it was too late. The final card was upon her, pressing in on her from all around. The Void, black and empty, as cold as the emptiness between the stars, and just as merciless. It was pulling at her, lashing her body with icy whips, tearing at her soul, making her scream with pain. “Child of Bhaal,” said a voice from the emptiness, a cultured and chillingly dispassionate voice. “I will be expecting you soon. It is time we began our experiments.”


	66. Aec’Letec

**In The Cards 66 – Aec’Letec**

_There are many reasons why demon summoning should only be attempted by properly skilled, prepared, sane, and above all cautious people. The regrettable tendency of said demons to dislike getting summoned enough to want to rip the summoner’s lungs out and use them for party decorations being a very important reason._

_Excerpt from ‘Ruminations Of A Master Bard’_

Ulgoth’s Beard was a small fishing village to the northeast of Baldur’s Gate, and it was here that Zaerini led her friends next. Not just because of her foretelling either. She reasoned that Sarevok would expect her to rush off after him at once, and it would be safer to do whatever he didn’t expect her to do. Also, while still in Baldur’s Gate she had heard from Halbazzer Drin, the proprietor of the Sorcerous Sundries, that the inn of Ulgoth’s Beard had quite a few interesting magical items for sale, more than might be expected in a small village. She wanted to be well prepared when she faced Sarevok and it seemed like a good idea to check them out and restock supplies before returning to Baldur’s Gate. Particularly since she would most likely be wanted for Reiltar’s murder and unable to peacefully walk about shopping. 

Her friends had readily agreed to this. There had been something very odd about Edwin’s reaction though. The wizard had asked how many days she thought had passed since leaving Baldur’s Gate, and how many days she thought it would take to go directly back without delay. Upon hearing the answer, he had looked away, and his face had become momentarily closed. “Then…I agree,” he said. “It makes no difference to me. (It is too late anyway. I cannot turn back. The road is closed behind me.)”

She had attempted to ask him what the matter was, but he would give no proper answers, and eventually she had to give up. Or at least to put the matter aside for the moment. The bard gave Edwin another worried glance as they approached Ulgoth’s Beard, the tenth one in as many minutes. The wizard was being unusually quiet, and he was constantly touching the amulet he carried around his throat with his immaculately manicured fingers. She hadn’t paid much attention to it before, but now she saw that it had a gem at the center, a ruby so dark that it was almost black, and there seemed to be writing around it, though the words were unfamiliar to her. Deep within the gem, she thought she could see a tiny flicker of bright flame. “What is that?” she asked. “It’s really beautiful.”

Edwin startled, and let the amulet disappear inside his robe. “It…was supposed to bring me luck,” he said. For a moment he seemed to be looking at something far in the distance, his eyes filled with longing. “It was a gift. A gift of maturity.” 

“Oh. I see. From your family?” 

The wizard didn’t look her in the eyes. “Yes. I mean no. In a way. I…I really do not wish to discuss this further. It’s personal.” 

Rini nodded. “All right,” she said. “I won’t pry.” Then she took his hand and squeezed it gently. “But you know, Eddie…when you do want to talk about it I’ll always be happy to listen.” 

Edwin smiled briefly, and some of the old fire returned to his eyes. “Thank you, Hellkitten,” he said. “Of course, I, being a skilled wizard of devastating genius, am perfectly able to deal with any troubles that may arise. But if I should, for some unfathomable reason, need aid with something, you will definitely be the first to know.” 

Ulgoth’s Beard seemed a pleasant little place, with its low houses and fresh sea air. That is, it seemed like a pleasant little place right up until the point where the group of people with the fixed smiles, glassy eyes and sharp weapons came walking up to Rini and her friends. Some of them were wearing swords and armor, others mage robes. There were a few common themes in their apparel though. For one thing, all of them were carrying around prayer beads, but the beads were all shaped like little skulls. Then there was the symbol they all had painted in blood on their foreheads. Zaerini wasn’t sure exactly what it was supposed to be, but simply looking at it made her skin crawl. The ugly face that they all had embroidered on their chests or the backs of their cloaks was also enough to give her nightmares. It looked a bit like the offspring of an octopus and a horse that had died months ago, with a hint of rotting rabbit thrown in for good measure. It also had glowing red eyes. Their clothes were also liberally decorated with mystical symbols matching the one on their foreheads, as well as with sequins. Lots and lots and lots of sequins. _Gods, they have worse dress sense than Sarevok._

“Oh good,” Rini said, “a secret cult. I always wonder how they expect to stay secret with all those blatantly obvious recognition signs and symbols.” 

One of the cultists stepped up to her, his unblinking eyes fixed on her, his smile very wide. “Your souls shall be fodder,” he said in a pleasant voice by way of greeting. 

In the background the other cultists hummed with delight and chanted ‘Ommmmm….’

“And hello to you too,” Rini said, shaking her head. “Looks like we’ve stumbled onto another gathering of crazies…” 

Edwin smirked. “For some reason, I get the impression that these aren’t the type of cultists that will be satisfied with trying to sell us paper flowers for outrageous sums of money while chanting about the oneness of all. (But on the upside, that means we get to kill them in an appropriately gruesome manner, and I could do with some cheering up.)”

Jaheira glared darkly at the cultists. “Stand aside,” she commanded. “We do not have the time for this sort of foolishness.” 

The leader still didn’t blink. “Foul heathens,” he said, still in that pleasant voice. “You are the ones who have retrieved the dagger ‘Soultaker’ from Durlag’s Tower. Our visions have shown it to us. You must give me the dagger now, or you will be sacrificed for the glory of our rising god.” 

“C-come now,” Khalid protested. “Isn’t there a w-way we can resolve this without threats of physical v-violence?”

The cultist shook his head. “No. You will give us the dagger, or we will make your blood run like rivers, feast upon the tender jellies of your eyes, make sausages of your intestines, holy tomes of your skin and grind your bones to dust. And that is just the beginning of the Evening Service. Then we will make Sister Eugenia sing the Holy Chants to your broken spirits, and let me tell you, that woman is painfully tone-deaf. The dagger if you please.” 

“Gee,” Rini said in a thoughtful voice. “I have to think about this.” She took out the dagger from Durlag’s Tower, letting the light of the setting sun reflect in the dark pommel jewel. The hilt felt unusually heavy in her hand, heavy and warm like a living thing. “You want me to give you this, or you’ll torture and kill us, is that it?”

“Yes! Give it to me now!”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes, yes, YES!”

“As you wish then.” With that, the redheaded half-elf quickly thrust her hand forward and buried the dagger to the hilt in the man’s belly. With a normal weapon it would have been a painful and potentially lethal wound, but not an instantly deadly one. However, hardly had the cultist begun to scream before the bleeding wound started smoking violently, the skin shriveling and blackening around it. The shrieks turned faint as the dying man slumped to the ground, smoke by now pouring out of his mouth and nostrils as well. 

Zaerini didn’t have many seconds to stare at the result of her blow. The other cultists shrieked with rage and charged her, and in a moment, all was chaos around her, the smell of blood strong in her nostrils as the battle raged. She sent a flame arrow into the face of a cultist mage trying to chant a spell, then had to duck a mace swung by an armored warrior. She was vaguely aware of Yeslick’s hammer smashing in the head of a man trying to impale her on a spear, of Jaheira and Khalid fighting back to back close by her and of Imoen trying to get behind them where she could safely fire her arrows. Swarms of glowing red orbs shot from Edwin’s fingers, sparkling and hissing, as the Red Wizard attempted to keep the enemy wizards from successfully casting their spells. She turned to aid him, and then there was a sharp and burning pain at her side, as a stone-faced man in leather armor lunged at her from behind. 

Fighting to draw breath, the bard tried to get her sword out, but the pain was too bad. And then, something deep within her shifted and awakened. She could feel her face…melting? Transforming certainly, taking on the aspect of another. It was the face of her opponent, a perfect resemblance, down to the holy symbol on her forehead. Faced with his own image, the man took a step backwards in surprise, giving Rini the time she needed in order to retaliate. A Magic Missile of her own struck the cultist, and as he staggered away, he was neatly skewered on Khalid’s great sword. 

Rini sat on the ground, wincing not so much from the pain of the wound Jaheira was healing as from the steady stream of scolding streaming from the druid’s mouth. “Reckless…foolhardy…suicidal…”

“Look Jaheira, they would have attacked us anyway!” 

“Hotheaded…unbalanced…as if I do not have better things to do than to patch you up after your little stunts!” 

“They wanted the dagger, they meant to kill us with or without it. Everything is fine. Stop grouching.” 

“Say,” Imoen suddenly said, halting her search of the corpses. “Speaking of the dagger…where did it go?”

Rini turned her head. The corpse of the cultist leader still lay there, a charred and black mass, but there was no sign of the ‘Soultaker’. “Oh great! Somebody stole it.” 

“One o’ the others,” Yeslick said, scratching his blond beard. “One or two got away.” 

“This is serious,” Jaheira said, her green eyes stern. “These people meant to summon some sort of evil entity with that dagger. We should put a stop to it.” 

“This would be the ugly thing whose picture they were all wearing?” Edwin asked. “The one with all the dangling bits, and the horns, and the red eyes? The one that looked like some sort of incredibly dangerous demon from the deepest layers of the Abyss? (Come to think of it, it also bore a close resemblance to Aunt Elfrida. Except with more teeth.)”

Jaheira nodded. “That would be the one, yes.” 

The wizard’s eyes practically glowed with excitement. “Perfect!” he crowed. “I’ve always wanted to partake in a demon summoning. This is a great opportunity to learn how to properly harness the dark powers of the Nether Realms. (I am ready. I know it.)”

Jaheira looked wildly incredulous. “You…you want to see a demon summoned?”

“Of course!” Edwin looked himself over, apparently satisfied with what he saw. “Good thing I got that new robe. It wouldn’t do to be underdressed for the occasion. Though of course I am always magnificent, charming and devilishly handsome even was I dressed in rags, and fairly oozing charm and devastating charisma.”

_Kitten_ , Softpaws said as she gave Edwin a look that matched Jaheira’s, _you’d better keep an eye on him. He’s acting even sillier than usual._

_I know_ , Rini said, her eyes filled with warmth as she watched the wizard preening. _Isn’t it adorable?_

“I suppose we’d better go and steal that dagger back,” she said out loud. 

“Yeah,” Imoen said. “We can’t let those people use it to do bad stuff!”

“I suppose…and I really don’t like people robbing me, you know.” 

Finding the cultists’ secret headquarters turned out to be surprisingly easy. It seemed that every single inhabitant of Ulgoth’s Beard knew exactly where they were located. Not that surprising once you really thought about it, Rini thought, given the cultists’ taste for flashy apparel. Before entering, she tried out the new trick she had learnt while using the essence of Bhaal within her. She could imitate the looks of people she had seen before, she found, though there were certain limits. For example, she might look like a strong man, but it was only his looks that she got, not the physical strength. And she could only imitate humanoids, and only for a short while. If she tried to keep it up for more than a few minutes she got a dreadful headache, and eventually lost control of it. Still, it was a handy skill to have, and she might be able to increase it later on. 

Right now, she used it to once again look like a cultist, something that helped take the fanatics inside by surprise. The battle was fierce, but eventually all the cultists lay dead. The house was mostly bare of furniture, but there was a stairway in one corner, leading down into a dark basement, and from below she could hear the penetrating sound of chanting. “So,” Zaerini said. “Let’s go see what this party is all about…” 

The stairs leading into the cellar seemed much longer than they should have been, Zaerini thought. They were dark, as might be expected, but they were too dark, too dark for even her half-elven eyes to see properly. She had to hold on to the wall in order not to slip, and it was cold and slippery beneath her fingers, and covered with cobwebs. And it felt somehow…wrong. As if it wasn’t mere stone and mortar she was touching, but the scales and flesh of some hideous beast. There were smells in the air as well. Damp, and mold. Smoke, and sizzling fat. And a sweet and familiar smell, leaving a faint taste of copper in her mouth. Blood. It drew her on, that smell, attracting the part of her that was Bhaal. She had to concentrate in order not to lick her lips with anticipation, and that frightened her more than anything. Then there was the sound. A faint, low, throbbing sound, regular and steady. _Like the beating of a heart. A…a very large heart._

She was beginning to seriously wonder what she had gotten herself into, and she could tell that her companions were feeling apprehensive as well. Both Jaheira and Yeslick were quietly murmuring prayers to their respective gods, taking care not to be so loud as to be heard by anybody waiting below. Khalid’s teeth were chattering mightily. Imoen was keeping so close by her best friend that they kept bumping into each other. 

“Really,” Edwin whispered, “you people should not be allowed out without parental guidance if a perfectly ordinary little demon summoning so easily intimidates you. Not that I am surprised. Few enough people can compare to my overwhelming bravery, my cool head and excellent poise in the face of danger, my staggeringly powerful intellect, and the way my unparalleled mortal body is greedily coveted even by the denizens of the Abyss.” He gave Rini a hopeful look. “I hope you are taking notes here.”

The half-elf snorted quietly. “Eddie, if the denizens of the Abyss covet your ‘unparalleled mortal body’ it is probably because they want to snack on it. And I’d rather not see that happening, so can you please concentrate on the task at hand?”

“What about the short version of the list describing my physical and mental perfections? (Just the first 2000 points, I will even skip the Appendixes if she demands it. But I would only do that for her. And then perhaps a practical demonstration…)”

“Later, Eddie. Later.” The bard grinned faintly. “Besides, I’d rather like to discover those points for myself – the ones I haven’t already, that is.” 

That, at least, made Edwin be quiet. On the other hand, he now was walking in a sort of daze, his eyes unfocused, and Khalid and Jaheira had to prop him up so he wouldn’t fall down the stairs.

Finally, the stairs ended, and the companions emerged into a large and round chamber. It was dimly lit by a number of fat and guttering candles, placed on the floor. There was something about the smell of those candles that greatly bothered Rini, though she couldn’t tell what it was. 

_I can, kitten_ , Softpaws said, her voice apprehensive as her lantern-like green eyes glanced up at her mistress. _Those candles…they were made from humans._

_What? You mean…_ Zaerini’s mental voice trailed off as she stared at one of the candles, almost hypnotized by the tallow that trickled down its side. _That…that fat is…_

_Yes. This is a very bad place._

The candles weren’t even the worst of it. There was a large symbol drawn on the floor, vast circle containing a sinuous shape that was pierced by an arrow-like structure. It was nothing Rini recognized, but she did recognize the smell of the red substance that had been used to draw it. Blood. Once again, she felt that terrible eagerness, that quickening of her own blood and of the essence of Bhaal within her. _Back off, ‘Father’. Leave me alone._

Robed figures stood in a circle around the symbol, all of them wearing that same mark painted on their foreheads. Male and female alike, they were in a trance, oblivious to their surroundings as they chanted in low and rolling voices, chanted what sounded unpleasantly like a summoning spell. All except one of them, that was. 

A woman was standing near the edge of the circle, her arms drenched in blood to the elbows from the gutted corpse that lay on the floor by her, no doubt having provided the source material for the nasty floor decoration. “You have come,” she said in a calm voice that contrasted terribly to the hideous scene. “I suppose it was inevitable. You weathered Durlag's Tower, so breaching our meager defenses would be a minor feat. It is of little concern. In a matter of seconds creatures such as you will be powerless before us.”

“The only one who will be powerless is you, unnatural one!” Jaheira said, drawing her scimitar. “Your atrocities will not go unpunished!” 

“We are performing the sacred rites for summoning the great Aec’Letec-may-his-tentacles-be-ever-slimy,” the woman said in that same calm and slightly distant voice. “We will not allow ourselves to be thwarted. Too long has our Lord and Master waited, imprisoned in that dagger. It is time for him to be released, and through his rule we shall gain as well!” 

“No, no, NO!” Edwin said in a loud and disapproving voice, striding out into the middle of the floor. “You are doing this all wrong!” He sounded almost as if he were about to give a lecture as he shook his head at the priestess and gave her a contemptuous look. “Demon’s aren’t supposed to be worshipped! And they definitely aren’t supposed to be lords or masters. You are supposed to summon them, make them do as they’re told, and then dismiss them. (That is certainly how Mother always does it, and she knows these things.)” 

“I…” the stunned priestess tried. 

Edwin was getting more and more irate by now. “I mean, really!” he said. “Here I look forward to finally seeing a westerner performing more than basic cantrips, too laughably simple for the most unskilled of Thayvian children, and what do I get? Some ridiculous hobby-conjurers playing with finger-paint. (What will be next? Dolls? Skipping games? Or should we all join in a game of tag? ‘Kick the Kidney’, maybe? I seem to see one lying around in that corner…)” 

“Edwin…” Zaerini said, yanking on the wizard’s sleeve.

“Oh!” Edwin said, turning around and looking faintly puzzled. “Yes, I…” He suddenly seemed to think of something. “Casting no shadow over your thaumaturgical accomplishments of course, my Hellkitten.” 

“Eddie, that is not what I meant…”

“Then what?”

Zaerini pointed at the middle of the ritual circle, where a hideous creature was just emerging from a sickly yellow cloud oozing out of the now broken ‘Soultaker’ dagger. Just as its picture worn on the robes of the cultists, it bore a strong resemblance to an octopus. And to a dead horse, and a rabbit with half its face torn off. And those were just the more pleasant similarities. It had plenty of claws, and even more teeth. “That’s what!” the bard said in a pointed voice. 

Edwin turned around to find himself nose to snout with the towering monstrosity. “Oh” he said, slowly backing away. “Yes…I see. Nice…thingy. Good boy. Nice demon…” 

“MUAHAHAHAHAHA!” the priestess laughed. “You can pose all you wish, but you have failed! Here will come the new lord, despite your slogans! Here will come the new lord, despite your puny weapons! Here will come the new lord, Aec'Letec! Let he who was imprisoned walk the prime! The dagger is broken! I release him! Aec’Letec will break your bones and suck their marrow! He will drink your blood and suck out your souls! He will eat your spleens and make ornaments from your bones, which scream with pain whenever they are touched! He will…” 

Chomp. 

The hideous demon curiously reached out a massive arm, picked up the priestess, and idly bit her head off, proceeding to lick its snout as it threw the bleeding body away into a corner. The rest of the cultists remained, still frozen in their trance, seemingly oblivious to what was going on. 

“Clangeddin’s might, be with us!” Yeslick roared, charging towards the demon with his war hammer, his eyes blazing with battle fury. Then he froze in place, instantly paralyzed by the terrible gaze of the demon, which turned towards him, raising its claws to tear him apart. The dwarf was only saved by the fortunate intervention of Khalid launching himself at him and pulling him out of harm’s way. 

Jaheira chanted a spell, freeing the dwarven cleric from his magical inertia, and then joined in the battle, moving like a two-legged she-wolf as she dodged and slashed at the demon with her scimitar. 

Imoen was trying to do her part as well and managed to ram her sword into the creature’s back from behind, only to have it stick in the massive body. Aec’Letec turned around, and idly swatted her aside like a fly, making her hit the wall with a sickening thud. 

“IMMY!” Rini screamed, practically flying across the room towards her friend. The pink-haired thief was still breathing, but she was clearly unconscious. Frantically the bard struggled to get a healing potion out of her pack, the cork huge and unwieldy as she tried to get it out. Finally, she was able to trickle some of the blue fluid into her friend’s throat, and felt a vast rush of relief at seeing Imoen open her eyes, looking extremely confused. 

In the background she could hear Edwin swearing loudly in Thayvian as he fired spell after spell at the demon, hardly causing any damage at all. It seemed that the thing was at least partially impervious to magic.

_Not good. Very much not good_. Having managed to pull Imoen far enough into a corner that she should be out of the demon’s way, Rini rose to join the battle. Magic was obviously going to do little or no good. She was better with her sword than she had been, but no match for a trained warrior. All she could do was to try to aid as much as possible. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of blood and heat, the demon fell. Breathing heavily, the adventurers paused – only to hear the gruesome sound of flesh being torn apart. One of the chanting cultists was literally exploding from within, as the demon possessed him body and soul, reviving itself through him. And so, the battle was begun again, though by now they were all weary and wounded. They would not be able to keep this up for much longer. 

_Must do something else_ , Zaerini thought. _Can’t use magic. Am not good enough with blade. Maybe I can still trick him though. Yes. Let’s see what he thinks of seeing his own game turn against him_. With that, she deliberately drew upon the power of Bhaal, shaping her form and appearance into that of the dead priestess. 

“Aec’Letec, you fool!” she cried out, using the other’s voice. “You cannot slay me! I command you; I conjure and abjure you, and I will cast you out!” 

The demon’s baleful eyes flashed with red fire as they turned on her, drool dripping from what probably was its lips and eating hissing holes in the stone floor. 

_Uh-Oh…_

Then she was running for her life, feeling the hot breath of the demon on her neck, expecting the claws and teeth to close on her neck at any second. She was dimly aware of Khalid rapidly firing arrows at the demon, and of Yeslick and Jaheira letting magical sling bullets fly. For one mad instant she was reminded of that first fight that she and Imoen had had with an ogre, when they had used much the same tactic. Except this was much worse than any ogre of course. 

_Won’t Sarevok be disappointed if I never turn up in Baldur’s Gate_ , she thought as she jumped across the headless corpse of the priestess, barely avoiding slipping in the blood. 

Dimly, she was aware of battle cries, of screams and shouts and something dropping to the floor that could be seen out of the corner of her eye. She couldn’t pay attention to it. She had to run, just run, and keep the demon away from her friends. And then she did trip and fall, and landed heavily on the ground, losing her breath. She was struggling to get up, but her legs didn’t seem to work, and there was a loud roar directly behind her and…

Darkness. Pain. Something very, very heavy, and very, very foul smelling was lying on top of her, almost choking her. _Am I dead? Or have I been buried alive?_

_Kitten?_ Softpaws asked, sounding frantic. _Are you alive?_

_I…guess so. What happened? Where am I? Where is everybody?_

For a second the cat hesitated. _They are all fine. Just a moment. They will soon have you out of there._

_Out of where?_

Then the heavy weight was lifted off of her, and she was gasping for air, her ribs aching with every breath she took. Jaheira was struggling to get her into a sitting position, with a very anxious Edwin hovering over her shoulder. Why was her hair feeling so slimy though? And what had become of…

Then the bard spotted the vast corpse lying close enough to touch and realized just why she smelled so bad. “Aec’Letec…fell on me?” she croaked out. 

“’fraid so,” Imoen said, sounding deeply sympathetic. She seemed to be mostly recovered, though she was still limping a little. “Does it hurt?”

“Only…when I breathe. I think I’ll try to give up that habit.” 

“It was a very close call,” Jaheira said as she and Yeslick started casting their remaining healing spells. “We could not have taken him a third time.” 

“But…all the other cultists? Why didn’t he resurrect himself again?” 

“I killed those,” Edwin said in a very matter-of-fact voice. “They were as great a threat as the demon himself.” Something about the calm way he said it reminded her of something or someone, but she couldn’t quite think what at the moment. Then he was bending over her, a look of deep worry etched on his face. “Are you quite sure you will be well?”

“Sure…I’ll be fine.” Zaerini gave the Red Wizard a faint smile. “I take it you’re not that interested in demon summoning any longer?”

Edwin raised his eyebrows, looking vastly surprised that she could even consider such an idea. “Naturally, I am!” he said. “That woman was an amateur, she was going about things entirely in the wrong way. Now I on the other hand, am a master of magic, a sultan of spellcasters and a king of conjuration. It would be quite inconceivable for me to botch a simple demon summoning in that ludicrous manner. If you like, I will be happy to demonstrate how it should properly be done, if we can only find the spell she used.” Then he noticed the stunned looks on his companions’ faces and looked a little puzzled. “Is there something the matter?”

“No, Eddie,” Zaerini said, reaching up to pat the wizard on the cheek. “Nothing at all.”


	67. Non-triumphant Return

**In The Cards 67 – Non-triumphant Return**

_When faced with unfavorable odds and dangerous enemies, always make a point of seeking out what allies you can. Even the ones whose motives do not entirely coincide with your own may help you greatly, as long as you walk the same road._

_Excerpt from ‘Ruminations Of A Master Bard’_

After the excitement and terror of slaying a ta’nari, the rest of Ulgoth’s Beard quite frankly seemed rather dull, Zaerini thought. There were a few useful magical scrolls and items to be bought at the inn, and she also made sure that she and her friends got all the potions they could carry. Healing, strength, speed, antidote, fireball, and many others. She intended to be fully prepared for her brother. 

There was a very insistent old wizard named Shandalar who kept wandering about the village, nagging her to go fetch his cloak for him. He seemed unable to take ‘no’ for an answer, and eventually the bard lost patience, telling the man that she certainly wasn’t about to let herself get teleported to some unknown location on the other side of Faerun simply in order to pick up a lazy old wizard’s dirty laundry. That finally made him back off, though she also managed to empty his pockets of a great number of interesting spell scrolls that she shared with Edwin. Her magical abilities had certainly increased, she thought. Though she couldn’t match the Red Wizard in the number of spells she could memorize, some of the ones she had cast often she could actually make more powerful than he could. Rini smiled at the memory of how Edwin had sulked for two days after learning that she could cast a bigger Fireball than he could. 

Then there had been that other man, Mendas, the one with the odd accent. He had looked a little strange as well, with extremely bushy eyebrows and shaggy long hair. His job offering had been more promising than Shandalar’s. Just go to Baldur’s Gate, retrieve a few sea charts from some merchants, then go on a brief expedition to find out about the fate of the legendary Balduran himself. Now that was a journey most bards would cheerfully kill to go on, knowing what tales might be spun from it, and she might do it yet. But it would have to wait. She didn’t plan to be sidetracked again. Her brother was waiting for her. 

Zaerini paused in her tracks, looking up at the tall walls of Baldur’s Gate before her. “We must be extremely careful,” she said. “The story of Reiltar’s death will have reached the city by now. The Fist will likely be hunting for us, or at least for me.” 

Jaheira put a supporting hand on her shoulder. “Do not fear, child. We have come this far. We will not be turned back now.” 

“Maybe we could hide out at the Thieves Guild?” Imoen suggested. “The Fist won’t find us there.” Then she paused and blushed slightly. “Only…we’d better save it for a last resort. Adahn warned me not to trust Ravenscar too closely.” She sighed briefly. “I really miss him…I hope he’s all right. Adahn I mean, not Ravenscar.” 

Edwin shivered briefly in the chill night air. “This is getting us nowhere,” he said, his voice tense. “We need some sort of goal before heading in there, we cannot wander the streets randomly.”

Rini nodded. “You’re right. And I do have a goal. It’s just getting there that may be a little tricky. But I have a plan…” 

A short while later the two gate guards keeping watch at the city entrance caught sight of a strange bunch of people. Two armored half-elves, the man smiling nervously and the woman glaring at them like she was waiting for them to shrivel up like dried leaves. Then there was a dwarf who carried a hammer across his shoulder, one that was almost as tall as he was. A Red Wizard sneered contemptuously at them, while a young girl with vividly pink hair smiled in a friendly fashion. They were led by an unusually short Flaming Fist soldier. The armor was unmistakable, and the face was vaguely familiar. “Salutations!” the young man called out. “I bring important prisoners, dangerous murderers brought here from Candlekeep for trial.” 

“You?” one of the gate guards asked. “Alone?” 

The strange soldier shrugged. There was something odd about his face, but the gate guard couldn’t think of what it was. “I’m good in a fight. They came along peacefully. And why wouldn’t they?” He puffed his chest out proudly. “After all, I am the Law!” 

At this there was a muffled snicker from the pink-haired girl, quickly checked, and the wizard also seemed vaguely amused. “Very well,” one of the gate guards slowly said. Everything seemed to be in order. “You may pass.” Only until an hour later did he realize what had been odd about the other soldier. For a moment, his face had rippled slightly, like an image in a distorted mirror. 

“Whew!” Rini said, as she and her companions hurried through the dark alleys of Baldur’s Gate, taking care not to encounter any more soldiers. “That was close. I almost wasn’t able to keep it up. A few more minutes and I’d have blown it.” 

“How did ye change yer clothes?” Yeslick asked. “Where did the platemail come from?”

The red-haired half-elf frowned. “I’m not sure. I think it’s some sort of illusion. Useful, but it’s not real. I could feel my own clothes when I touched myself. And I won’t be able to repeat it again tonight, it’s really draining.” 

“Then we will have to do without it,” Jaheira said. “We have done so before.” 

“Y-yes,” Khalid said. “What about your p-plan though? Where are we g-g-going?” 

Zaerini smiled. “Oh, I thought we might go to see a friend…after that business with Eldoth I’m sure Skie will be happy to help us out.” 

The adventurers made their way through the city, unaware of the shadowy figure that followed them at a distance. Eventually they reached their goal, the large and impressive mansion of Duke Entar Silvershield. “Finally!” Rini sighed. “Now we will…” 

Then the half-elf interrupted herself at the sight of the woman who came walking towards them, stopping at a respectful distance. She was clearly a trained warrior, armed and dangerous, and the narrow and slightly curved sword at her hip looked both old and beautiful. The woman herself was also attractive, with her slanted dark eyes and regally composed olive-skinned face, and the thick black braid that swayed with every step she took. “I must request to speak with you,” she said, her musical voice speaking in an accent that Zaerini had never heard in anybody else. She knew this woman though, both from reality and from her dreams and foretelling. 

_The Queen of Swords. Sarevok’s companion._

“I know you,” she said in a carefully measured voice. “You were there the night Gorion was slain, at Sarevok’s side. How is it that you wish to speak with me?” Beside her she could notice Imoen stiffening with anger. 

The woman nodded. “You are angry,” she said. “It is understandable, of course. Still, we should talk. I apologize for not being more open, but these are troubled times. If I could be permitted to speak for a moment, I believe I have something you would want to hear. Perhaps we could help each other?”

“How about telling me who you are first of all?” Rini said. “Then we’ll see.” She was treading on dangerous ground, she knew. This woman was close to Sarevok. And yet…in her foretelling she had seen him distancing himself from her. 

“It is reasonable,” the woman said, her face still unruffled. “You may call me Tamoko. I am not your friend, nor do you have any reason to trust me, but as I said I have information if you wish it. “

_Oh, what’s the harm? The worst that can happen is that she lies_. “Go ahead,” Rini said, her eyes never leaving the other woman’s face. “And I really hope you’re not simply wasting my time with the preliminaries to another outrageously silly assassination attempt. That would seriously annoy me.” 

There was the minutest hint of a smile at corner of the woman’s mouth. “I believe you,” she said. “You…are like him in many ways.” 

There could be only person she meant. “Sarevok,” Rini said, almost in a whisper. “You…think I am like Sarevok?”

Tamoko paused. “In some ways, yes,” she said. “You have met him, I know. You must have felt it…blood calling to blood. There are three things that are strength incarnate: there is love of life, there is fear of death, and there is family. A family that loves death would have a strong pull indeed. Can you...feel it? Can you feel him? He hates you; you know.”

“I know. The fact that he’s been trying to kill me for quite some time sort of tipped me off to that.” 

Again, that almost-smile. “Yes. Yet Sarevok is…complex. There is more than hate there, I know. But this is not the place or time to speak of such things. I offered you information. For now, know that Eltan, the commander of the Flaming Fist, is gravely ill. He lies on his deathbed in the Flaming Fist headquarters, and the very same who claims to heal him is the cause. You have the means to save him, and that will aid your cause. Once you have done so, I will seek you out again, and we will speak further.” She bowed briefly and started walking away. 

“Wait!” Imoen called out. “What is Sarevok to you?”

Tamoko slowed her steps and turned around. “He…is everything,” she said, and this time there was the hint of pain in her voice. “Know that. To me, he is everything.” 

Skie proved perfectly willing to take the adventurers in, just as Rini had hoped. What the half-elf hadn’t counted on was the fact that the noblewoman was in mourning, her father having recently been brutally murdered. 

“You could not have known,” Skie said as the bard apologized for intruding at such a time. “I am happy to be able to help you, and so would…so would my father have been, had he been alive.” 

From Skie, Zaerini and her friends learnt that so far nobody had been arrested for Duke Entar’s murder, indeed there were not even any suspects. “And there aren’t likely to be any either,” Skie said, her face stony. “Not with the Flaming Fist being run by that…that Angelo person.”

“Angelo?” Jaheira asked. “What of Scar?”

Skie looked surprised. “Oh…I suppose you wouldn’t know. Scar…is dead. Murdered. Just like…just like my father.” She wiped at her eyes with a handkerchief, and then composed herself again. “This…this Angelo leads the Fist now, but I do not trust him at all. Nor did Father. There are more soldiers about in the streets than ever…and they come down hard on everybody even close to breaking the law…but there still seems to be more unrest than ever. People keep talking about war, you know. War with Amn.” 

“I see,” Rini said, tapping her finger thoughtfully against her lower lip. “Tell me, Skie, have you heard any rumors about the Iron Throne?”

“Oh yes!” the dark-haired noblewoman said, nodding. “Everybody talks about how their iron will save us, how they will make us able to protect ourselves against the Amnians. Most people seem to think we should attack first, since the Amnians will certainly do so soon anyway. And…there is Sarevok of course.” 

“Sarevok?”

“Yes, the new leader of the Iron Throne. He took over after his father was…” Skie flushed slightly. “I’m sorry…I have heard about you being wanted for his death, but I will not believe the things being said. You helped me, and I consider you my friend. That is what matters. But I was speaking of Sarevok. He is a brilliant war-leader it seems, a strong warrior and a clever tactician. They say…” She looked down for a moment and cleared her throat. “They say that he is the strongest candidate for being a new Grand Duke…after my…after my Father.” She swallowed heavily. 

“I’m very, very sorry about your Father, Skie,” Zaerini said, taking the other woman’s hand. “I know how it feels.” Above Skie’s bent head she met the eyes of her friends, and on their faces, she read the same thought that was first in her mind. _Sarevok. He did this._

“We w-will do what we can to f-f-find your father’s slayer and bring him to j-justice,” Khalid said, looking unusually decisive. 

“Yes,” Jaheira agreed. “Though being hunted as we are, we can make no promises.” 

“I would not expect that,” Skie said with a small smile through her tears. “Just…if you happen to learn something…please let me know?”

“Of course we will,” Rini promised. _Sarevok…brother…is the power really worth this? I suppose you think so. I am not a bounty hunter. I will not promise her your death. But I can at least let her have the truth. And you too, if I can pull it off._

The Iron Throne building looked as she remembered it, a huge stone colossus, gray and cold. Zaerini could practically feel the cold radiating from the very stones of it. She looked up at the banners flapping in the wind and shivered slightly. _I can do this. If I don’t, then Reiltar will have won. And I won’t let him._

“Child,” Jaheira said in a low voice, sounding concerned. “Are you certain you are up to this?”

The redheaded half-elf shrugged slightly. “When can we ever be certain of things like that?” she said with a wry smile. “I…suppose I am as ready as I can be. Come on.” 

Strangely enough, there were no guards at the door. The cool semi-darkness of the opulent halls actually might almost have felt serene, if it hadn’t been for the nervous tension in the air. Merchants and guards were milling about more or less aimlessly, none of them seeming interested in stopping the adventurers. They were even given directions to Sarevok’s chambers. 

The employees of the Iron Throne seemed highly upset, when asked a few questions. Sarevok was neglecting the business side of things it seemed, making seemingly insane and unreasonable decisions. They might indeed seem insane to those who couldn’t understand his reasons. Rini could though, only too well. 

_Of course he doesn’t care about the Iron Throne anymore. It has served its purpose. Now he wants to become Grand Duke…and once he is done with that, a god. Gods have no need of a steady job on the mortal plane._

And now she stood outside her brother’s door, her hand on the handle, almost afraid to step inside. It had taken Imoen a good half an hour to pick the lock, as well as to disarm a particularly nasty poison trap. _What’s to be afraid of? That servant we talked to earlier told us that Sarevok isn’t here right now. This is just a room._

But it wasn’t. It was the room of Gorion’s killer, the one who was trying to kill her as well, the room of her brother. As much as she wanted to find out more about him, she was also afraid to do so. _But I can’t let that stop me._

Once the adventurers went inside the room, they stood for a few minutes, looking about. “How strange,” Imoen said, her voice pensive. “It seems so…normal. I mean…I guess I thought there’d be spikes on everything. Or portraits of Bhaal on the walls. Or…or something!” 

Rini nodded. She could understand what her friend meant, in a way. She knew Sarevok as a highly imposing armored figure with glowing eyes; it seemed somehow…weird…that he would sleep in a bed like a normal human being and not on a giant stone slab, or in a coffin. But apparently, he did. A nice canopy bed it was too, and it looked very comfortable. It was also exceptionally large, probably a necessary thing in Sarevok’s case. Softpaws immediately jumped onto it, settled down on the pillow and started purring loudly. 

_I suppose that would be one way of opposing Sarevok – getting cat hairs all over his pillow._

There was a big armoire as well, filled with clothes, a couch, a table and a few chairs. An adjoining room apparently functioned as a study, and there was a desk and a couple of bookshelves, most of the books being on the topics of warfare and battle techniques. One notable exception was a slim volume containing some form of Kara-Turan poetry. _A present from Tamoko, I guess. My brother doesn’t seem the type to buy poetry on his own._

One of the poems had been book marked. Zaerini took a closer look at it, curious to see what it was about. Alien as the type of poetry was to her, the emotions conveyed were still the same. 

_The snow on the high mountains,  
The simple blade of grass,  
Know peace._

The bard read the poem, not quite sure what to think of this. _Peace…I certainly don’t know that. Neither does Sarevok, I’m sure. Not that I think he wants to. Is that what Tamoko was trying for, I wonder? To try to make him desire it?_

Interesting as the poetry book was, that wasn’t why she had come here. She wanted information, if any was to be found. Unfortunately, it didn’t seem that her brother wanted to make things easy for her. 

“Nothing here,” Imoen said after conducting a thorough search of the desk. She turned to the bookshelf, but without success. 

“Can’t you hurry up?” Edwin said. He was looking rather nervous. “Sarevok may walk in at any moment. And if he does, we’d better have a really good excuse for going through his personal effects. (And not the one about wanting to help organize his shelves. That didn’t work the time I used it. I…I still remember the scolding.)” 

“Come on, that servant told us that Sarevok would be gone all afternoon, we have plenty of time…”

Rini didn’t intervene with the argument. She was…sensing something, and she wasn’t sure exactly what it was. It was almost as if she was seeing through somebody else’s eyes. 

Walking in through the door, through this very door, cradling a fragile object in a hand that might easily break bones. It was a snow globe, containing a scene of a pretty winter landscape, a small house, a distant forest, and a pair of children playing in the snow. As a child, he had liked to pretend that he was one of them, happy and flushed from the game, about to be called inside at any moment, inside to the warm house where the rest of the family awaited. Mother had kept it in her bedroom, and she had let him play with it whenever he wanted. Now, there were stains of blood on the pure glass, though he had managed to wipe most of it away. She had been beaten at first…and then the garotte. Miraculously, the snow globe had remained untouched. He would make certain that it remained that; he wouldn’t put it past Reiltar to smash it. 

Bending down, he touched a certain floorboard, moving it aside. His secret hiding place, ever since he was a child. The precious snow globe would be safe here; its perfect and happy little world inside the glass globe would be safe from harm. Such a world was an illusion, he knew that now. There was no safety, no haven, and no peace. No mother. No more. Now, there was only him. Him and his Father. 

“Lass?” Yeslick was saying, sounding extremely worried as he tugged at her sleeve. “Are ye all right?” 

Rini nodded absently. Moving almost as if in a trance, she crossed the floor, then bent down. That one floorboard. Yes, that was the one. Her fingers slid across it as if she had done it many times before, pressing at exactly the right spot. “There will be a snow globe inside…” she said in a quiet voice. 

“How do you know?” Jaheira asked. 

“I…I just do.” The bard stuck her hand inside the narrow space beneath the floorboard, not the least bit surprised when her fingers touched cool glass. When she pulled her hand out again, she held a round object in her palm. It was dusty, but still easily recognizable. As she turned it over, snow gently whirled down over a peaceful landscape, a homey cottage, and two children playing in the snow. A boy and a girl. _Once…he wanted this. Once. Could he want it again, I wonder?_

“That,” Edwin said, “was very, very disturbing. You aren’t about to start vomiting pea soup or making your head spin in circles, are you? Or speaking in a demonic bass voice? Or start tearing off all your clothes and making exotic suggestions? (Though come to think of it, that last part might be very pleasant…)” 

“Eddie, whatever are you going on about?” Rini said, staring incredulously at the wizard. 

The Red Wizard looked a little embarrassed, but he clearly wasn’t about to let go of the topic. “You were acting very strangely. I thought you might be possessed. Staring at nothing, muttering to yourself like that…” 

“Muttering to myself? ME?” 

Edwin nodded. “I am not a priest, so I do not know the proper procedure for an exorcism, but perhaps Yeslick does. (Although, I really would like to wait until after the exotic imitation of a succubus.)” 

Yeslick hastily backed into a corner, his hands raised. “Lad, don’t involve me in this scheme. I’d like to keep my head.” 

Zaerini slowly counted to ten. “Edwin,” she said in a tightly controlled voice. “I am not possessed.”

“Well, you would say that! But can you prove it? (And speaking of possessing, I would certainly want to possess her perfect little…)” 

The half-elf smiled seductively, but there was a dangerous glitter in her golden eyes. “Why don’t you come closer?” she purred. “I want to whisper it into your ear. It is very secret.” 

Edwin willingly obliged, looking very pleased with himself. “Yes?” he said. “Prove it, if you can.” 

“Well,” Rini said, reaching up on tiptoe to whisper into his ear. “If I were possessed, I wouldn’t know how to do this. WOULD I, SNUGGLY-WUGGLY?” 

The last sentence she spoke in what was indeed a deep and dangerous bass voice. Sarevok’s voice in fact, something that created a very interesting contrast to the words spoken. The fact that she simultaneous tickled the wizard in the ribs probably contributed to his sudden yelp and the fact that his head almost collided with the ceiling. 

“Satisfied?” Zaerini asked with a small smirk, crossing her arms across her chest. 

“That,” the still wincing Edwin said, “was cruel, sadistic, and totally uncalled for. (Admirable, of course. Very much so. A demon could never achieve such adorable wickedness.) And I am not a ‘snuggly-wuggly’, whatever atrocious thing that is. It sounds like something with antennae.” 

Jaheria cleared her throat. “Children…” she said in a tense voice. 

Rini ignored the druid. “But you are!” she said, grinning at the wizard. “I should know. Well, not the antennae part…” 

Edwin adamantly shook his head. “No, I’m not! An epitome of masculine perfection, yes. A beacon of dazzling charm, to be sure. Also, a masterful weaver of spells powerful enough to make the gods have to change their underwear when they see me coming. Certainly, the object of fervent adoration for lovely concubines from all over Thay. And the world’s greatest chess player. (Well, almost.)”

The bard’s grin widened even more, and she took a step closer to the Red Wizard, staring directly into his eyes in a way that suddenly made him swallow heavily. “That’s what I said. A real snuggly-wuggly.” 

Edwin blinked. “Well,” he said, clearing his throat as he smiled back at her. “If you put it that way…”

“CHILDREN!” Jaheira snapped. “Perhaps this might best be saved for a bedroom not belonging to _Sarevok_?”

“Oh!” Rini said, suddenly becoming aware of the fact that there were other people in the room, and feeling her cheeks turn hot. “Guess so…” _I really wouldn’t want Big Brother to walk in on that…_

“I think it was very sweet!” Imoen said, her eyes shining like stars. “Oh, and here’s something I found! They were down in that hole, by the snow globe.” 

The object in question turned out to be two brief letters, with rather interesting contents. 

_Sarevok,  
I have received your letter and am quite overjoyed by your proposition. I have told my wife, and she is as excited as I am. I accept your mission and think that your payment is very adequate. This will be our greatest feat yet! To kill three Grand Dukes of Baldur's Gate! We will be arriving in Baldur's Gate within a week, and should be taking up our usual residence at the Undercellar. If you wish to contact us, you will find us there. Use the access points through the sewers._

_Joyfully yours,  
Slythe._

_Sarevok,  
I must say that our first victim was not the challenge that my wife and I had expected. The foppish idiot had only the most token of defense. However, I can assure you that Entar screamed quite deliciously all the way to the end. I hope that this next mission is much more difficult; from what you have told me it would seem to be. Assassinating two Grand Dukes in their own palace, while they harangue the high nobles of Baldur's Gate no less! I can't wait! You still know where to find us. You should come down and enjoy the pleasures of the Undercellar for yourself; but if I know you, that'll never happen._

_Your obedient servant,  
Slythe._

“So,” Rini said, once she had read the letters. “More assassins. Well, why depart from a favorite theme… And this proves not only who was behind Duke Entar’s death, but what my brother intends as well.”

“He isn’t c-content with becoming a G-Grand Duke,” Khalid said, his voice grim. “He wants to r-rule alone.” 

Jaheira nodded. “He must be stopped.” 

Edwin shrugged. “What for? What does it matter to us who rules this city? Assassinations are an established part of political games. (Though I am certain these Westerners are mere amateurs, openly describing their plans in a letter like this. Certainly, they would not be worthy to even walk in the shadow of…of truly skilled individuals.)” 

Rini shook her head. “I don’t really care who rules this city. Or who becomes God of Murder, for that matter. But if it’s Sarevok, then he’ll have the perfect means to hunt me down. No, it can’t be allowed.” 

“Scar would have been able to help with this,” Yeslick said. “Shame that he’s dead.” 

“There is Elhan though,” Imoen suggested. “If what Tamoko said was true, he really needs help. I’m not sure we can trust her…but he would be able to help us if he read these letters, wouldn’t he? And Sarevok’s diary too?”

“Maybe,” Zaerini said. “It’s worth a try.”

The adventurers left the Iron Throne building without further incidents, but the peace wasn’t about to last. They had hardly walked a block before they found themselves face to face with a large contingent of Flaming Fist, almost a small army. Definitely too many to fight. 

“Halt!” the commanding officer called out. “You are all under arrest, by the orders of Angelo, commander of the Flaming Fist. You will come along peacefully, or you will be cut down where you stand.” 

_Well_ , Zaerini thought. _I did want to go to the Flaming Fist building. Only not quite in this way…_

Commander Angelo Dosan of the Flaming Fist glittered in the torchlight. He had foregone the regular platemail armor in favor of one that was so gilded as to resemble the sparkling contents of a lady’s jewelry box, and it made a striking contrast to his scarlet cloak. The man himself was tall and broad shouldered, with a fairly handsome but hard face dominated by a thick mustache. He actually twirled the thing between his fingers as he sneered at Zaerini at her friends. Probably he was under the misconception that it made him look dastardly. It made him look as if he was itching. 

“So,” Angelo said, “these are the infamous murderers, finally brought to justice. I am Angelo, commander of the Flaming Fist. I will be your judge, jury and executioner, please pardon the cliché.”

“How witty,” Edwin said with a contemptuous smirk. “How much time did you spend thinking up that little speech? A few days? Oh, and here’s a hint. When you raise your hand like that, I can tell that you’ve written the entire speech down on your palm. (Frankly, I’m amazed that he can write at all.)” 

Angelo’s face stiffened visibly, but he wasn’t about to give up. “In the name of law and justice, I shall make certain that you…” 

“Oh, give us a break!” Rini said with an impatient toss of her red curls. “You can skip the sermon; we know you’re working for Sarevok. Just get it over with.” 

Angelo ground his teeth. “You will soon regret that remark,” he stiffly said. “Now that we are done with all these pleasantries, I will make my decision. I had thought hard and long on what sentence I should give if you should be delivered into my hands. The choice is an obvious one. For the charges of murder, theft, arson, rape and many other assorted crimes I declare that each of you shall be taken to the Bazaar where you shall hang by the neck until you are dead.”

“Whoa!” Imoen exclaimed. “How did that list get so long all of a sudden? I mean, Ulraunt kept going on about Reiltar. But what are we supposed to have stolen? What’s wrong with stealing anyway? Um…I mean…” 

“And what a-arson would this b-b-be?” Khalid asked, frowning. “We d-don’t go about setting fire to p-people. Well, apart f-from the time when Edwin…”

“That was your own fault,” the Red Wizard remarked in a haughty voice. “You should have got out of the way. (Really, I would have expected monkeys to be excellent at jumping. Soon he will tell me that he doesn’t groom his mate for fleas in public.)” He gave Angelo a malevolent look. “And as for rape, have a care how you throw about that word. You might give me ideas, the practical implementations of which you would not enjoy.” He lovingly stroked his fingers along his staff. “Observe how long this is, how sharp is the knob on the end. (I think ‘Edwin the Impaler’ sounds like a very impressive title myself.)” 

“It sure does, Eddie,” Zaerini said while giving the wizard a fond look. “But don’t bother. He won’t listen to anything we say anyway.” 

Angelo seemed a little disappointed as he waved his guards forward. Probably he had been hoping for a bloody fight. “Take them and put them in one of the cells,” he ordered. “We will deal with them after the coronation.” 

_What a foolish human_ , Softpaws remarked. _If he had any sense, he would have killed you at once._

_I’m sure you’re right, Softy. But please don’t go giving him any bright ideas…_

The cell to which the adventurers were taken was fairly typical. Small, gloomy, and with furniture consisting of a pile of dirty straw and a bucket. “We seem to be spending altogether too much time in cells lately,” Jaheira remarked. “I cannot say that I approve of it.”

“I h-hope this will be the l-l-last,” Khalid said, shivering as he noticed the rack standing in a corner on the other side of the room outside the bars. “I d-don’t think I can t-t-take much more of this.” 

“Well, I don’t think I can take sharing that filthy bucket with the rest of you,” Edwin said. “Some things are too horrible to contemplate. Can we please just get out of here now?” 

“Oh sure,” Imoen said. “Just as soon as I figure out how to pick a lock from the inside. It’s trickier than it looks, you know.” 

“Hey you!” a voice suddenly spoke from within a neighboring cell. “Yeah you, the loudmouthed ones. Murderers, aren’t you? Heh heh…my name is Neb.” 

Zaerini turned to peer through the bars to the other cell. A small and very dirty gnome was sitting cross-legged on the floor, leering at her. “Neb, is it?” she said. “So why are you in here?”

The gnome giggled in a highly unsettling manner. “Heh heh…I’m a murderer too. I killed some street-urchins…such pretty little children. And they scream so sweetly too…” 

The half-elf suddenly found herself gripping the bars very tightly, as if she were trying to break them with her bare hands in order to get at the gnome. She was snarling silently. _He will die. I swear it, that one will die._

Behind her she was vaguely aware of her friends expressing similar noises of shock and disgust. Neb seemed oblivious to it all. “I can help you; you know!” he said. “Yes, I can, heh heh…” 

“We don’t want your help!” Imoen cried out, her eyes filled with tears. “You’re…you’re a beast!”

“No,” Jaheira said, her voice icy. “Beasts do not kill for pleasure. Why would you wish to help us, child killer? And what makes you think we want your help?”

There was a mad light in Neb’s eyes, which he kept firmly focused on Rini. “I sense the murder in you, pretty one,” he said. “We are all siblings, are we not?”

“I am nothing like you!” the half-elf spat. 

“You are…I tell you I can sense it, heh heh. You feel the pull, the dark tide. You hear the voice in your dreams…”

An icy shiver ran down Rini’s back as she stared at the evil gnome. _A…another child of Bhaal? Can it be? I want nothing to do with him and his filth. But…I have to get out of here_. “What do you want?” she asked between clenched teeth. “And if you have a way out, why are you still in here?”

“I was just leaving, heh heh,” Neb said. “I just wanted to see if they’d throw somebody…amusing…in here. Like one of the little children. Answer my riddle, and I shall set you free. I wish to know you better, heh heh. Your answer shall tell me much.” He cleared his throat, his eyes burning with a strange fire. “What can change the nature of a…no. Not that old chestnut. Something harder, I think.” He giggled quietly. “The Children are many, oh so many. They kill and are killed, all over the world. All the little Children…the sweet Children. They are everywhere, of every race, of every profession. What is the one thing true of them all?”

_He means the Children of Bhaal_ , Zaerini thought. _I wonder…is that why he kills real children? Some sort of insane paranoia? The one thing true of them all…I don’t have anything in common with this…this disgusting madman, do I?_

_But you do, kitten_ , Softpaws said. _Think about it. It is really very obvious._

And then she had an answer. “They share the same sire,” she said. “That is the one thing true of them all. But they are all individuals, not just Bhaalspawn. They don’t deserve to be lumped together like that. They…we…are our own people.”

Neb was silent for a moment, nodding to himself. “So,” he said. “I am satisfied. You would murder for freedom then, I think. Heh heh. Well, you shall have it. And I shall go back to my children…and the Children.” He raised a gnarled hand, touching the bars to his cell, and they hissed and melted at his touch, dissolving into a puddle of shiny goo. The gnome repeated the trick on the bars to the other cell, allowing Zaerini and her friends to step outside. Before they had got out of the cell, he twisted a ring on his finger, disappearing from sight. “Catch me if you can, little ones!” he giggled. “I know what you want…but you shan’t have old Neb this day!” 

The giggles drifted away into the distance as Rini slammed her hand into the wall with a frustrated growl. Then she swore, trying to shake some life back into her numb fingers. 

“Really,” Jaheira said. “Punching walls is what I would expect of Sarevok, not of you, child.” 

The bard sighed. “I…I just got so angry! I would have killed him you know, for what he did to those children. And…and he just laughed about it. And now he’ll probably do those terrible things again…” 

“Repulsive as the man was, we cannot find him now,” Edwin said, taking her unhurt hand gently into his own. It seemed that heat was creeping slowly up from her palm and all the way to the tips of her lightly pointed ears. “You must not blame yourself. (I would cheerfully string the gnome up with his own guts if I got the chance, for making her this upset. And for other reasons as well. Even I have my limits.)”

“Yes,” Imoen said. “He would have got out anyway. At least now we’re free to do what we came for.” 

There were only a few guards up and about, easily bypassed with the aid of invisibility spells and potions. Upstairs, the adventurers found a very sickly Eltan, being not so tenderly taken care of by what turned out to be a powerful Doppelganger. However, they had all become more skilled fighters since their time in Durlag’s Tower and were able to kill it with no major injuries on their part. Jaheira and Yeslick cast what healing spells they could, but it was clear that Eltan was still very weak, and in need of rest. He requested that they bring him to the Harbormaster down in the docks, an old and trusted friend of his. Even more importantly, he promised to back them up regarding the death of Reiltar, once he regained control of the Fist. 

“I guess it’s back to the Undercellar then,” Rini said as the party exited into the streets once more. “To find those two assassins.” 

“Undercellar…” Yeslick said, sounding uncharacteristically nervous. “But…” 

“W-we do not have a ch-choice,” Khalid said. “If that is wh-where they are, then that is where we m-must go.” 

Imoen was peering at a shadow figure standing at a street corner. “Look!” she said, nudging Rini. “It’s that woman again…Tamoko.” 

And so it was. The Kara-Turan was standing there calmly, regarding the approaching adventurers. “I greet you once again,” she said. “My information about Eltan was good, no? You can see that I know much of what is happening to the city. With Eltan safe, now thoughts must turn to who is responsible.” She paused, and looked straight at Zaerini, dark and inscrutable eyes boring into golden ones. “I have things that must be said, things that are important to us both. I have but one condition to my discourse, and you must agree before I speak. A promise I seek, and I will accept no less.”

“Promises without conditions?” Edwin asked. “Do you take her for a fool?” 

Tamoko answered calmly enough, not looking at him. “I take her for a woman who knows her own mind, and those of others. You may choose to accept or not, as you wish, but this is my condition.” 

Rini thought about this. She didn’t exactly like it, but for some strange reason she thought she could trust the other woman to keep her word. It wasn’t based on any facts, it was just a feeling, but it felt right. “I agree,” she said. “As long as it is something I can do, and that won’t harm me, my friends or anybody else that I care about.” 

Tamoko nodded. “It should not. I thank you. Here is my request, though it may seem quite odd. I charge you to defeat Sarevok, the man behind all your woes. You must destroy his plans and stop his scheme in its tracks. You must strip him of the belief that he can succeed in this path he follows. You must do this for me, and you must also leave him his life.” There was the smallest hint of tightness around her mouth that spoke of hidden emotions swirling beneath her calm façade. “I will...I will help him to live his life as a man, not as the god he thinks he can be.”

_Peace_ , Rini thought. _That poem…that is what she seeks. Both for herself, and for him._ “I…think I understand,” she said. “I…I would see Bhaal cheated of my brother’s soul, if possible. But you must understand, I don’t know if it is possible. I will try, but he wants me dead, you know.” 

“I know,” Tamoko said. “Sarevok seeks to destroy everyone, not just you. You are of particular interest because of your shared origins with him. You are a possible rival, one of the few that are worthy of his personal attention. Above all else, you are family. I see that this comes as no surprise to you. Yet, it is more than you think. You have many siblings, and Sarevok has slain many a one before this. Never has he been this passionate about it, this…personal. There is a strong tie between you, more so than between the other Children. I know not what it is, but Sarevok senses it. You do too, do you not?” 

The bard nodded, almost unable to speak. “I…I do. I don’t know what it is, or why it is, but I cannot deny it.”

“Sarevok knows it too. But there are other influences in his life as well. You had Gorion to guide you, did you not? Sarevok had no one. He draws his strength from his hatred, from the thought of rising above those he knows to be inferior. His divine blood hungers for conquest, and that is why he must be defeated, but not killed. He serves another but does not know it.”

Bhaal. “I know whom he serves,” Zaerini said, her eyes suddenly flaring as she thought of her sire. “He has whispered into my heart as well, lied, tricked, threatened, deceived. I know how easy it is to listen to him, how easy it would have been to give in. I might easily have become as my brother is.” 

Tamoko’s black braid slithered across her back like a tail as she inclined her head slightly. “You are like him, and yet not. I wish…I hope…that you might succeed where I have failed and help him break his chains. I would save the man within the beast he wishes to be. I do not believe he will survive his plan; it is all based on conjecture at best. He feels that he has been chosen, and that he will become...more than he is. I do not share this belief. Gods are not known for bequeathing their powers, especially if they have foreseen their deaths. Whatever he is, I would keep him here, grounded firmly among those of us that are all flesh.”

“Are you certain? He may resent you for it.”

Tamoko’s eyes were steady and calm when next she spoke. “Then that is what will be. I will do this for him, though he may hate me for it. It is my duty, and my pleasure.”

The half-elf nodded. “I understand. I promise that if I can, I will do as you ask.” _She would accept his hatred, if only he is saved. I guess she must really love him._

There was an almost invisible relaxation in the Kara-Turan warrior. “I thank you. Sarevok can be redeemed, as could you, should you one day pursue the same path. For now, I shall speak of secrets to aid you. Eltan may be saved, but Duke Entar Silvershield has been killed outright. The murderers have acted with anonymity, but I know who and where they are. You must go to the Undercellars; return if you have already been. There you will find Slythe and Krystin, two unsavory beings that revel in the violence Sarevok allows them to commit. They are no more than animals in human guise, even by the standards of the company they keep. Kill them and you shall know much of the plan. They carry important papers, papers that will allow you and your friends entrance to the Ducal Palace, where you may find Sarevok and put a halt to his plans. If you do not know where the Undercellars are located then go to the sewers, you will find an entrance there.” She turned to leave. “Remember your promise.” 

Once Tamoko had left, Imoen stepped forward, her face very serious. “Sis, are you sure about this?” she asked. “Sarevok…he killed Gorion! You haven’t forgotten that, have you?”

The bard shook her head. “Of course not. But…it was Bhaal acting through him, mostly. Sarevok is a slave, not a ruler, no matter what he thinks. And…if I can redeem him, then I think that would please Gorion far more than his death would have.” She smiled. “And also, I think that Sarevok’s death would please our common sire. I really don’t see any reason for accommodating him. I’d much rather get in his way…”


	68. Assassin Arising

**In The Cards 68 – Assassin Arising**

_One important lesson to learn about assassination is to use whatever methods are available to you, and to pick the one most appropriate for the target in question. It makes no sense to complicate things unnecessarily. True, sometimes risks must be taken, but they should be taken because circumstances demand it, not because you think you’re the hottest thing since molten lava._

_Excerpt from ‘Interview With An Assassin’_

There was a mug of spiced wine on the table, still steaming hot. Dekaras wrapped his long fingers around it, taking some pleasure in the heat. He hated the cold of this place, he really did. Not only was it uncomfortable, but heavier clothing made it more difficult to move with ease, and that might make the difference between life and death. As for the snow, he didn’t really want to think too hard about that. So far, he had discovered 47 different words for different kinds of snow that might be found in Icewind Dale. As far as he was concerned, they all meant the same thing. ‘Bloody cold and wet mess’. 

The assassin glared darkly into the mug of dark red wine, noticing how closely the color resembled blood. He tried to push the morbid thought away. He really didn’t need any more of those. _I’m in quite enough of a pathetic state already, thank you very much._

He wasn’t feeling quite as bad as when he had first learnt of Edwin’s betrayal. Active despair only flared up now and then and had mostly given way to a sort of gray numbness, that lay like a wet blanket across his spirit. He had tried to push it aside, but so far had been unable to. In a way, despair had actually been preferable, since that at least meant feeling something. Now…there was nothing that was not dulled and muted. Possibly the worst part of it was that he could remember being different, and sometimes was almost able to reach inside to his real self. Almost. But not quite. 

_I know I should be moving on_ , Dekaras thought, his black eyes still fixed on the contents of the mug. _After all, Edwin is likely to need me, whether he knows it or not._

He thought he was strong enough to travel by now and taking on a minor assignment or two had provided him with adequate travel money, more of which might be acquired on the road. But he was putting it off, reluctance wrapped like an icy hand around his heart. _And I know what the problem is, don’t I? As shameful as it is to admit it._

The fact of the matter was that he was afraid. Afraid that once he found his child, he would be rejected one final time, once more cast aside. _And if that should happen…I do not think I would be able to survive it. Not again._

But the fear was more than painful; it was extremely humiliating. It made him feel weak and helpless, and that he hated more than anything. _Pathetic. Utterly pathetic. He might be in danger. He might need me there. And I sit here worrying about my own feelings? Totally unjustifiable. I must leave. And I will. Very soon._

Only, he had told himself that for three days in a row now, ever since he’d emerged enough from the worst darkness of depression that he was able to even leave his room. It hadn’t worked yet. _This is not me. Not this…indecisiveness, this lack of purpose. I must pull out of it. How dare I sit around here feeling sorry for myself when he is no doubt spinning some disastrous scheme even now? Disgraceful, that’s what it is._

Unfortunately, scolding himself only managed to make him feel even more apprehensive and doubtful of himself. He had hoped that spending a little time in the semi-company of other people might help pull him out of his black mood, but so far, he hadn’t had any luck. 

The bar he was sitting in was a very rough place, patronized not only by regular adventurers, but also by rogues and criminals of every kind. He almost hoped that somebody would decide to attack him. That might make him think of other matters than Edwin. But nothing so far. The rest of the patrons tended to take one look at his face, and then leave him alone. He was even left as the sole occupant of a dark and secluded corner table, despite the fact that the rest of the bar was crowded. 

There was singing and carousing going on all around, and some dreadfully messy business with drinking horns that probably qualified as quaffing. The main difference between quaffing and drinking seemed to be the amount of spilling and the volume of the people involved. Two barbarians were busily having a quaffing (or possibly drinking) contest at the next table. They were both immensely muscular, and despite the cold they wore nothing but tiny little furry loincloths. The barbarians also had really low foreheads, veins that climbed like ropes across their bulging muscles, and they spoke primarily in grunts. Probably their ancestry contained more than a little yeti. That would explain a lot. 

More patrons were milling around near the bar, and now and then ugly little fights broke out when somebody was jostled or thought that another customer had bypassed him. It was only about half the sticky wet spots on the bar that were made up of alcoholic drinks, and it was not a good idea to take a closer look at what the lean and snarling wolf-like dogs were fighting about in one corner. 

In another corner there was a dice-game going on, laughter now and then interrupted by shouts of anger. There didn’t seem to be any bloodshed going on there though. Not yet. 

Dekaras sighed. This was doing no good. He might as well go and get some sleep, and perhaps…perhaps he would be able to make himself set out in the morning. 

“This place is free, isn’t it?” 

Dekaras looked up at the man who was sitting down opposite him, mildly curious at this unusual boldness. Interestingly enough, the stranger didn’t look all that dissimilar to himself. He was dark of hair and eye, with a lean and composed face. He was wearing dark clothing, which rather matched the blue-black stubble on his chin, and there was something about the ease with which he moved that suggested that he would be a dangerous opponent in a fight. _He is shorter than me though. Quite a bit shorter. That might be an advantage, or not. Certainly Poppy would never let me hear the end of it if it made me underestimate him._

“It is,” Dekaras said, not particularly interested in the stranger. “Please yourself.” Perhaps the man would shut up once he realized that he wasn’t in the market for conversation and let him go on brooding in peace. 

The stranger nodded, and took a deep drink from his beer, wiping the foam from his mouth. “You’re in the trade, aren’t you?” he said, with a meaningful look. 

“Pardon me?”

“You know.” The stranger made a brief gesture across his throat, as of a slicing knife. “The noble art of pest removal.” 

_Noble art of…is he completely out of his mind?_ “I’m sure I have no idea what you are referring to,” Dekaras said, giving the stranger a chilly look. “You must be mistaking me for somebody else.”

“I don’t think so,” the stranger said, in a disgustingly pleased voice. “You have the look about you. I can usually tell.” 

“How nice for you,” Dekaras said, idly toying with the saltshaker that was standing on the table, hoping that a demonstration of extreme boredom might be enough to make the stranger get the hint. But no, the man was clearly impervious to such subtleties, or else he didn’t care, now that he had found himself an audience.

“Of course you know who _I_ am,” the stranger said, sounding supremely confident. At the blank look of total incomprehension that the Eastern assassin gave him he looked just a little bit annoyed, but then he rallied. “I,” he said in a grandiose but conspiratorial voice, which hinted at fanfares and drum rolls, “am…Artemis Entreri!”

There were a few moments of brief silence, during which there was a distinct lack of applause, admiring murmurs or any other signs of adoration. There was also no ‘oohing’ or ‘aaahing’ and there was absolutely no swooning or begging for autographs. 

Slowly, calculatedly slowly, Dekaras raised an eyebrow. “Yes?” he said, making sure to infuse the single word with all the collected boredom of a lecture hall filled with students just after lunch. 

“You know damn well who I am!” the other assassin snapped. “Everybody knows who I am! I am _the_ Artemis Entreri! These days everybody knows my face!” The scowl on his face hinted that things might get ugly very soon if he didn’t get the recognition he clearly felt was his due. 

“Oh,” Dekaras said in a mild voice. “Of course. _The_ Artemis Entreri.” He had heard of the man of course. Who hadn’t? He didn’t doubt that he was quite deadly in a fight, probably at least as deadly as he himself was. But there were those other stories he had heard about him… “The _famous_ assassin.” He slid the saltshaker around in a pool of partially congealed blood on the table, tracing patterns in it. “Yes, you are quite well-known, aren’t you? Aren’t you the one who is famous for trying to kill Drizzt the Drow?” _How many times has it been so far? Six? Seven? Why, I even have a bet riding on that assignment myself, that it will take him at least a dozen attempts before he gets it right – if he ever will. Now that I’ve met the man, I think perhaps I should increase the stakes._

Entreri frowned suspiciously. “Are you making fun of me?” he growled. “I don’t take kindly to that. What is your name anyway?” 

Dekaras shrugged, his sharp-featured face perfectly sincere. “Would I make fun of a famous assassin like yourself? Sir, you wound me. And my name is Bron. Jacen Bron.” The alias he had used during the Iron Throne infiltration was the first that sprang to mind, and it seemed unlikely that anybody would have heard of it here. _Honestly, bragging about being well known by everybody…has he no shame? What does he think he is? A bard? What will be next, an epic saga singing his own praise?_ To tell the truth, as annoying as the encounter was, it was also…reviving him. He was feeling energized as he hadn’t in a long time, enjoying the mental sparring. 

Entreri seemed mollified and took another long swig of his ale. “That’s better,” he said. “I demand respect, you know.”

_Never having thought about earning it, I’m sure._

“Tell you what,” Entreri said, a rather patronizing smile on his face. “You’re new in these parts, I can tell. I’m sure I can give you a tip or two.”

“How kind.” 

“Anything to assist. One of these days you may even come close to matching me. Now, what methods do you prefer? Long sword? Short sword? Great sword? Club? Fists?” 

Dekaras thought for a moment before answering. A partial truth shouldn’t be able to do any harm, he supposed. “I try to vary myself according to the task at hand,” he said. “Bladed weapons at times, sometimes ranged. Though I am also partial to poisons.” 

Entreri scoffed, making a grimace of disgust. “Poisons! Those are the coward’s weapons you know, like the garotte. Only sissies use them. Not the tools of a real man. And besides, they’re totally unreliable, won’t get the job done properly.” He grinned proudly, puffing his chest out. “Now I, I prefer the open and honest way of True Combat.” 

Dekaras was silent for a few moments, uncertain whether he had heard the other man correctly. _Open and honest way of…Can he possibly be serious? Can he really be that much of a buffoon?_ “Isn’t that a little inconvenient?” he asked, toying with the lid of the saltshaker. “Surely, under most circumstances our profession requires a certain…discretion? And sometimes, ‘cowardly’ methods are the best way of getting the job done efficiently and above all silently, sparing you the noise of combat that might attract more guards, as well as the risk of getting hurt.”

Entreri shook his head triumphantly. “Not when you’re the best, it isn’t. In fact, I have this little thing I like to do, just for fun.” He smiled. “Sometimes, I enjoy giving the targets some non-fatal wounds, and leave them lying around bleeding for hours. Then, once they’ve used up all their healing spells or potions I come back, laugh in their face and finish them off. Isn’t that the coolest thing you’ve ever head of?” 

By this point, Dekaras was uncertain whether he wanted to laugh in the other asssasin’s face, or cry over the fact that he didn’t seem to want to shut up. _He’s insane. He has to be. Bragging about making unclean and needlessly drawn-out kills like that, simply to amuse himself._ “Excuse me,” he politely asked. “But may I just ask one question? Have you ever considered that somebody might come across your slowly bleeding victim, patch them up and have a small army of guards waiting for you when you return to gloat? Superior numbers may overwhelm even the greatest of fighters.”

Entreri looked vaguely puzzled. “You know…” he said. “I never really thought about that. Oh well, it’s worked so far.”

_Which goes to show that the gods watch over small children and madmen, I suppose_. “It occurs to me,” Dekaras said in his politest voice as he let the saltshaker slide between his fingers, “that perhaps you are not entirely satisfied with being an assassin. Seeing that you have this thing for ‘open and honest’ combat, I mean. And not wanting to make full use of the resources open to you, thus taking unnecessary risks that I am sure your clients would not approve of, did they know of them. And I seem to recall one story about you not wanting to kill Drizzt, unless he would fight you back. Have you ever thought about the possibility that you may have missed your true calling in life, and that you might be happier pursuing another path? Such as that of…the paladin, perhaps?” This mortal insult was delivered with a faint smile calculated to incense, and Dekaras seriously hoped that the other would choose to attack him. The small crossbow he was holding under the table, its poisoned bolts aimed in the direction of Entreri’s groin, should suffice to teach him a thing or two about ‘true combat’. 

However, Entreri’s face crumbled, and he sagged across the table, sighing heavily. “I tried!” he cried out. “The gods know that I tried. As a little kid…lost in the streets…all I wanted was to fight honorably, don’t you know? To…to find a true purpose. So, I went to the local Order of the Radiant Heart, when they were recruiting new squires.” He swallowed and buried his face in his hands. “They…they had this wooden hand, see? ‘You Must Be This Tall To Enter The Order’. And…and they told me I was too _short_!” His eyes were blazing with murderous fury by now. “Oh, sure the old paladin was nice about it. ‘There you go son,’ he told me. ‘I’m sure there are plenty of other useful things you can do with yourself.’ And I did. Oh, _how_ I did!” He was sobbing gently onto the table now. “And…and Drizzt won’t even fight me properly anymore! It’s not fair!” 

“Right,” Dekaras said, feeling a strong urge to remove himself from the premises before the other man started confessing any more embarrassing secrets, such as secretly having a crush on Drizzt. Besides, he had already set things up to prove his point. “Look! Isn’t that him over there?” he cried out, pointing into the crowd on the other side of the bar. 

“What? Where?” Artemis Entreri spun around; his voice wild with excitement. When he failed to spot his nemesis he turned around again, only to find that his new confidant was curiously absent, and not to be seen anywhere. Puzzled, he took a deep drink of beer, and then spit it out violently all over the table, gargling and choking. “What the…” And as he noticed the empty saltshaker on the table, he started feeling the first creeping hints of insecurity and doubt. 

Meanwhile, Dekaras was rapidly crossing the town border, heading for a caravan station he knew lay a few miles to the south. Despite the fact that his breath made clouds of steam in the air, he didn’t feel cold at all, rather he felt extremely invigorated. There was a new spring in his step, and the old fire had quite returned to his eyes. _I think that was exactly what I needed to cheer me up a little. I guess that taught him a thing or two about the efficiency of ‘cowardly methods’._ True, he was still very much upset with Edwin and hurt by his actions, but he wasn’t about to let it hold him back any longer. He would do what he had to do and go to his child, no matter his own feelings about it and what might happen. Smiling faintly to himself, he headed south. _Yes, it feels good to have a goal again. Places to go. And people to meet. Definitely people to meet._


	69. Hunt and Traitors

**In The Cards 69 – Hunt and Traitors**

_Much as you may try to distance yourself from your past, sooner or later it will catch up with you. Pray that you are prepared to deal with it when it does._

_Excerpt from ‘Ruminations Of A Master Bard’_

The Undercellar was much as Edwin remembered it. Strong smells of sweat and sickeningly sweet perfume, of smoke, incense and musk, and with that nauseating sewer smell underlying it all. There were the same noises in the air, music, laughter, and cries of passion. Most importantly there were the same people. He was passing through a sea of courtesans like a fish through a flesh-colored sea, many of them attractive ones. Once, not that long ago, he would have been instantly fascinated. Now, he barely noticed them. 

The confrontation with Sarevok was coming closer, and that wasn’t the worst. It was entirely possible that it would be possible to defeat him, but then what would happen? Edwin sighed. Things were coming apart, rapidly so. He had missed the opportunity to pacify Danak and the other Red Wizards searching for him. Now, they would be out for blood. Or was there still some way he could salvage the situation? If so, he hadn’t been able to think of it as yet. _They will hunt for me, and sooner or later they will find me._

Edwin was reasonably certain that he could outthink, outfight, and out-anything any single one of the other wizards. However, all four of them at once were an entirely different matter. Edwin sighed again. Not for the first time he fervently wished that it would have been possible to discuss the complicated situation with his teacher. But Dekaras was far from here, of course. _And we all know whose fault that is._ He wasn’t likely to be back in a hurry either. _He…he must have found out the truth by now. He…may not want to come back at all. Or if he does – he will be very angry._

That was not a comforting thought at all. After all, he knew what tended to happen to people that Dekaras got very angry with, though he never would have imagined that quiet rage might apply to himself. _He…he wouldn’t do anything like that to me though. Would he?_ Perhaps anger wasn’t the worst of what he had to fear though. There had been that dream, that terrible dream, the one he was trying hard to forget. 

The black wolf, snarling at him, its eyes filled with pain and distrust. Blood trickling down its sides into the huge snowdrifts. _Wounds that I caused. I did that. Me. I didn’t want to, but I still did. If he wants to kill me, I wouldn’t blame him, not really._

Deeply preoccupied with his dark thoughts as he was, Edwin didn’t immediately notice that he had trailed behind his companions. The Undercellar was a pretty labyrinthine place; with corridors branching off in all directions and considering all the people milling about it wasn’t so strange that he marched straight ahead when his companions made a right turn. When he noticed, he had already lost sight of them. “Typical,” Edwin muttered to himself as he started searching. “You would think they would have the common sense not to get themselves lost, but apparently they are more muddle-headed than I guessed. I suppose it once again falls upon the manly shoulders of Edwin Odesseiron to search them out and rescue them, seeing that I am the only one not disoriented to the point of confusion. (Well, when I say ‘them’ I actually mean her. The others can stay lost. In fact, it would be nice if they did, at least for a while, so that the two of us might…)” 

Edwin’s train of thought was suddenly interrupted by a very familiar voice, coming from inside one of the secluded booths. It was muttering a spell, a spell that would soon make things very uncomfortable for Edwin. _Danak!_

Acting without thinking, Edwin threw himself flat on the ground, feeling the air crackle inches above his head as the lightning bolt just missed him. It bounced off a nearby wall instead, and disappeared up towards the ceiling, fortunately without harming anybody. Legs trembling, Edwin got to his feet, throwing up a few Mirror Images as quickly as he could. And it wasn’t one second too soon either. A swarm of glowing magical orbs shot out of the booth, evaporating two of the images. Edwin winced. He’d never quite got used to seeing himself wiped out. 

But he didn’t have the time to muse on this. The fight was joined, and it would be to the death, that much he knew. Edwin started speaking the words to his next spell even before he tore the drapery in front of the booth aside, and then he hurled a few Magic Missiles of his own inside. Danak was alone, though the ruffled state of the bed indicated that he had had company until very recently. He was wearing an open dressing gown rather than his mage robes, and the many tattoos decorating his bald head almost seemed to be glowing with magical energy. If he had been displaying anger or hatred, he wouldn’t have been nearly as frightening. As it was, there was only calm determination in his eyes. 

Edwin gasped with pain as a bolt of flame struck his thigh, almost making him fall. Fortunately, he had just managed to get off a spell of his own, and he could see Danak’s movements growing clumsier and less fluent as probability was twisted and his luck decreased. _Now to follow up…but how best to do so? He is strong…very strong. And he has fought more battles than I have._

It occurred to Edwin that he was in a very dangerous spot indeed. He had prepared himself for fighting with a group when he chose the spells to memorize last night, not for a magical duel. And though he believed he exceeded the other wizard in terms of power, he couldn’t match his experience. Already Danak was recovering, starting on another spell, one that Edwin recognized to his horror. _Horrid Wilting! I cannot counter that one._

And then, flashing through his mind, he suddenly recalled something his teacher had once told him, something about killing wizards. _A mage is only as dangerous as the spells he can cast_ , Dekaras had said. _Keep him from casting and he is no longer a threat. Any thug off the street could beat him then, unless he has other means of defense at his disposal. And that is why I want you to acquire at least some rudimentary weapons training._

Very thankful for that precaution, Edwin pressed a certain spot on his staff, then swung it even as the sharp blade was still sliding out of the tip. It missed Danak’s heart, but it did give him a nasty slash across one hand, something that made him shriek and lose concentration so that the spell was lost. Not pausing to gloat, Edwin quickly followed up with a vertigo inducing spell that made Danak tumble to the floor in a heap, unable to stand on his legs since the room suddenly felt like it was spinning rapidly around him. 

“Kill me then, renegade,” Danak said, his voice still mostly calm. “It will do you no good. You have disobeyed the Zulkir, and he will not let the matter slide. You will be hunted down.”

“I will do as I must,” Edwin snarled. “I never intended to defy the Zulkir – but I will not let you harm Zaerini.” 

Danak chuckled dryly, and failed to get up off the floor. “The girl? You haven’t heard the latest orders then. No, you wouldn’t have. They came through only yesterday. The Zulkir has changed his mind about her. There are other, more dangerous threats closer to home. And she has shown no inclination for conquest. She will be left alone. But you on the other hand, are a renegade, and you will pay for it. And if she seeks to aid you, then so will she. Even if you kill me, others will come.”

“Maybe,” Edwin spat out. “But right now, the only one here is you.” He stabbed the blade down, and then followed up with a small Fireball for good measure, concentrated on the corpse. Then he staggered outside, feeling quite dazed. 

_This…is a disaster. What will I do? What can I do?_ He didn’t doubt Danak’s words for one instant, knowing perfectly well what the Red Wizards did with renegades. They would come hunting for him. Again, and again, and again. In ever greater numbers. And anybody attempting to aid him would be made a target as well. _I…I cannot allow her to do that! I mustn’t!_

He was lost. Exiled. Unable ever to go home again, unable to ask for help even from those closest to him. One, he had driven away himself. And the other… _I have sworn to aid her against Sarevok, and I will. But then…then I must take steps. I cannot allow her to remain close to me, not with that kind of threat hanging over me. But I cannot explain either. That would mean telling her everything, including being assigned to spy on her and…and worse. She would hate me. But I must keep her safe. I must leave then. It is the only way. Just…just leave and hope that she forgets all about me. It is the only way if I want to keep her safe from harm. It will hurt her though. It will hurt her, and I will make her hate me. Her too. It…it isn’t fair! Having to do this once was terrible, but a second time will be unbearable. Why? Why do I have to hurt them both in order to protect them? WHY?_

Edwin felt ready to scream by now, to wail with utter despair. He stumbled along the corridors of the Undercellar, unaware of in which direction he was going. Then, he startled violently as he felt himself collide with somebody. Looking into a pair of golden eyes his heart groaned painfully, even as his libido had entirely different ideas about the situation. 

“Whoa!” Zaerini said, her lips quirking upwards with amusement as she raked her fingers through her flame-red hair. “Didn’t see you there, Eddie. Where did you disappear to? We were really worried.” Then her face turned worried. “Edwin? What’s the matter?” 

_Don’t tell her, don’t tell her, don’t tell her…_

“It…it is nothing,” Edwin managed, though his voice sounded stiff and unnatural. “I…got into a small disagreement, that is all.”

The half-elf’s eyes flicked downwards to the dark spot on his thigh, where his robe was still smoking a little. “Gods! Are…are you badly hurt? Hold on, just a second…” She threw herself to her knees, pressing the palm of her hand against his leg, something that made Edwin’s legs tremble even worse than before. Come to think of it, she didn’t seem entirely unaffected either. As he looked down on her red head, bent over the wound, it seemed that she was shaking a little. Then he felt heat flowing through her palm with a tingling sensation, and he could feel the wound closing up. Zaerini got to her feet, sighing with relief, looking rather flushed. “There you go,” she said. “All fixed up. Feeling better?”

“Yes,” Edwin said. _But if she’d hold me a little longer I would feel better still._ Then he suddenly noticed the scene in the background, and blinked with surprise. There were two dead people lying on the ground, one man and one woman. Both of them were wearing dark clothes, reminding Edwin uncomfortably of his mentor. 

“Slythe and Kristin,” Zaerini explained. “They attacked us. And there is good news, and bad news. Which would you like first?”

Edwin thought about this for a second. “The bad news. (I have already had so many, a few more won’t make much of a difference.)”

“All right. There was a letter from Sarevok among Slythe’s stuff. Slythe and Kristin were supposed to join up with a bunch of doppelganger assassins at Sarevok’s coronation. Once my Big Brother finished his big speech, they were supposed to strike. And the bad news is that the coronation is tonight.” 

“And the good news?”

“The good news is that there was an invitation to the Ducal Palace along with the letter. Which means that we’ll be able to get inside and confront Sarevok.” 

“I see,” Edwin said. “So, and let me get this perfectly straight, the good news is really that we get the wonderful opportunity of fighting a large number of doppelgangers, as well as your insane brother in the spiky getup? (Perhaps the food will be nice at least, though my hopes aren’t high.)”

“Um…that’s more or less it, yes.” Zaerini suddenly grinned, something that made Edwin’s heart make a little lurch. “Don’t you just love this job?”

The Ducal Palace was certainly magnificent, Zaerini thought. Its high towers and spires, its imposing walls, they all helped create a formidable impression. Banners flapped from the tallest towers, and guards patrolled the walls. There were also quite a few guards watching the doors, such as the one standing right in front of her at the moment. “Look,” she said, waving the invitation in the man’s face, “it’s perfectly clear. My name is Krystin. And this is my husband Slythe.” She pointed at Edwin. “As it is stated in these official invitations. Now let us in.” 

“I don’t know about this,” the guard said. He was a slow, solid man, as flexible as a rock. “That may be so – but what about these others? Doesn’t say anything about them.” 

“They are our servants of course,” Edwin said, giving the guard a haughty look. “People in our position go nowhere without our retainers, as well you should know. (As for him, I wouldn’t employ him to take out my garbage.)”

“I…don’t know…” 

Rini sniffed loudly. “Really, my darling,” she said, placing a hand delicately on Edwin’s arm, “must I suffer being insulted by this lout? This…commoner? He dares imply that I…that I walk about unattended!”

Edwin nodded. “Indeed, it is a grave insult, my sweet,” he agreed. “He is not worthy even of worshipping the ground your shadow falls on. Fortunately, I have ways of dealing with such impudence. (Yes. Ways, and ways and ways.)” He gave the guard an unpleasant smile. “You may have heard stories about the depraved and cruel ways of the aristocracy. Well, let me assure you that they are all true – and I am as blue-blooded as they come. (Of far nobler and more ancient descent than any of these westerner so-called nobles.)”

The guard paled a little, but he wasn’t about to give in just yet. “I still don’t think…”

“Is there a problem here?” The new voice was distinct and clear, with an underlying note of easy arrogance that carried generations of old money with it. 

The guard straightened up at once. “Lady Skie! My condolences about your father, my lady!” 

Skie nodded. She had put her dark hair up in a complex arrangement, and was wearing a dress of deepest black, with a matching veil that partially covered her face. Clearly, she was still deep in mourning. “I know these people well,” she said. “You may let them in.” 

The guard nodded. “Of course, my lady. Anything for the daughter of Duke Entar.” 

Once the adventurers and Skie had walked far enough across the courtyard that they could no longer be heard, she turned towards them. “Sarevok will be presented to the nobles shortly, in the long hall to the right once you go up the stairs. I wish you luck.” 

“You should try to stay away,” Jaheira warned. “It will be dangerous.” 

The noblewoman nodded. “I have no intention of risking my life, but I shall be watching from the Gallery above the hall. That way, I will be able to witness everything that happens.”

“Thank you,” Zaerini said. “For everything.” 

Skie smiled. “And you. I already owe you much, and if you destroy the plans of my father’s murderer, I shall owe you even more. As I said, I wish you luck.” She waved and walked away, black skirts swishing about her feet. 

“So,” Rini said. “This is it.” 

_Are you ready, kitten?_ Softpaws asked, twining herself around the half-elf’s ankles. 

_As ready as I’ll ever be, I think. Sarevok is in there, you know. I…I can sense it._

“Everybody ready?” the bard said, turning to her friends. 

Jaheira nodded. “The balance will be served, and Gorion’s slayer kept from bringing further chaos to the Sword Coast.” 

Khalid took his wife’s arm tenderly. “And w-we will be where G-Gorion would have wished us to b-be. At your side.” 

“That be right,” Yeslick agreed, loosening his hammer a little. “I owe ye my life, lass. I would have rotted still in that cell in the Cloakwood if not for ye. If I fall protectin’ ye, that be a small price to pay for freedom.” 

Imoen hugged her friend tightly, tears shining in her eyes. “You know…in the stories the good guys always win and live happily ever after. But…I guess this is more than just a story, right? So…just in case one of us doesn’t make it…you’ve always been the best friend I could wish for.”

Rini smiled and hugged her friend back. “You too, Immy. I’ve always thought of you as a sister, you know. Let’s hope we all do get a happy ending.” She turned to look at Edwin. The wizard’s face was dark and inscrutable, and he was gripping his staff so tightly that his knuckles had gone white. 

“I…could say many things,” the wizard said. “Eloquent, grandiose things. (Who better than I to wax poetic over the twin fires of her eyes or the even brighter fire of her spirit?) But this is not the time. Until such a time arrives, know that I will do everything within my power to ensure your safety.” His eyes seemed almost black as they met hers, and they were filled with strong determination. “Remember that. Whatever it takes, no matter the cost.” 

“I’ll remember that, Eddie,” the half-elf said, smiling. “And later on, I’ll take you up on the offer of a grandiose speech, I think. If…if you still want to, then. But first, let us go meet my brother.” 

Afterwards, Rini could never remember much about the inside of the Ducal Palace. There were only vague impressions of long corridors, pretty tapestries on the walls, and people in fine clothes whispering along the walls. But her brother’s presence was like a beacon in her mind, drawing her on. She could sense him close by, even before she heard his voice, rolling like thunder towards her from a nearby hall. There were other voices as well, but there was only one that mattered. She pressed on through the crowd, careful to stay out of her brother’s sight as he towered far above all others present. The two surviving Grand Dukes were there, one man and one woman. They seemed to be hard pressed by the assembled nobles, who kept crying out for war against Amn, claiming that both Entar’s murder and the recent iron crisis had been caused by Amnian agents, possibly in league with the Zhentarim. 

Finally, it seemed that Belt, the male Grand Duke, had had enough the doubting and insulting comments. He formally introduced Sarevok, presenting him as the newest Grand Duke, having been nearly unanimously elected. _Good gods, he’s actually wearing that spiky armor of his!_ Rini thought. _And they still elected him Grand Duke? Guess he spooked them all into selecting him._

“I am honored to be here before such a respected assemblage of noblemen,” Sarevok said. “I accept my new position with full awareness to my new responsibilities, and I will have many of them.” There was the faintest hint of a sneer to his voice, but Rini was fairly certain that she was the only one who noticed. “I would first like to address many of the questions that had been asked earlier. The rumors about Amn's mobilization for war are entirely true, as is the involvement of their Zhentarim cohorts. But do not worry, we are not bereft of a defense. Although the recent Zhentish attempt at depriving us of the most valuable war resource, iron, has weakened us, it has not crippled us. When my father was most recently murdered, I inherited his control over the western branch of the Iron Throne. They have a great deal of stockpiled iron, enough for all of our needs. I will give this to the city to do with as you will. Unfortunately, our greatest military commander lies on his death bed, a grievous blow to this city. To ensure that the Flaming Fist is well led, I will be assuming control of the mercenary regiment, with permission from its current steward, Angelo.”

At this point Belt cried out in protest over such a breach of protocol, only to be shouted down by several of the nobles. The Grand Duke subsided into an uneasy silence, nervously watching Sarevok. 

“Instead of waiting for the war to come to us, we will take it to them,” Sarevok went on, his deep voice triumphant. “With the Flaming Fist we should be able to easily take the town of Nashkel, and then quickly fortify the mountain pass through the Cloud Peaks.” Then he suddenly fell silent. Zaerini was pushing out of the crowd, having finally reached the point where she was too impatient to stay silent any longer. 

“Why, if it isn’t ‘Koveras’!” the half-elf said, a sweet smile on her face. “Fancy meeting you here.” 

For a second or two Sarevok actually looked acutely embarrassed at having had what he considered his clever disguise seen through. He soon rallied, however. “Intruder!” he called out. “How dare you show yourself here?”

Rini shrugged. “Sorry, but I’m a bit busy. We’ll have to talk later.” She turned to the two Grand Dukes, using her most sincere and dramatic voice. “I would not elect Sarevok as Grand Duke if I were you. Sure, he’s great at fighting and at intimidating people, and I guess those are the sort of qualities you’re looking for. But the downside is that he plans to kill both of you and rule alone, not to mention that he’s the reason why you’re almost at war with Amn.” She produced a few letters and documents, including a certain leather-bound book, with a grand flourish. “Just read this, and you’ll soon see what I mean.” 

Sarevok’s eyes were glowing like bright fires from within the dark confines of his helmet, and Rini got the uncomfortable sensation that he was suddenly twice as tall as before. “Lies and trickery!” he stated. “You cannot trust these criminals.” 

Liia, the female Grand Duke, gave him a hard look. “We will determine such for ourselves,” she said. “Or are you our lord and master now? Perhaps these allegations are in fact true.” 

“What difference does it make?” Sarevok snarled. “Seeing that you will never leave this room to tell anybody of it.” He raised one large mailed fist and brought it down with a sharp gesture. Immediately, nobles all around shed their disguises and were revealed as large doppelgangers, hissing threateningly as they raised their claws. 

“Everybody, protect the Grand Dukes!” Jaheira shouted. “If they fall, there will nobody to verify the truth!” 

The battle proved a fierce one, as the doppelgangers hasted themselves to move with frightening speed. As the adventurers took them on with sword and spell, Zaerini fought her way across the floor, towards her brother. Strangely enough, Sarevok hadn’t joined in. He simply stood there, watching. Seeing his sister approaching, he turned his head, looking strangely pleased. “Little sister,” he said. “We meet again. I never did get the chance to compliment you on Reiltar’s murder. Very inventive, that was.” 

“I’m so glad you approve,” the half-elf said. “I don’t plan to make a habit of tearing people to pieces, so enjoy it while you can.” 

“Why would you not?” Sarevok said. “Killing is what we do. It is what we are. It is our Father’s work. You should embrace it as I have.” 

“No thanks, brother. I don’t want to be a slave to a dead god.” Rini hesitated for a second. “Come to think of it, I don’t think you really want that either. Not deep down.”

Two pairs of golden eyes met each other, locked in silent combat. “You cannot win,” Zaerini said. “Bhaal will never let you. He lies and cheats, don’t you know that yet? He will never let you ascend. He’ll use you, and then he’ll break you, and discard you once you’re dead. Is that really what you want?” She prepared herself for the ploy she had in mind, hoping that it would be able to get through to him. However, she didn’t get that far.

Sarevok drew his large two-handed sword with a slow and measured motion. “It is natural that you should speak thus,” he said. “You have strength, but it is no match for mine. I will prevail, and I will triumph with the aid of our sire. He has guided my steps for many a year, and never led me wrong.” His smile was terrifying. “So, you see, little sister, I do not fear death. Do you?” 

With that, he charged, and it might have gone very badly for Zaerini but for the fact of the large swarm of hobgoblins that suddenly sprung up between her and Sarevok, courtesy of Edwin’s wand. The giant warrior bellowed with rage and started cutting his way towards her, blood spurting as the hobgoblins fell like grass being mowed. _So much for the peaceful approach_ , Rini thought, feeling sick to her stomach. 

Yet, apart from the raging man moving towards her, the battle was going well. Her friends were all still up and standing, as were the Grand Dukes, and as she turned her head, she could see the final few doppelgangers falling. “Sarevok!” Belt called out. “You will face justice.” 

“For your crimes against the city you will die,” Liia added. “There will be no escape for you this time. I have signaled the guards; they will be here any moment.” 

“Fools!” Sarevok shouted, his face twisted with unholy fury. “Do you think I would let gnats like you stand in my way? I spit on you and your justice. I will strike you down, all of you! I will trample anybody who gets in my way beneath my feet, and I will laugh as I scatter their bones. I will not be denied, do you hear me? I WILL NOT BE DENIED!”

And then the look of wrath on Sarevok’s face was transformed into one of utter surprise, as silver tendrils of magic enveloped him, transporting him safely away to…elsewhere. 

As she looked wildly about, Rini caught sight of the wizard standing almost hidden by the door, where he must have entered during the battle. He was a gaunt man dressed completely in black, and as he completed a second teleport spell, she met his eyes and found no anger or malice in them. Only weariness. Then the spell was finished, and he was gone. So was Sarevok. 

By the entrance to the Undercity, Sarevok turned on his mentor, his face twisted into a mask of inhuman fury. “You!” he screamed. “You would betray me like this? Tearing me away from my glorious battle, from what is destined to be? From the final moment of trumph?”

“I was trying to save your life, you fool!” Winski said, paying no outward attention to the fact that Sarevok had grasped him by the collar and was pushing him into the wall. “If you are too insane to think of your own safety, then I will. The guards would have been upon you in a moment. Don’t you see? The plan is lost!”

Sarevok’s breathing was heavy and hot in the wizard’s face, like that of some large beast. “You lie. Always you lie. She was so close…my sister was within my grasp, and the time of our clashing was upon us, the time when our souls would join as her blood flowed, the time for which even the gods hold their breaths in anticipation. And you…you took me away from her! You are a traitor; I see it now. You have been working against me from the start…planning…plotting in the shadows. My Father spoke true! It…it is all your fault! Traitor! ” 

The wizard’s eyes were hollow and empty, as if he were already staring into the wastelands of death. They met the confused and furious eyes of the warrior without blinking. “Yes…” Winski said in a low voice. “Yes, I see it now…it is I who have been the fool. This…all of it…this is all my fault. Do as you will then. It matters not.” 

As the sword stabbed forward, the wizard slid gently to the ground, his hands clutching the spreading dark wetness on his abdomen. The pain was great, but he had a feeling it would take him a while to die yet. _And that is no more than I deserve_ , he thought. _In my own way, I did betray him in leading him down this path._ Already the heavy footsteps were receding away from him, but he managed to gather his strength enough to speak. “Sarevok…” he whispered. “Son…forgive me.” 

The footsteps stopped for a moment. Then they continued on their way, deep into the darkest bowels of Baldur’s Gate. 

_Shortly thereafter…_

“Ooooh…” Imoen moaned, green in the face, and then started puking all over the floor of the Baldur’s Gate Thieves’ Guild. 

“Weakling,” Edwin said, with an attempt at a haughty sneer. “It…it was a perfectly ordinary teleport spell. Nothing…nothing at all to make such a commotion about.” He was looking pretty pale himself though, and he kept swallowing heavily. 

Zaerini bit her lip hard, hoping that the pain would distract her from the nausea. Once Sarevok had disappeared, the Grand Dukes had requested that she and her friends go after him. Since that was what she had intended anyway, she had accepted. When the Grand Dukes had offered to use magic to divine Sarevok’s whereabouts and then teleport the party to a point close to him, it had seemed like an excellent idea. That was, until the spell itself had taken effect, and she had learnt what being teleported felt like. It felt as if her stomach had arrived at a perpendicular to the rest of her body, and possibly inside out. In retrospect, she would rather have walked. 

Around them, several thieves stared with surprise and suspicion at the group of armed people that had suddenly materialized in their midst. They all seemed to be armed as well. 

“Excuse me?” Yeslick politely asked. “Have you seen any strange people go by here lately?” 

“Maybe,” one of the thieves, an attractive dark-skinned woman said. “Would one of them be this really large man with glowing eyes and a very exotic-looking armor?”

“Yes.” 

“Then yes. He charged through here like a raging bull, dragging a wizard with him. Almost cut me down. Down the stairs around that corner but watch out for the traps.” 

“Th-thank you!” Khalid said. “S-sorry about the t-trouble.”

“What are you apologizing for?” Jaheira asked as she stalked towards the stairs. “It is not our fault.”

“S-sorry, J-Jaheira…”

“Now you are doing it again…” 

Black Lily gave Imoen a sharp look as the pink-haired thief passed by her. “Here, I know you! You were here before. Where did your cute friend get to? I wanted to discuss that picture with him…check out the goods in real life, so to speak.” 

“Um…” Imoen said, blushing. “He had stuff to do, you know. Haven’t seen him in a while.” 

“Shame. Well, if you do see him, pass the word on, would you?”

“Just how many people did you show That Picture to anyway?” Edwin hissed as the adventurers walked down a steep wooden staircase. “Have you no shame? (He should have dealt with her much more harshly for such an outrage. I…I just hope he still may.)” 

Imoen sighed loudly. “Give it a rest, why don’t ya?” she said. “I already had this talk with Adahn, and no, he wasn’t pleased. But I don’t see how it’s any of your business.” 

The Red Wizard subsided into gloomy silence at that, though he kept occasionally glaring at Imoen. Rini was getting seriously concerned about him. He had seemed positively morose the past few days, and since the Undercellar he had got worse. But despite her careful prodding, he wouldn’t even admit that anything was wrong, so she was unable to do anything whatsoever about it. It could be worry about the impending battle with Sarevok of course – but somehow, she got the feeling there was more to it than that. _Well_ , she thought. _Always assuming we all survive this day, I should have plenty of time to worm it out of him. Sooner or later he’ll talk. I’ll just have to try again._

It turned out that the stairs led not just to a basement, but to an annoyingly complicated maze, littered with traps, and inhabited with nasty slimes and oozes, not to mention a troupe of exceedingly deadly skeleton warriors. Navigating the maze was both time-consuming and annoying, since the adventurers frequently had to double back when they ran into a dead-end, and they had to move slowly to allow Imoen time to spot the traps. _Mazes_ , Rini thought to herself. _How I hate them. Couldn’t Sarevok have found himself a somewhat more accessible Evil Headquarters? Well, I guess that’s kind of the point…I suppose he doesn’t usually come this way. I wonder if he gets sick when teleporting too? Maybe you get used to it after a while. It would be really gross to puke inside that armor…_

_Kitten_ , Softpaws said as she silently padded along the wall of the maze, _don’t you have more important things to worry about?_

_Well, sure. But that’s just it. I’m trying not to think about those important things right now, because if I do I may just get too scared to keep on going._

It was at precisely this moment that Imoen, who had been scouting ahead, came hurrying back around the corner, looking pale and frantic. “You’ve all gotta come quickly!” she said. “There’s…up ahead…there’s…”

“What?” Jaheira asked sharply. “More skeletons? Slimes?”

“No…no. It’s a person. I think it’s that wizard we saw before, you know, the one who teleported Sarevok away.” 

“Damn!” Edwin cursed. “I could sense the power of that one, he is very dangerous. (Not perhaps as dangerous as I, but a formidable opponent all the same.)” 

“No, you don’t understand! He’s wounded, I could see the blood. Lots of blood. I think he’s dying.” 

As Zaerini turned the corner, she could see that her friend was right. The huddled human form on the floor lay in a slowly widening pool of blood, next to an open door. Judging by the amount of blood, which already covered the entire space of the narrow corridor, he had been there for some time already. He was so still that for a moment she thought he might be dead already, but then she heard a faint groan. Hurrying forward, the half-elf went to her knees next to the dying man, oblivious to the blood staining her clothes, as well as her hands when she turned him over. The fact that the wizard was dressed all in black made it a bit more difficult to tell where the blood was coming from, but the gaping wound in his stomach was large enough that it only took her a few seconds to notice anyway. _How can he still be alive?_ the bard wondered, feeling like throwing up for the second time in a short while. 

_Belly wounds are slow_ , her familiar told her. _It will take him a while to die yet._

_He may be an enemy, but I can’t leave him like that. I…just can’t._

“Jaheira?” Zaerini asked. “Yeslick? Can you…is there anything you can do?” 

The druid and the dwarven priest were already examining the wounded man, muttering quietly amongst themselves. “I am sorry, child,” Jaheira finally said, shaking her head. “That wound is mortal. It is beyond our skill to heal. We could stop the bleeding for a short while, but it would only prolong his suffering.” 

“And I am certain…none of us would…particularly wish for that,” the wounded man suddenly said in a weak voice, opening his eyes. “At least…I hope so. Sadism is…so very unpleasant. Never…got into it myself.” Rini startled, having thought him unconscious. Now she bent closer over him, trying to catch his words. He was middle-aged, with dark hair and a gaunt and tired face, and deeply sunken eyes. They seemed somehow…empty. As if he had seen things that he wished he could forget but was unable to. For a moment, that sarcastic voice reminded her of Adahn, and briefly she wondered where the rogue had disappeared to. Then she shook her head, trying to concentrate on the present. “I knew you would follow, you know,” the man said, sounding oddly pleased with himself. “You and he…you are of the same blood. You…will not take no for an answer…will you? Hmmm…suppose I should have…drawn the logical conclusions…from that. Sarevok was never…patient. Less so, now.” 

“You seem to know him well,” Rini said. “Who are you? And who are you to Sarevok?” 

The man barked a short humorless laughter, and then coughed up some blood. It was a few moments before he was able to speak again. “Formal introductions…at a time like this? Very well. Winski Perorate at your service…at least for a few more minutes. I am…I was Sarevok’s mentor. I tutored him in the blackest of rituals.” He frowned. “Or at least…that is what he called it. I called it ‘geometry’…but never mind. I helped him form his plans. That…dark enough for you? To make a mark on the world…to bring the next Lord of Murder to his rightful throne…that was my goal. To…help him achieve his destiny. You must know his plan by now. You have practically followed his every move. Likely you are driven by the same desires as well, though you have channeled them in a different fashion. No, war with Amn was not his true goal; Sarevok is no profiteer. The slaughter was all he wanted, with enough lives lost in the initial battles to ignite the fire in his own divine blood. He thought death on the appropriate scale would cause him to ascend. Perhaps he would have, but who can really say? If you have the arrogance of a god and can kill like a god, who's to say you are not a god?” 

“You did not suspect he would turn on you?” Jaheira asked. 

“Perhaps…but what did it matter?” For a moment a spark of passion glimmered in the dieing wizard’s eyes. “Sarevok…was special. Ever since he was very young…there was a bond between us. His…his ‘father’ surely did not deserve such a…magnificent son. I…I always thought of him as my own, you see. I would have done anything for him.” 

Behind her, Rini heard a strange sound, like a strangled sob. Turning around, she felt her heart clench painfully. Edwin was leaning against the wall, as white as a sheet, and he was staring at the mortally wounded wizard with tears in his eyes, unable to hide how terribly upset he was. He was staring directly at Winski, but for some reason Rini got the impression that he wasn’t really seeing the wizard at all, but some horrible vision that was visible to him and him alone. “Edwin!” she called out; her distress evident in her voice. “What’s wrong?”

“N-nothing!” the wizard protested, shaking his head violently. “Nothing at all…don’t question me! Not now! Just…just go on.” 

“He turned on me, yes,” Winski went on, not paying any attention to the distress of the Red Wizard. “He…struck me down. Upset that I…brought him away from the battle. Miscalculated the spell a little too…tried to bring us straight in…past the annoying maze. Strange…I should have expected it…him turning on me…but it still came as a surprise. If you want him…you will find him through that door. There is an altar…in the Undercity. It was where the final ritual…would have taken place. Now he will…make his last stand there. If you do not go there…he will hunt you down.” He sighed, and some more blood seeped from his mouth. When he spoke again, his voice was even weaker than before. “I…hope he will forgive me one day. If he lives. I…was his guardian. I should have known…that the plan was doomed from the start. This…is no more than I deserve.” He blinked. “Well, what are you waiting for?” he snapped. “I…have nothing more to tell you. Either leave me to die slowly…or grant me the mercy of a swift blade. Your choice…but do not expect me to beg.” 

Zaerini nodded, her jaw set in a determined line. “Yes,” she said. “Of course, I will grant you a mercy stroke. I would not dream of denying you that.” She got to her feet, reaching for her sword. However, before she could draw it, she felt a hand on her arm, restraining her. 

“No,” Edwin said. He still looked as if he had just seen a ghost, but he was once again collected. Frighteningly so. “No. I will do it. It…is my duty. I cannot explain further. (It…is not quite the same of course. I know that. But…but it is close enough. It might as well be…how can I know it is not happening right now, elsewhere? The gods so enjoy things like that.)” 

“All right,” the half-elf said, not knowing exactly what was going on, but sensing that the matter was very important to the wizard. _And once all of this is over, I will make you tell me what is going on, Edwin Odesseiron. I do love you; you know. And I think it’s time we brought that into the open, just as soon as we’re all safe and sound. I’m not about to stand about and watch you torture yourself for much longer._ “You do it then, if that is what you wish.” 

Edwin nodded, and walked over to stand above the prone wizard. Slowly, he slid the sharp blade out of the end of his staff, placing above Winski’s throat. “I will do this, as swiftly and skillfully as I may,” he said, his voice sounding very serious. “I will grant you the clean death you desire.”

Winski nodded. “I thank you. I…” Then he gave Edwin a sharp and penetrating look, and suddenly seemed to think of something extremely amusing. “Oh…I see. Yes. How…remarkable. And such an odd…symmetry...that it should be you. He told me…but I didn’t see it before. Yes. Yes, I am certain you will do well.” 

Edwin looked puzzled for a few seconds, and seemed to want to ask something, but Winski simply shook his head, an odd smile on his face. Finally, the Red Wizard raised his staff, an eerily calm and distant look on his face. He brought it down, the strike swift and true, and Winski died silently, still smiling at something only he could see. 

Edwin stood motionless for a few moments, staring at the corpse at his feet. Then he turned his head around, his dark eyes looking frighteningly lost and filled with despair. They reminded Zaerini of a small child who has suddenly found himself separated from his parents and is unable to find them. “I…had to do it,” he said in a low voice. “It was the only way. I did not really wish to hurt him…but I had to. Didn’t I?” 

Rini had no idea why he should be so upset, sad as Winski’s fate had been, but it hurt her to the core to see him in such pain, and she felt an urgent need to do something, anything about it. Taking the wizard by the hand, she swiftly dragged him along with her into a secluded corner, signaling for her other friends to stay apart. Then, she held him as closely as possible, trying to give comfort as best she could, whispering soft nothings into his ears. Whatever she could do to help, she would. _And as for Sarevok…he will simply have to wait._


	70. Endgame

**In The Cards 70 – Endgame**

_Despite your best intentions, there is only so much you can do to make another person change. In the end, we all have to make our own decisions, for good or for ill._

_Excerpt from ‘Ruminations Of A Master Bard’_

Beneath the city of Baldur’s Gate, there was another city. Dark and desolate it was, its houses empty ruins, its streets crumbling. No longer did the sun reach this place, not since the new city was built on top of it. The only weather here was the endless darkness and the cold dampness that bit into your very bones. No human voices called out from the houses; no human feet tread the streets. The occasional bat fluttered by, as did the rats. They were uncommonly large beasts, and not the least bit timid. And then there were the other residents, the dead ones. 

“Not more undead!” Imoen complained. “How many can there be?” A group of about a dozen zombies and ghouls came shuffling towards the adventurers from around a street corner, moaning and groaning. 

“Too many,” Edwin said, neatly incinerating the group of undead with a blast from his fire wand. “They are useful for taking care of the household garbage though. Mother always swore by them. (Well, except that one time when the tame ghoul got loose and ate the head cook. Then she swore _at_ it. Literally took it apart too. Very educational it was.)” 

“That’s…a very…practical approach,” Zaerini said, hoping she managed to keep her voice politely interested. The thought of eventually meeting Edwin’s mother suddenly filled her with nameless dread. _Come on. She can’t be more terrible than Bhaal. Can she?_

“Oh yes,” Edwin agreed. “She always did value practicality…” The wizard’s mood had improved again, at least a little. He still hadn’t told her what was worrying him, but at least he no longer seemed to be about to break down. 

Just as she was about to ask Edwin to elaborate a little further on the subject of his family, Rini heard voices coming from a short distance away. 

“Members of the sunlit realms?” a melodious male voice said, rising to the heights of an upcoming frantic giggle at the end of the sentence. “No, cousin, you are wrong, I swear! The sun burns, nasty glowing eye that it is! It watches…it always watches. But we are safe down here, safe as the lint in a lich’s navel, aren’t we Abduh?”

“Urrrgh”, a second voice agreed. This one sounded much like something long since dead bubbling up from the bottom of a swamp, letting out terrible clouds of gas. It was probably male, but it was a bit difficult to tell.

“Look, ye daft tall ones!” a third voice interjected, sounding very grumpy. “It’s very simple. We with Sarevok. Big mean boss. You with Sarevok. Big mean boss. We no fight, or he mad. That simple enough for you, meathead?” 

“Look,” said a fourth male voice, this one low and menacing. “I fear it is you who do not understand. We are Iron Throne mercenaries. The high ups have put a price on Sarevok’s head, for the way he is squandering the resources of the organization. And if you are in his employ…then that goes for you as well. And I am certainly not a cousin to any of you.” 

“Oh look!” the first voice suddenly called out. “Over there! It’s Zaerini and her little friends! Hello to you all! Have you come to play? It is so nice to play down here…here is where we all dance and float, float like the pixies before you yank off their wings! The bones whisper secrets to me you know…they know why you are here!”

“Urrrgh?”

“No, Abduh. It’s not to play fetch. Zaerini has other games to play…so she does.” 

After a moment’s stunned silence the strange voice sounded again. “Zaerini?! There’s a hefty bonus for her. Take her, lads! Dead, not alive!” 

_I’ll kill Xzar for this_ , Rini thought as she threw herself to the ground and rolled away to avoid the explosion caused by the arrow that struck the ground next to her. _And Abduh too. Again, and again, and again._

Frantically getting to her feet again, she spotted a trio of familiar figures a little way off, now clearly visible in the flashes of light caused by spells being cast. Abduh was gurgling happily as he slowly strangled an enemy mage. Montaron was engaged in a fight with a man three times his size and was making a vicious attack on his kneecaps. Xzar stood tall, hands outstretched as tendrils of white mist sped from his fingertips, and one of the enemy archers faltered and screamed, tearing at his eyes with bloody fingertips as he tried to get away from something only he could see. _All right. If they keep this up, I suppose they can live._

Thankfully, her own friends seemed to be mostly unhurt, though Edwin was being kept quite busy trying to bat out some persistent flames from his robe. Jaheira and Yeslick charged the remaining archer, sprinting through the falling fire, trying to outrun it before it could overcome them. Imoen kept firing arrows at all enemies she could reach, while Khalid remained behind to protect the spellcasters. The bard hurriedly muttered an incantation, and the world changed around her. Suddenly, the enemies seemed to move as slowly as if through treacle, and she was firing arrows at them along with Imoen. Swiftly, so very swiftly, and the poison on the arrows was already taking its toll. With the advantage of speed, the adventurers were able to get the upper hand, though not without sustaining a few wounds. The mercenaries were tough and experienced, and merciless fighters. Eventually though, they fell. 

_More death_ , Rini thought. _Everywhere I go. They attacked me, and I don’t feel sorry for them…but all the same…I wish people would just leave me alone. Just for a few days or so. Then I won’t complain no matter how many assassins, monsters or insane would-be gods come calling on me._

_You might get your wish, kitten_ , Softpaws remarked, leaping onto the half-elf’s shoulder. _But right now you need to deal with a crazy wizard, a trigger-happy halfling, and a zombie who’s just started digging about inside his own nose._

_I know, it’s disgusting. He did that even before he died, actually._

Rini had certainly never shared Imoen’s fondness for romance novels. Still, she had read the occasional one. And then there were the adventure stories that she adored, that also frequently featured at least one pair of lovers who got into all sorts of trouble. One of them might get captured by pirates and the other one by slavers, they’d get thrown in prison, tricked into marrying somebody else, savaged by lions, robbed, deceived, and occasionally even killed. And yet, somehow, despite everything, they’d always manage to find each other in the end, rekindle their love and live happily ever after. Of course, she knew perfectly well that things didn’t usually work out like that in real life, but it was still nice to read about. 

_Now, I’m sure I’m not in love with Montaron_ , the half-elf thought. _And definitely not with Xzar. And as for Abduh…that’s just too gross to even contemplate. So why…why is it that I seem to run into those three lunatics wherever I go? I’m starting to wonder which god it is that has it in for me. Well, apart from the obvious answer of course._

“What,” Jaheira said, gritting her teeth, “are you three doing here? And what do you want? We are extremely busy; we have no time to waste on you.” 

“We followed you,” Xzar giggled. “We were at the Guild when you came through, and then we followed you all the way…the bones from those skeletons will be very useful for spell components.” He winked at Zaerini. “Or perhaps we could carve you a little flute from them? Ah, the piping! The shrill, terrible piping, played by Bladhprrtfruuruu, the Goat of Eternity, it is enough to make even the wicked souls of the bunnies scream with terror! Half goat…half gym teacher…half NAMELESS HORROR!”

“Er…no thanks,” Rini said. “I think I’ll pass.” _What’s a gym teacher?_ Then she couldn’t help herself. “Er…which half is the goat?”

Xzar’s eyes glittered like broken mirrors, and he lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “The better half…always the better half.” He suddenly seemed to think of something. “Are any of you ladies good at taking care of zombies? I’m looking for a partner in marriage, you see. It is really very simple. Just give him plenty of people to kill and give him regular baths.”

“Urrrrgh!” Abduh protested. 

Rini wrinkled her nose at a whiff of pungent air from the zombie. “Exactly how regular are we talking?”

“Oh, every ten years or so, I fancy. Don’t want to wear down what remains of his skin. So, what do you think?”

“She is not interested,” Edwin said, and gave Xzar a dark look, his fingers hovering menacingly above his pouches of spell components. “She deserves far better than a gibbering insane wizard with a zombie fetish. (And if this imbecile insists on pestering her, I will take great pleasure in extracting his deranged cerebrum through his nose by the aid of a hook. Then perhaps a small case report on whether or not it improves his mental capacity…)”

“Ahem!” Rini said, giving the Red Wizard a rather annoyed look as she put her hands on her hips. “I can actually speak for myself; you know. No need to go get all puffed up like that.” _As for wizards, I think I’ll settle for a talkative, mildly eccentric and incredibly cute one_. “Sorry Xzar, but no. We’re just too…different. And I haven’t planned on getting a zombie just yet.” 

“I’m on the rebound!” Imoen hastily said as the Zhentarim wizard looked at her. “I’d only break your heart.” 

Jaheira just scowled, and even Xzar wasn’t mad enough to press the issue further. 

“S-so, why have you been f-following us?” Khalid asked the two Zhentarim, bravely attempting to switch to a less flammable subject. 

Montaron shrugged and spat on the ground. “Nothing strange about it. Ye seek Sarevok, and so do we. Seems we might be of use to one another. He’s a dangerous one.” 

Zaerini hesitated. In a way, it was good news. She could certainly use some more help. On the other hand, it was bad news. She didn’t doubt that Xzar and Montaron wanted Sarevok dead, and she still hadn’t entirely given up hope that she might be able to avoid that. She did have a plan of a sort, albeit a risky one. _If I leave them behind, they’ll follow anyway_ , the bard thought. _And if I lie to them, they’ll still soon learn the truth. I might as well be honest_. “It could work,” she said in a careful voice. “But you should know that while I plan to keep Sarevok from realizing his plans, I want to avoid killing him, if possible.” 

Xzar and Montaron looked at each other, while Abduh cheerfully played ‘Stomp The Rat’ a short distance away. “You _don’t_ want to kill him?” Xzar said, an incredulous look in his eyes. He actually sounded concerned. “Poor girl, you have obviously been under too much stress. You are, beyond a doubt, utterly insane.”

“We have little hope of taking out Sarevok on our own though,” Montaron grudgingly admitted. “I say we go for it. It’s better than nothing. He may still get killed, and at least his plans will be ruined.” 

“If you say so, Monty. He is certainly dangerous. Those glowing eyes made me suspect him from the start…I wouldn’t put it past him to be working with the rabbits.” 

“It’s a deal then,” Rini said, shaking the hands of the necromancer and the halfling. As for Abduh, she settled for giving him a brief wave. She was afraid she might find herself holding a disembodied hand otherwise. “But remember, I make the decisions as long as you work with us. And if you try to betray us, you’ll make me very angry. Tell me, have you seen Sarevok angry?”

The two Zhentarim shuddered. Clearly, they had. 

“Well, he’s my Big Brother, you know. And I’m sure you’ve heard about that old saying that calls ‘the female deadlier than the male’. Just play straight with us, and we’ll get along just fine. Otherwise…” The half elf’s golden eyes narrowed to ominous slits, and her voice lowered to a dark purr. “Otherwise…we will not.” 

“Certainly!” Xzar blurted out. “Hear that, Abduh? We’ll be friends, all of us! And we’ll be Great Heroes!”

“Urrrgh!” Abduh said, holding up a squashed rat with a proud look on his rotting face. “Urrrgh, urrrgh, urrrgh!” 

_I can’t help wondering_ , Zaerini thought, _if perhaps one day, many years in the future, they’ll tell the story of this battle, and it will have turned into a story about how the heroic Abduh fought a noble battle against the evil Sarevok_. She considered that for a few moments. _No. That’s just too weird. Nobody’d ever buy it. After all, he is Abduh._

After a short rest, the now enlarged party went on, following the winding streets towards an imposing building in the distance. It was vast. It was dark and gloomy, made from black and craggy rocks, and covered with nasty gargoyles. There were skulls and bones all over the walls, particularly above the enormous front door, one of the skulls being extra-large and with a pair of large red gems for eyes. The door was spiky. Very, very spiky. 

“I think,” Edwin said to nobody in particular, “it would be a safe estimate to assume that this is Sarevok’s cozy little home away from home. (Very tacky. And in his enthusiasm about those spikes he probably forgot to install proper plumbing.)” 

“Yes…” Rini said, staring at the ugly edifice. _My Big Brother’s Secret Headquarters. How cute._ “Though I guess it was probably Bhaal or his worshippers who had it built. Guess ‘Daddy’ didn’t have better taste than Sarevok does.” 

As she approached, she suddenly heard a female voice addressing her from close by. “You have come, even unto this place. It is fitting that we should meet again.” The speaker was armed and ready for battle, and the sword she carried looked sharp and deadly. Though her face was as smooth and unperturbed as ever, her black and slanted eyes were grim. 

Zaerini watched her, feeling apprehension twist her stomach like a grasping hand. 

_Tamoko._

Tamoko raised her sword in salute, her eyes never leaving Zaerini’s. “Hello again, Zaerini,”. She said, her voice outwardly calm. “I fear this time I have not come to speak and must take up arms against you. You have...you have done what you must, I suppose. Sarevok knows of my treachery, you know.” Her words fell like drops of blood into a still pond, seemingly peaceful, but tainted with hidden pain. “He has forsaken me, left me to die in your path. I must fight to regain his trust, his...attention. And so I stand before you, knowing that if I defeat you he will continue his plans elsewhere and I shall lose him, and if you defeat me, you shall go on to kill him. He will not yield to either of us. I have...I have no choice.”

“It doesn’t have to be like this, Tamoko,” Rini said, desperately hoping that she would be able to convince the other woman. “I haven’t given up on Sarevok yet. Let me pass, I will attempt to make him turn back.” _Queen of Swords. So, he has turned on you, as the Reading showed. But you are not my enemy. Not really._

For a second, the Kara-Turan looked hesitant, but then she shook her head, her face already set with determination. “No. It is too late. He slew Winski, you know. Slew him, when he was attempting to protect his life. The man who always was a father to him, in all but blood. That was dishonorably done.” Behind her, Rini could hear Edwin draw in breath sharply, but she didn’t dare turn around. “I confronted him about that,” Tamoko went on. “About that and…many other things. I told him…that if this was what he wanted to become, then I had lost the Sarevok I once knew.” A muscle in her cheek twitched slightly. “For a moment I thought I might reach him. But he is too far gone, and he would not listen. He called me…traitor. In his eyes, I am. Perhaps he is right. This…this is all that remains to me. It might have been better if he had slain me, as he did Winski. At least I would have died on his blade, cleanly. Not this…dissolving of the heart.” Her eyes resembled black pools, fathomless and filled with despair. “Now please…do as I ask.” 

The warrior woman stepped forward, gliding across the grimy stones of the lost city like a ghost, her every moment purposeful, controlled. Faced with that mastery, Zaerini felt as clumsy and unskilled as a kitten attempting to wrestle a tiger. She had got much better with her sword, certainly, but she was by no means a blade master, and she knew it perfectly well. Close to panic, the thought of using magic occurred to her, but the other woman was too close already, she would have no time. Her friends would step in, certainly. But…she didn’t like the thought of backing off. Gritting her teeth, she raised her own blade, suddenly aware of the heat that flared in her blood, the rush of the urge for destruction and death that always lurked within, just out of sight. _I will not back off._

And then, mere seconds later, Tamoko was upon her. Rini did her best to defend herself, but she was hard pressed to do so, and only Khalid yanking her out of the way kept her alive. Then, Jaheira and Yeslick retaliated, attacking the Kara-Turan from both sides, with Edwin joining in to slow her movements and impede her. Eventually, Tamoko was pushed back against the wall of the temple, and Zaerini stood before her once again, sword raised. “Stop this now!” the half-elf hissed. “I told you I don’t want this.” 

Tamoko simply smiled, and then the Kara-Turan woman was grasping the bard’s sword by the blade, seemingly heedless of the edge cutting into her hands, and then jerked it around until it rested above a chink in her armor. “Just so,” Tamoko said, and pulled. “Just…so.” 

Tamoko was on the ground, her life’s blood seeping out of her by the moment, a confused and rather miserable half-elf kneeling by her side. The warrior-woman’s dark eyes were finally peaceful though. “I…thank you,” she whispered. “If not Sarevok would give me a clean death, then you were the best choice.”

“But…what you did…why?”

“You do not walk the path of the warrior…but I wished to die in battle. I merely…aided you a little once I knew that I would not defeat you. It was my prerogative.” Tamoko smiled a little. “You…are as stubborn as he is. My Sarevok. You will do well.” She reached her hand up, and gently touched the cheek of the redhead bending over her, wiping some tears away. “You…have his eyes.” Then she exhaled one final time, and she spoke no more. 

Zaerini sat silently for a few moments, looking at the dead woman next to her. Then she rose, and in her pale face her eyes truly did burn as brightly as Sarevok’s, but with determination rather than with fury. “We will see to her later,” she said, her voice toneless. “Now come. Let us go meet my brother.”

The adventurers went on, pausing only so that Xzar could leave Abduh outside. The mad wizard claimed that the zombie would get too easily excited and eager, something that might cause all sorts of trouble. The interior of the old Bhaal temple was much the same as the exterior, as far as design was concerned. It was huge, gloomy and ‘decorated’ with skulls, spikes and grinning grotesques statues that lined the walls like sentries. On the far side of the vast expanse of floor Zaerini could make out a familiar figure standing on a dais. The spiky armor with the horned helmet, the tall and powerful body and the proud bearing all were instantly recognizable. Sarevok. Yet there was something odd about the picture presented, and finally Rini realized what it was. Since she first saw him, Sarevok had been a giant in her mind, a powerful and threatening presence. Yet here, in the temple of their common sire, he seemed somehow dwarfed by the monstrous architecture, looking surprisingly small and alone. 

_I wonder what he would say if I told him that. Probably he’d try to kill me._

Fortunately, it didn’t seem as if Sarevok had noticed them yet, concealed as they were in the shadows near the door. He was pacing impatiently up and down the dais, staring at the ground. He looked much like a caged lion, restless and angry, and likely to maul whoever approached him. 

_This is it. The end of the road. The final hand to be played. And let’s just hope that the cards I hold are strong enough…_

The half-elf patted her pockets, making certain that she had the items she would need. One for hopeful success. The other for failure. She hoped she would only need to use one. 

As silently as they could, the adventurers crept along the walls, and the tension was enough to make even Xzar be quiet. Imoen was in the lead, checking for traps, and she carefully guided them around the giant Bhaal insignia on the floor, warning them away from traps too intricate and deadly for her present skill. Still, she did spot and deal with several others, and if she had doubted it before, Rini was now completely certain that her brother was expecting them. After all, the traps couldn’t very well have remained undisturbed down here with Sarevok’s big feet stomping all over the place, so they had to have been set recently. 

They couldn’t remain undetected forever of course, and it was a very good thing that they had prepared before entering the temple, using as many protective and strengthening spells, scrolls and potions as they had. Saving them for later would do no good if saving them meant that there would be no ‘later’. 

Sarevok suddenly raised his head, looking almost to be sniffing the air, and as he turned around Zaerini could feel those burning eyes staring straight at her. “Little sister…” that familiar voice said, in something in-between a deep growl and an intimate whisper. “I thought you would turn up.”

“Big brother,” the half-elf replied. “I wouldn’t have stayed away for a million gold pieces.” Her entire body was tingling with tension, and she had never felt quite as alive as she did in that moment, on the brink of death. The flames were singing in her blood again, but this time they were singing her own tune. 

Sarevok nodded, and she thought she detected a hint of respect on his face within the helmet. “You are indeed family. No other could have lived to oppose me in person. Of course, it will not matter in the end. Ultimately, I will prevail, and a new era will be born unto the Realms.”

_Please don’t let any of the others interrupt now_ , Zaerini thought. Her friends had promised to let her speak with Sarevok first and do nothing to interfere unless she was outright attacked. She hoped they would remember that promise, particularly Edwin. “A new era…” she said, sauntering across the floor in what she hoped looked like a relaxed manner. Actually, she was frightened to the point of wanting to throw up. _So much depends on this…but stage fright is not an option._ “But what kind of era will it be, brother? And more importantly…what will there be for you in that era?”

Sarevok frowned. “What do you mean? You are of the blood…you have felt the dreams, I know you have. The power of our common Father shall be mine, and I shall rule, unopposed and all-powerful, from the Throne of Murder.”

“Will you?” The bard crossed her arms across her chest, her eyes never leaving Sarevok’s, trying to stare straight into his soul. “I have had the dreams, my brother. And do you know what the one thing they’ve taught me is? Our sire lies. He lies, cheats and deceives. He will promise you whatever it is you want the most, as long as you do his bidding. He will threaten you with whatever you fear the most if you deny him. But in denying him, at least you remain free!” She raised her voice, and it grew more passionate, carrying to the farthest reaches of the temple. “He lies, I tell you! He will use you and abuse you for his own ends, and once he’s used you up, he’ll spit you out like a sucked-dry orange.”

“Orange?” Sarevok sounded slightly stunned.

“Don’t you interrupt me! It’s my turn to rant, you can have a go once I’m very well done! Don’t you see? Why would Bhaal be so very interested in helping you gain power? How does that help him? Don’t you think it’s much more likely that he wants to return himself, and that he means to use us both as tools for his own ends.”

Slowly, almost hesitantly, Sarevok spoke again. “You…sound like Tamoko…I sent her away. She…betrayed me…”

_Oh gods. Please don’t let him ask me where she is. Please don’t let him…_

“Did you meet her?” Sarevok asked, giving Rini the uncanny impression of having read her mind. “You did, did you not? You met my Tamoko. Tell me, sister…where is she now?”

_You can’t lie, kitten_ , Softpaws warned from the shadows along the wall. _He will know._

_I won’t. I can’t. He…deserves to know._ “She attacked me,” the bard said, trying to keep her voice steady. “I didn’t want to fight her…but she gave me no choice. She…made me slay her.”

Silence. Heavy, almost solid silence. Then, Sarevok jumped off the dais, his mailed feet hitting the stone floor with a loud boom. He strode towards his sister, and it was all Zaerini could do not to turn and run. “Listen to me!” she called out. “She made me do it. After you turned her away…she felt shamed. She had lost you. She didn’t want to live. I never wanted it…but in the end she thanked me.” 

Sarevok’s steps slowed, and he stopped in the middle of the floor. 

“You know what I think, brother?” Zaerini asked. “I think that Tamoko loved you very much. She wanted _you_ …not Bhaal in your body. She wanted a life with you – not an eternity with the Lord of Murder. She wanted happiness. So do I. And I think, once, so did you.” She reached into her pocket, her fingers trembling as she felt the object inside. 

The snow globe glittered as the half-elf held it aloft, snow falling gently over the peaceful house and the two children playing outside it. “You forgot this at home,” Rini said. “I thought you might want it back. Once, this was what you wanted, wasn’t it? And you can still have it. If only you turn back!” She held the snow globe in the palm of her hand, reaching it out towards her brother. 

Slowly, painfully slowly, Sarevok approached, a strange and almost empty look in his golden eyes, his face rigid. Behind her, the half-elf could hear her friends’ rapid breathing. She didn’t blame them for being terrified. She could feel cold sweat running down her back, and she saw her hand trembling. And now her brother was before her, so very close. 

_He’s…he’s so BIG! I didn’t realize how huge he is before._

This up close, Sarevok towered over her like one of the temple’s stone statues, but by far more menacing than any one of them, and he made her feel very diminutive and vulnerable. _What does he need to become a god for? He’s already as frightening as one._ Golden eyes, so very like her own stared at her without blinking, their expression unreadable. Then, Sarevok reached out his hand, his mailed fingers brushing her own for a second, sending further shivers down her back, and he took the snow globe. 

Sarevok turned the snow globe over in his enormous hand, looking at the swirling snow and the two tiny figures, boy and girl, trapped inside. The world seemed to be encapsulated within those walls of glass, as silent and changeless as the scene inside. Rini had to remind herself to breathe. _Please listen to me!_ She thought it to her brother, over and over again, willing him to listen. _Please!_

Sarevok raised his head again, and his eyes met hers. Emotions swirled behind them, as swiftly and chaotically as the falling snow. Confusion. Pain. Pride. Loss. Anger. Longing. Determination. Loneliness. Love? 

And then, just as she thought she saw the beginnings of cracks forming in the armor around her brother’s soul, she heard the voice on the edge of her consciousness, that hated voice. Not speaking to her this time, oh no. She couldn’t make out the words, just a torrent of rage and hate pouring towards her, and she knew that she was catching the vaguest hints of the storm sweeping her brother’s mind. Sarevok’s face hardened, his eyes suddenly burning like the sun, devoid of all human emotion. Slowly, firmly, his gauntleted fingers closed, shards of glass tinkling to the floor. The tiny figures of the children lay on the floor, rejected. 

_No! Brother…NO!_

“I have no need or desire for such trinkets,” Sarevok said, his voice vibrating through her very bones. “I have left them far behind, and my Father will grant me far more precious treasures than such childish foolishness.” He was laughing now, drawing his sword. “Little sister, do you not realize the truth? I am stronger than you, stronger by far. I fear nothing, nor do I need to. By my sword and the strength of my will I shall have what I desire, and I shall be crowned and anointed with blood in order to take the Throne. The power was promised me, and should our Father decide to renege on his promises, then I will take it! And once your death grants me your essence, I shall be stronger still. So come to me, little sister! Come to me, to your brother!” The sword was out by now, flashing with deadly light. “Face me! Face the new LORD OF MURDER! Angelo! Tazok! Reveal yourselves and let's finish this now!”

_So it is to be the other way then. Oh Sarevok…it didn’t have to be this way._ Zaerini reached into her pocket even as she dodged her brother’s sword, the other pocket, where she kept the other item. The scroll was in her hands now, one of the ones Edwin had acquired from some mysterious source. When he had presented them to her, she had immediately seen their potential. Make Sarevok vulnerable to magic, something he was used to being impervious to, and he would be significantly weakened. 

Out of the corner of her eye, she was aware of the people who had suddenly appeared on the dais behind Sarevok, no longer protected by spells of invisibility. The ogre Tazok, looking as large and vicious as she remembered him from the bandit camp. Angelo, sneering. A youngish looking mage, somebody she didn’t recall seeing before. She didn’t doubt that they were all very dangerous, but just now Sarevok was enough to occupy her. From a distance she could hear Edwin’s voice, chanting words of power, and the first spell launched towards Sarevok. Xzar wasn’t far behind, having received the remaining scroll. Tendrils of white light flared up around the charging warrior for a moment, then winked out, and his steps slowed slightly, giving Rini time to finish her own spell. 

Now Sarevok was coming after her once again, apparently having decided to take her out fast. She was dodging, dodging and feinting, and so far, she had been quick enough to avoid him. The thought of besting him in a pure swordfight was laughable of course. She would have to use other means to win. Fortunately, she wasn’t alone. Imoen’s arrows didn’t do much harm, but at least they helped distract Sarevok a little. 

Meanwhile, Edwin and Xzar were casting their most powerful spells towards Sarevok’s allies, who were still bunched up close together on the dais. Fireballs, poison gas and cold spells, all helped keep Angelo and the young mage busy. 

Tazok was roaring with fury, engaging Yeslick in a fight, and the dwarf was doing his best to break the ogre’s kneecaps. He was already bleeding though, having caught a nasty gash in his thigh. 

Khalid and Jaheira were by her side now, their blades clashing against Sarevok’s with deadly skill. Still, the son of Bhaal fought with more than mortal strength and fury, and the two half-elves were hard pressed. And Sarevok kept pressing on, relentless in his berserker rage. 

_Now, kitten!_ Softpaws called out. _You have an opening._

Seeing that the cat was correct, Zaerini cast a spell, and hissing red balls of magical energy struck her brother, rapidly followed by a bar of hot red fire. Sarevok bared his teeth, with pain or anger. She didn’t know which. She wondered if he was surprised, if he felt fear now that he knew his usual defenses were down. Then she dodged again, taking a superficial slash across her brow that made hot blow trickle into her eyes. _Crowned and anointed by blood as you said…thank you, brother._

It was more difficult to see now, but she kept moving, dancing with the rhythm. The flames were dancing too, dancing and singing in her blood, and she danced with them, ignoring the hissing whisper of her sire’s voice. 

Angelo and the mage had fallen by now, and now Edwin and Xzar joined their voices with hers, the language of magic forming an ominous choir. Magic lashed out against Sarevok, again and again, from all directions. And though he was still fighting, he was slowing down, clearly wounded. 

Montaron was at Yeslick’s side, the two small warriors relentlessly attacking the huge Tazok, with Montaron making a particularly vicious head butt against the ogre’s groin, that made Tazok howl with pain and fold up like a drying leaf. 

_Sarevok! Give up! Just…give up!_ She tried to send the message directly into her wounded brother’s mind, knowing as she did it that it was futile. Even had she been able to speak the words out loud, he would never listen. _He isn’t one to give up. No more than I am, Tamoko was right about that._

Finally, the end came. The magic was coursing through her, singing like the fire in her blood, and it burst out of her palm in a wordless scream, tearing into Sarevok. His eyes wide with surprise and pain, the large warrior fell, and the ground shook beneath him. For a moment he seemed to look at her. Then, it was all over. Slowly at first, then quicker, the mortal remains of Sarevok dissolved into tiny motes of glittering dust, which shone like tiny stars. They gathered into a dancing cloud, and they were rapidly swept away into the darkness, leaving nothing but a dropped sword and an empty suit of armor behind. 

Zaerini knelt on the floor, tears streaking her face as she reached out and touched all that remained of her fallen brother. Then there was a hand on her shoulder, and Edwin was close behind her, whispering into her ear, his fingers gently touching her hair. 

“Hellkitten…come away from there,” the wizard said, sounding deeply concerned. “It is over. You won.” 

“Yes…” Zaerini said, her eyes still cast downward. “Yes, so I did. But at the same time…I also lost.”


	71. Who I Love Is You

**In The Cards Epilogue – Who I Love Is You**

_To love, to truly love, means that sooner or later you will know the pain of parting. And yet if you have truly loved it will be worth it all._

_Excerpt from ‘Ruminations Of A Master Bard’_

It was a beautiful evening. The air was clear and high, the sun had been bright all day and was just setting below the horizon. The bright blue sky was gradually turning a fiery red, and the rooftops of Baldur’s Gate stood out in stark black against it. The city was stirring, buzzing with rumors, half-truths and outright fantasies. Sarevok Anchev had been made Grand Duke, then slain the two others. No, he had been slain himself, by the noble Grand Dukes protecting the city, as well as by the loyal among the Flaming Fist. No, it was somebody else who had slain him, and in reality, he was a demon straight from the abyss. It was his brother who had defeated him, a giant warrior with flaming eyes and a voice like thunder. No, that was Sarevok himself. It was his sister who had done the deed, and then refused to accept the reward offered to her by the Grand Dukes, just like a noble hero out of legend. And she had companions, did she not, this mystery woman? Heroes like herself. The Heroes of Baldur’s Gate.

Edwin grimaced to himself as he stared at his pack, hoping that he hadn’t forgotten anything. ‘Hero’ was certainly not a title that sat comfortably on his shoulders, yet he seemed doomed to wind up dragging it along wherever he went. But that was a very minor concern at the moment. He knew the truth of course, the truth of what had happened, but he wasn’t about to share it with any of the fawning fools who wanted to gain some measure of fame by rubbing up against the woman he…cared about. 

Zaerini was downstairs at this very moment, in the common room of the Elfsong Tavern, about to give a small performance. It was true that she had refused any grand celebration of Sarevok’s death to be held in her name, as well as to accept any money for it. _He was my brother_ , she had told the Grand Dukes Belt and Liia, her eyes burning as hotly as those of the dead warrior. _I killed him because I had to, not for your sake, and not for the money. I want no part of it._

What she was doing now had nothing to do with celebrating her brother’s death, she had explained to her friends. But it was, in a way, a way of celebrating being alive herself, and having them all with her still. She had told them that she felt a need for closure, of singing to clear her head and soothe her soul. _It is like finishing the last chapter of a book_ , she had told them. _Tonight, we pause and reflect, tomorrow we move on. There are…things I have been putting off doing for too long. It’s way past time I took hold of them._

She had smiled at Edwin as she said that last part, a slightly shy smile that made the wizard’s throat constrict painfully. There were things he had been putting off as well, and not pleasant ones. 

Sighing, Edwin tightened the strings on his pack, tying a neat knot on them. It was done. He had everything he needed for the journey ahead. Everything I need. _Not…everything I want. But I have to do it. She will remain safe from the Red Wizards. She will hate me, but it is the price I have to pay for knowing that she remains free. It is all for the best._

He had written her a letter, agonizing over it for hours, every word, every turn of phrase. Its very briefness had made it even more difficult. He could not tell her the truth, but he had to tell her something. He had to keep her from following him, but he could not bear to hurt her more than was absolutely necessary. He had no idea if he had succeeded, but he could do no more. Finally, he had signed it, for once getting absolutely no satisfaction out of his elaborate and carefully practiced signature with its elegant and grandiose swirls and loops. Then he had slid the letter under the door to Zaerini’s room, where she would be certain to find it. He wondered if she would tear it up when she read it. Probably so.

Nothing remained. What belongings he was not wearing were in his pack, except for one. Edwin picked up his staff from its place by the door, and reluctantly cast a spell of invisibility, disappearing from sight. He would not take the risk of any of his companions spotting him leaving. _But I will see her one final time. I will grant myself that much, at least._

His heart heavy, the wizard walked downstairs from his room, hearing the laughter and snatches of conversation from the common room drift towards him. And then he heard her voice, achingly familiar, and he pushed closer, unable to simply walk on. 

Zaerini was standing on the small stage at one end of the room, her tousled locks shining like bright fire, and her golden eyes glowing with a light of their own. She was wearing a simple peasant blouse, dyed a vivid red, and a pair of snug black pants. A wide belt encircled her waist, accentuating the slim build that came from the elven part of her heritage. _Beautiful_ , Edwin thought, almost unable to breathe. _So beautiful. But she would have been that even in rags._

The bard was smiling at her audience, and she petted the black cat sitting on her shoulder, exchanging a meaningful look with her familiar. Then she nodded at her friends, all of whom were sitting close by the stage. Jaheira looked solemn, Khalid proud. Yeslick was sniffling into his ale, but Imoen was smiling dreamily, twining a lock of pink hair around her finger. For a few seconds Edwin almost thought that the half-elf was looking directly at him. It was a nice thing to pretend. They would be saving a seat for him, he knew. They were expecting him to show up shortly. When he did not, they would eventually come looking for him. 

“I had been planning to save this song for the end of the evening,” Zaerini said, still smiling. “And once the occasion arises, I still mean to sing it at a…private performance. Sometimes songs say more than common words, you know. But I think I’d like to sing it once for you all, so that it will be just perfect for when I really need it.” She closed her eyes in concentration for a moment, then raised the harp she was holding and started playing. Notes like falling drops of purest water swept the audience, then the tune picked up in strength and intensity as the half-elf raised her voice in song. 

It wasn’t that complicated a melody, but it pierced the wizard’s heart like a sword, making him freeze into immobility, every word lashing him like a whip. 

_Once I thought myself so strong,  
Always right and never wrong  
Now I feel my legs go weak,  
Every time I hear you speak_

_Felt lost and confused, about what to do  
But meeting your eyes, is when I know  
Who I want is you_

Now there was another voice joining in, sweet and ethereal, humming wordlessly from all around, and the audience all breathed in as one when they heard the ghost who had given the Elfsong its name. Zaerini smiled again, and Edwin stared at her, unable to look away. 

_Once I thought I’d stay alone,  
Running through the danger zone  
Now I know within my heart,  
We will never be apart_

_Felt lost and confused, about what to do  
But meeting your eyes, is when I know  
Who I want is you_

Edwin’s vision was blurred with tears by now, and he was clutching his staff in a death grip. He should leave, he knew that. He should leave at once. This would only make it worse. But he couldn’t. He had to hear it all. 

_Once I thought love would pass by,  
Leaving me behind to cry  
Now I feel complete and whole,  
I am yours, in heart and soul_

_Felt lost and confused, about what to do_  
But meeting your eyes, is when I know  
Who I love is you 

_Who I love…is you_

The bard made a courtly bow, then straightened herself proudly. For a few moments all was silent, and then she was beaming as the audience applauded wildly, shouting praise and cheering. 

Once again, Edwin thought that the woman on the stage almost seemed to be looking directly at him, her brilliant eyes burning into his own like fires. He knew it was impossible of course, that she had no idea he was there, watching. But still…it was pleasant to pretend it, comforting. He hoped the memory would help him during the long and lonely days that seemed to stretch out eternally ahead of him. _I will remember her like this. Laughing…happy. Free. And I will remember that I have to give her up for her to remain like this, and not to be brought down along with me. Even if she will never know the truth._

He was at the door now, then through it. Night had fallen, the stars shone like thousands of bright diamonds against a sky like black velvet, and there was a definite chill in the air. Shivering, Edwin pulled his robe closer, then turned around one final time. Through the window, he could see into the common room, where all was light and warmth, cheer and companionship. Only he remained without, watching, alone. He could still see Zaerini up on the stage, laughing, tossing her head to throw her red hair back from her face. 

_And so, this is the end of everything_ , Edwin thought. _Goodbye then…my Hellkitten._

Invisible to all he turned and walked down the street, with the song of the Daughter of Bhaal still ringing in his ears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thus ends the In the Cards, the first part of my Bhaalspawn Trilogy. Zaerini, as well as her friends and foes, will return in the second part, Cards Reshuffled. May you enjoy it!


End file.
